Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of the support, it's made my return to writing a happy one! ^_^ I'll try to keep updating regularly, hopefully within a week for each chapter.
Please R&R, I'm so grateful for the feedback! :)
Idiot... Stop making this harder, Megatron thought in aggravation as he felt Starscream squirm, panicked, against his chassis.
The larger mech's armor was slick with the other's energon, and he found it increasingly difficult to keep a grip on the injured seeker. His desperate thrashing did not improve the situation.
This will be a feat for the ages, the former warlord mused, clenching his denta in concentration as he released his hold of the smaller mech.
Pulling himself free and shifting into his alt mode, the ex-Decepticon leader nose-dived, accelerating to fly faster than Starscream could fall. With a dipping maneuver, Megatron flew closely beneath him, so that the free-falling seeker dropped onto the fuselage of his jet form. It was a rough, jarring balance, and certainly not the safest way to transport a wounded mech, but it was the only means he had at his disposal. Sensing movement, he felt the flyer's long fingers curl weakly around the ridges of his armor, struggling to find purchase on the smooth plating. This heartened Megatron slightly. He wasn't offline yet, at least.
Why am I doing this? He had asked this question repeatedly since electing to respond to the distress beacon. He still found himself short of a decent explanation, and it was grating at him.
He flew slowly, so as not to dislodge his awkward passenger. As the trip dragged on, he felt Starscream's grip shifting, loosening and clenching as his consciousness ebbed. The seeker's energon was dripping steadily over both of their frames, leaving Megatron to wonder how much of the precious life-blood could possibly remain in his slender build.
A ruinous city loomed in the near distance: all that remained of a once-thriving metropolis from the first Golden Age. The ex-gladiator weighed his options against each other. If he dared to fly faster, the ride would be more strenuous for his frail passenger. On the other hand, if he kept to his current clip, Starscream might bleed dry before they even reached their destination.
The latter danger seemed more pressing, as did the possibility of a counterattack from the Predacons, so Megatron accelerated slightly, alert for any shift of weight that might imply the smaller mech was losing balance. He did his best to assure this would not happen, swaying deftly from side-to-side to center his load. It was not an easy flight, but at last the dead city lay below, and the Cybertronian craft made a careful landing amidst the rubble.
Tilting to one side, Megatron allowed Starscream to slide slowly free of him. Returning to his mech form, he paused to examine the state of his former second-in-command.
He appeared to be at least partially conscious, and was moaning quietly and ceaselessly, his optics shuttered, his venting uneven and strained. Energon continued to drain steadily from the worst of his wounds, and several damaged fuel lines were visible. The plating of his left knee was torn where the joint was bent against itself at a ninety-degree angle. Both wings were ravaged: one tattered by deep claw marks, and the other stripped two-thirds-of-the-way from his body. And his chest... Megatron could see the seeker's spark glowing beneath a last, thin layer of plating within the craterous hole Predaking had carved into him. Twisted metal surrounded the cavity, ripped gruesomely away from his frame.
The ex-warlord had to wonder if Starscream was alive by sheer force of will alone. It would certainly explain his uncanny record of cheating death.
Megatron lowered himself down beside the limp figure, cautiously sliding one arm beneath his knees, and cradling the seeker's back and neck with the other. He gingerly lifted him, and the flyer gave a soft whimper, shifting uncomfortably in his hold. Starscream's frame was unsettlingly cool to the touch; he had lost too much energon, and his functions were slowing. His wings twitched hesitently, then slackened, too tender to move.
The larger mech carried him inside the nearest structure, which shared an almost uniform state of disrepair with the buildings around it. The interior matched the exterior perfectly: crumbling and empty. The remains of this city had been picked clean of anything useful long ago, in the early days of the war. Megatron moved to one corner of the entry, where a pile of rubble from the collapsed ceiling rested. Kicking aside the debris, he uncovered a tiny console, small enough to rest in his hand, were it not fitted into the dusty floor.
He lightly prodded the device with one pede, and watched as it sprang to life. A thin beam shot from the panel towards the former Decepticon leader, then withdrew as abruptly as it had appeared.
Cybertronian characters appeared on the small screen, forming the message: 'CNA scan complete. Subject= full access to all facilities.'
At least Unicron has not twisted the very composition of my CNA, the mech thought bitterly, still adjusting to his new build. Whether or not he was stronger in this form, as Starscream had once surmised, it bothered him deeply that his own body been altered without his consent.
The screen fell black once more, and a soft, mechanical whirring broke the silence. The floor of the adjoining room parted, revealing a ramp leading downwards into a murky corridor. This was the hiding-place of one of Shockwave's laboratories, constructed before Cybertron had gone dark. Several of these installments were distributed across the planet, built into the wreckage of dead cities such as this one. All were below ground, and equipped with heavy interference fields to disrupt enemy scanners. Shockwave had mentioned this particular lab in the reports he had filed after his arrival on Earth; it was where he had repaired his damaged optic.
And thus, it must have intact medical facilities.
Megatron made a slow descent into the chambers below. At the foot of the ramp awaited an airtight door, which shuttered open at the ex-Decepticon's approach, then sealed itself behind him.
The laboratory beyond it was well-maintained, providing a sharp contrast to the derelict city above. Signs of recent use were easily spotted: the mainframe and the security fields were powered on, and a small array of modern surgical tools were piled on a table beside a diagnostics console. With relief, Megatron noted a meager stack of energon cubes in one corner.
The facility was somewhat cramped-the better to conceal it from Autobot scanners-but it made efficient use of the space it had. The walls were lined with vaults, cases, and shelves housing medical and scientific equipment. On one side of the cluttered room were three berths, each fitted with a system of restraints that extended or withdrew by remote command. It was unlikely that they had been installed for the treatment of the injured, but rather for more ghoulish purposes. A spattering of dried energon on the wall beside one served as another reminder that this was a Decepticon laboratory, not a medical bay.
The former warlord approached the small cluster of berths, lightly arranging Starscream upon the nearest one. He then attempted to position the torn wing in some semblance of its natural posture. The seeker screamed hoarsely in reaction, an intense spasm racking his frame. The sensitivity of a flyer's wings was incredible; to have them mutilated to the state that Starscream's were in... It would have been unimaginably painful, Megatron realized with a small grimace.
The barely-conscious mech had stopped moving now, his injuries still leaking away the last of his energon. The ex-gladiator had only a knowledge of standard emergency procedures... Hopefully, that would be enough to stabilize his 'patient'.
He began briskly sorting through the mess of utensils on the nearby table. There were a variety of laser-scalpels, drills, soldering tools, and countless instruments he could not name, but which suspiciously resembled torture devices. Uncovering several large syringes, he set them aside-they could be used to inject the unconscious seeker with much-needed energon. After a bit more digging, he pulled a cauterization clamp from the disorganized pile. This was used in emergency situations-a common inclusion in field med-kits (and thus refreshingly familiar to the ex-warlord). Its function was sealing torn fuel lines, preventing further energon loss until a medic could be reached. It was not a long-term fix-it would cause deficient fuel circulation, leaving the subject weak, nearly immobilized-but it was extremely useful on the battlefield for staunching severe bleeding.
Megatron debated whether or not he should inject Starscream with a dose of energon before he proceeded with the repairs. The frugal standard amongst the Decepticons had always been to give a still-bleeding patient energon only if their optics began to flicker-a sure sign of imminent stasis lock. In this manner, the Decepticons had conserved far more of the scarce fuel than the softer-sparked Autobots, who freely utilized their resources to aid the wounded. Megatron glanced over at the quivering mech on the berth, and dismissed the old practice; more than a few of his soldiers had been lost to it.
Partially depleting the contents of an energon cube, he filled one syringe to capacity. Locating an undamaged line in Starscream's lower abdomen, he carefully inserted the needle. The seeker gave a soft sob at the sudden pain, raising one arm as if to guard against attack, but letting it fall back to his side again as weakness overcame him. Megatron emptied the energon slowly into the mech's systems, then withdrew the syringe.
Setting it aside, he reclaimed the cauterization clamp, then reached for a leaking fuel line that protruded from the seeker's chest. Resting the end of the tube between the grips of the clamp, he activated the device, allowing the heat to seal the line shut. This, combined with the fresh energon, seemed to rouse Starscream from his near-comatic state.
"Please... master! I did not intend to defy... your authority... Have... mercy...!" the seeker gasped deliriously, optics rolling in panic.
"Fool!" Megatron hissed irritably at the other, his patience wearing thin. "You are not being tortured!"
Starscream gave no indication that he understand, or had even heard the words. His ventilation became more ragged, and he flailed uselessly at empty space, attempting to defend himself.
The larger mech found he couldn't quite blame Starscream for assuming the worst. After all, he had beaten the traitorous seeker to death's door countless times in the past.
And he earned every blow, the former warlord reassured himself coldly, recalling his second-in-command's infinite efforts to usurp him. Still, he felt a small measure of pity for the pathetic mech, who was spending the last remnants of his strength feebly clawing at the air, struggling to fend off his imagined torturer.
"Stay still, idiot," Megatron ordered warningly, pressing one hand against the smaller mech's shoulder to steady him.
At the harsh tone of his master's voice, the seeker fell limp, sobbing softly as liquid brimmed in his shuttered optics. Evidently, he had learned from his past beatings that less resistance often resulted in less pain.
With a sigh of exasperation, Megatron returned to the repairs. He sealed the remaining fuel lines, each touch eliciting a quiet yelp from his trembling patient.
Why am I doing this? He asked himself once more, but still his meta found no answer.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I ended up rewriting it several times, as Megatron's character development was giving me trouble. XD
This chapter focused on Megatron's perspective, but the next will return to shifting between characters. Poor Screamer was in too bad of shape to have much say in this one, lol. ;)
Since I've been asked about it, I would like to note that this fic was not written as slash. I DO enjoy and write slash, but I always label those stories as such, for those wondering. :)
