The wound is the place where the Light enters you.
― Rumi

Welcome to the first installment of Wounded Light, the follow-up for the Unbroken series. This is a one-shot, serving as a prelude to the events of the main series, and is a missing scene from the episode "Fire on the Mountain." Please note that due to ffnet's restrictions on content, I won't be posting all installments of the series here, though they will all be available under my Grayseeker handle at Ao3. Sorry about that! I'd love to have them all up in both places (the series will make a lot more sense if you read the whole thing!), but such is life.

Deepest thanks to Skywinder (Starfire) and Dark Star of Chaos for their excellent beta services. Any remaining typos are mine, and mine alone. ;-) Thanks, too, to everyone who has gotten in touch with me over the past few months to ask when this was coming out. I've struggled tremendously in getting this series started, and because that's taken up so much of my energy, I've been out of touch with people and have fallen well behind on correspondence. Apologies for that; I will try to do better. In any case, without further ado... please enjoy. :-)

Fallen Fire

"So much for the Autobot intruder!" Starscream sneered, glaring at the fallen form lying sprawled below him on the steps of the Inca pyramid. "And as for you, traitor," he snarled as he spun toward Thundercracker and raised his rifle, which was still hot from its recent discharge, "you will do exactly as this 'geeky' Decepticon tells you, or I'll report your treachery to Megatron and he'll have you melted into welding rods!"

He kept his voice loud, not just for Thundercracker's benefit, but also to drown out the pounding in his spark. There should have been some sound of movement from behind him by now. He had turned his back quite deliberately and was waiting for the scrape of metal against stone, followed by the sound of a transformation and of powerful thrusters being engaged, or—just as possibly—the sound of a rifle powering up.

If it proved to be the latter, he was prepared to duck just as Thundercracker had, moments earlier, and with any luck, Skyfire's shot would hit Thundercracker. That would be an amusingly ironic reversal of what had just taken place, and it would also serve Thundercracker right for his cowardice and treachery. With Thundercracker down, Starscream could plausibly flee the scene. Megatron would be livid, of course, since it would mean the loss of his precious 'crystal of power,' but even he couldn't reasonably expect Starscream to fight Skyfire all by himself. It was far more likely, though, that Skyfire would simply choose to leave. Leaving was, after all, one of his specialties.

But there was nothing. No sound from behind, no signs of movement, and as the astroseconds continued to crawl past with Thundercracker now staring at him as if he expected something, Starscream was starting to panic. Get up, you slagging fool! he thought fiercely. Fly away, before I'm forced to shoot you again!

Why hadn't Skyfire flown away when Starscream had given him the chance? He'd started in on Thundercracker for a reason, dammit. True, he'd come upon Thundercracker conspiring to allow Skyfire to destroy Megatron's new weapons-frame so that Starscream would get blamed for it, so he'd certainly had ample cause to quarrel with his Trinemate, but surely even Skyfire had to realize that the presence of a large Autobot would normally trump such disagreements. Yet somehow, Skyfire hadn't picked up on the fact that Starscream had given him his cue to leave. Or—and something twisted in Starscream's belly at the thought of this—maybe he hadn't wanted to. Maybe he'd wanted to… talk.

As if this was the time or place for it.

As if there was anything left to say.

But why wasn't he moving? Starscream turned, finally, to stare at the fallen figure. The other time when Starscream had shot him, Skyfire had still been struggling to rise when Starscream had stepped over his body and stalked away across the ice. Now he was lying terribly still, sprawled half on his side, his long limbs splayed at haphazard angles. His mouth was open, and his optics stared blankly with a look of frozen bewilderment.

Et tu, Starscream? they seemed to ask.

But Skyfire hadn't seen, had he? He couldn't have. There hadn't been time. Starscream had fired on Thundercracker, who had ducked, leaving Skyfire, who had been right behind him, utterly exposed. Time had slowed as Starscream watched the blast he'd meant for his Trinemate rip into Skyfire instead. Incredibly, it had struck him in almost exactly the same place where Starscream had shot him the last time. Perhaps there was some irony in that, some grotesque twist of cosmic humor, but Starscream was in no state of mind to consider the odds, nor the implications.

Skyfire's optics had widened fractionally as the blast had struck him in the chest and sent him stumbling backward, arms flailing. He'd tottered on the edge of the pyramid's summit, then fallen from view. Starscream had felt the pyramid quake with the force of the impact. He'd leaped after him to perch on the terrace overlooking the one on which Skyfire had fallen, and now—

Why wasn't he moving?

The wound didn't look severe from this distance, but then again he'd hit him twice in the same spot, and Skyfire's armor was civilian-grade, at least while he was in his mech form. The bulky shielding that protected him during interstellar flight was deployed from his subspace only when he transformed into his shuttle mode, but in this form, he was no more heavily armored than any other Cybertronian had been prior to the war, and his chestplate would have been weakened in that particular spot, because…

Because…

It was an accident, dammit!

Not that he cared. He had no reason to, since Skyfire had made it perfectly clear that he didn't. He'd branded himself Starscream's enemy without a thought, as if everything they'd shared, everything they'd once been to each other meant nothing—or less, at least, than the lives of a handful of Autobots and a race of short-lived, fleshy bipeds. How could he have turned away so easily, and for such inconsequential reasons, when Starscream had fought so long and hard to find him?

He'd never stopped searching. Even though he'd eventually been forced to leave this world after Skyfire had been lost to him here, Starscream had exhausted every resource he had—time, money, and what meager social connections he'd possessed—in a desperate bid to mount a rescue expedition. He'd soon discovered that on a world running as low on energy as Cybertron had been at that time, the life of a single mech, and a flightframe, at that, was considered expendable. On joining the Decepticons, Starscream had made a point of tracking down every individual who'd thwarted his attempts and had taken enormous pleasure in making them fully aware of his feelings on the matter.

One hundred and eight thousand vorns would pass before he found himself in a position to resume his search, but when he found himself stranded here, on this very same planet, and with his Trine and the resources of the Decepticon army at his disposal, he'd jumped at the opportunity. It hadn't been easy. He'd had to conduct his search quietly, keeping his efforts hidden from the other Decepticons, especially Megatron. At one point, he'd even staged an impromptu coup attempt to keep the Decepticons on Earth long enough for him to complete his search. In the end, though, he'd succeeded—and that was supposed to have been the hard part.

From there, it should have been a simple matter of deposing Megatron, destroying the Autobots, and then returning to rule Cybertron in a new Golden Age with his mate and consort by his side. Unfortunately, said mate and consort seemed to have had other ideas. Starscream had gotten his first inkling of that when they were finally alone together, and Skyfire's first question had been whether Starscream was happier now, as a warrior, than he had been as a scientist. Of all things to ask.

Starscream had answered him truthfully: he was. He'd been happier at that moment than he could remember ever having been, because Skyfire was right there with him, close enough to touch even though they couldn't, just yet. While Megatron lived, they would have to pretend to be nothing more than former colleagues, but time made all things possible. He'd waited one hundred and eight thousand vorns for this, and he could wait a little longer to make Skyfire truly his again.

But he had told him one thing. A small thing, perhaps, but it was the core of the vision that had kept him strong through all those years alone. He'd told Skyfire that one day he, not Megatron, would lead the Decepticons, and Skyfire would be at his side, flanking and supporting him as his second. Skyfire had said exactly… nothing.

He'd given Starscream a blank look, as if he'd been speaking in a foreign dialect, then offered some blathering nonsense about being grateful for having been liberated from the ice. Which was hardly a response. Skyfire hadn't seemed to grasp, at all, what Starscream had been trying to share with him: a vision of the two of them together and free, co-ruling a Cybertron on which flightframes would be honored members of society and no one would ever again have to endure what they had.

If only Skyfire had listened, and understood. If only he'd trusted him, and followed his orders instead of betraying him. If only he'd stayed away from here, instead of trying to single-handedly destroy Megatron's new super-weapon. If only he'd left when he had the chance or had at least stayed out of the line of fire. If only he'd move!

Skyfire…

The sun was beating down, blurring everything into heat-shimmers. The pyramid, the ground, the chasm, the snow-peaked mountains… everything was dissolving into the sky, and his legs felt as if they weren't quite there anymore. He swayed, then suddenly lurched forward and would have tumbled over the edge if a strong hand hadn't grasped his arm and roughly hauled him back.

Starscream reeled, staggering against his unknown savior, then stiffened as something hard was jabbed against the side of his helm. He glanced toward it, and the black supernovae exploding across his vision cleared momentarily, just enough for him to realize that he was staring up the barrel of one of Thundercracker's rifles. Thundercracker smirked.

"I could make like you shot each other," he drawled. "Who'd doubt me? Or better yet, I could say I caught the two of you conspiring against Megatron, and had to shoot you both. I figure that would net me a promotion; what d'you think, Screamer?"

Starscream just stared at him dully. Dead, he thought, the word bubbling up from some blackened recess of his mind. Skyfire wasn't moving because he was dead. That was why he hadn't gotten up and flown away.

"If… if you were going to shoot me," Starscream slurred, "you would have done it by now." His voice sounded as if it wasn't working quite properly, and his chest hurt. Was this what it felt like when a bond was broken? Would he die? It occurred to him that he didn't much care. A dull roaring sound filled his audials, like echoes of that long-ago storm, and in the midst of it was a voice, his voice, rising in a desperate, pleading howl.

Sky…! Oh, Sky…

"Shootin' people in the back is more your style," Thundercracker replied. With a nod toward the fallen figure, he added, "I guess your buddy down there found that out the hard way."

That did it. Starscream wrenched free of Thundercracker's grasp and raised one of his own rifles, pointing it at his spark. "This is your fault!" he snarled. "You filthy, sniveling, traitorous pile of slag! How dare you call yourself a warrior after trying to dodge the punishment that you so richly deserved?"

They were at point blank range, mere steps from each other, yet when Starscream opened fire, his shot somehow veered wide of its mark. He lurched sideways and nearly fell again, but Thundercracker caught him.

"Easy!" he said. "I wasn't actually gonna shoot—"

Starscream never heard the rest of what he'd been about to say because his tanks chose that particular moment to rebel. He had just enough time to wrench himself free of Thundercracker's grasp before they emptied themselves, violently and spectacularly, onto the hot stone pavement. Starscream would have crashed face first into the mess he'd just made if Thundercracker hadn't caught him once again, this time winding an arm around his waist to hold him upright.

"What's the matter, Screamer?" he asked, his voice now tinged with a hint of concern. "Are you sick?"

Starscream couldn't speak. His throat tasted of death and rust, and his optics felt like they were burning. Thundercracker just stared at him through a long, slow epoch of time during which an eagle's shadow swept over them and down the side of the pyramid, the stone blocks distorting its shape into meaningless zigzags of abstract shadow. Thundercracker's gaze followed it down to where Skyfire's body lay. He frowned, then glanced back at Starscream, his questioning look shifting into one of understanding. Just what he thought he'd understood was a different question, of course, but there was something in the hushed way that he spoke Starscream's name, then, that brought the words spilling out because frag it all, it just didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.

"You could have taken that shot!" Starscream spat, wrenching free of his supportive hold. "He didn't have the armoring for it! You do!" His voice was a quivering wreck of itself, and he felt as if he might throw up again, even though there was nothing left in his tanks. He didn't care.

"I… whoa. I'm sorry, Starscream," Thundercracker said, reaching awkwardly to pat his shoulder. "You said you knew him, but…" he paused, glancing at the sky. "Look, I hate to say this but Megatron's gonna get back here any klick now, and you need to pull yourself together, 'kay?"

Megatron, Starscream thought. Of course.

That was what he needed, what had to happen here, and there was the shiny new weapons-frame just waiting to be tested. Oh, he'd test it all right. He straightened, shrugging Thundercracker's hand from his shoulder, and strode to the edge for one last look at the mech who'd been his world, his purpose, and the light at the end of the long dark tunnel his life had become.

"Let him come," he said, his voice now steady. His tanks had settled, and he felt clear again, firm in his resolve. He tore his gaze from Skyfire's still form and turned away, starting up the steps toward the summit.

"Starscream?" Thundercracker called after him. He sounded apprehensive, as though he'd sensed something of Starscream's intentions. Starscream paused and glanced back down at him.

"Leave," he said. It was the only warning he planned to give, and probably more than Thundercracker deserved. Being a so-called "geek" had its advantages. He knew just how to cause a chain reaction in the crystal that powered the weapons-frame, a reaction that would take out the pyramid and, in all likelihood, a large swathe of the surrounding area. Megatron wouldn't know what had hit him, and he… well.

He glanced again at Skyfire's body. Would they find each other again, in some other realm? He didn't really believe in such things. It seemed more realistic to imagine that oblivion was all that awaited, but in any case, this would all be over soon enough.

That was when Skyfire moved.

It was just a faint stirring, a slight twitch of his arms before he settled back into unconsciousness, but it was enough to freeze Starscream where he stood. Sky… What should he do? Leap down the side of the pyramid and kick Skyfire off it, force him to fly? Or—

His internal debate was cut short by the roar of antigravs, and he glanced up to see Megatron swooping straight out of the sun. The Decepticon leader landed on the summit and strode down the steps toward him, while Soundwave, Reflector and Skywarp took up flanking positions near the weapons-frame. Megatron paused briefly when he caught sight of the purged fuel, which was still visible in the cracks between the terrace stones even though much of it had by now evaporated in the day's heat. His optics narrowed thoughtfully, but he made no comment as he came to stand at Starscream's side, gazing down.

"Alive?" he asked. Starscream thought about lying, but then Skyfire moved again, this time groaning softly. Megatron smiled. "An excellent catch, Starscream."

Thundercracker gave an indignant splutter, but Starscream silenced him with a scathing look. Megatron ignored both of them as his gaze continued to sweep almost hungrily over Skyfire's still form. Starscream knew that look, and what it meant. Megatron wanted Skyfire, in the way that he always desired those who were large and powerful and whose wills could be broken—through torture, reprogramming, or both—to serve him alone, and to fight and die for his cause.

"Take him inside the pyramid," Megatron ordered, "and see that you do no further damage in the process. With a few adjustments to his programming, he will make an excellent addition to the Decepticon army."

"But Megatron," Starscream began. "He's a civilian, he has no training—"

"Silence, Starscream! Do as I say, or face the consequences!" Megatron glowered at him for a moment, then strode away as if the subject no longer held any interest for him. Starscream, still froze to the spot, glanced down at the motionless form.

Thundercracker nudged him. "C'mon," he said, and started down the steps.

Starscream made himself move, finally, flying the short distance to where Skyfire lay. He dropped to one knee and pressed his fingers to the side of his neck, keeping his gaze firmly on Skyfire's face rather than on his chest. He didn't want to see the damage up close, didn't want to see what he'd done.

Skyfire's optics lit, flickering dully. "Staaaaar… scream," he said. His gaze was reproachful and held a sorrowful bewilderment that cut Starscream spark-deep. This was worse than the breaking of a bond. This was worse than anything.

Megatron always had maintained that all a warrior needed was a big, strong body—and, of course, unquestioning devotion to the cause. Skyfire's mind, his brilliance, his stubborn, independent streak, his sly, gentle humor, his… sweetness… all of this would be erased, overwritten as unnecessary. He would be left a hollow shell of who he was, and Starscream might not be able to do anything more than stand there and watch it happen. A large hand came up, reaching blindly for his, and he shoved it away.

"Don't talk," he hissed.

Skyfire gazed at him a moment longer. Then, a smile barely lifting the corners of his mouth, he sent an image across their bond. It was a barely-there flicker of brightness against an infinite black, something winged and brilliant, ferociously lovely. Dragonfly. Starscream stiffened. It was the old nickname Skyfire had had for him, back then, in that vanished world where they had been together and free, and the universe had been theirs to claim. A world where he had been… happy.

Thundercracker cleared his throat. "Uh… you wanna take his head or his feet?" he asked.

Starscream rose with a snarl. Might as well give Thundercracker the heavier burden, he thought as he took hold of Skyfire's legs. I'll find a way out of this, he vowed, though he sensed in his spark that his real troubles had only just begun.