Title: Love Takes Hostages (pt 2)
Author: Ebony Kain (Ithilgwath)
Rating: totally worksafe (for now. Rating subject to change as the story progresses)
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own Transformers (well, I own a couple action figures, but…). Nor do I own the Endless. Alas!
"I didn't know you could stop being a god."
"You can stop being anything."
Delirium and Dream, in Sandman #43: "Brief Lives: 3"
Once a person gets the hang of it, going through life without a body is a lot more fun than Starscream would have previously credited. Hauntings are hilarious (who would have guessed the new Prime would be able to see him? And actually be a decent conversationalist? Though to be fair, the frequent bouts of self-doubt that mechling had are enough to drive a decent mech to the high grade.), and the whole possession thing, once he got the knack for it, has been a Pit-damned riot!
It had also, Starscream was thankful for, saved his old friend Octane. And Rodimus Prime had, for reasons the ghostly Seeker could only guess at, actually helped him.
It could have just been as simple as "the enemy of my enemy is my friend," perhaps. And anyone trying to take out Galvatron is decidedly on Starscream's good list. But it might have been the fact that, when Starscream had first been learning to deal with the no-more-body thing, Rodimus was the only one who could see him. And that had made Starscream inclined to actually listen to the Autobot when he needed someone to unburden to. Just for the contact.
"No seriously, this is just wrong," Starscream muses as he stares down into the cube of high grade Rodimus had just dropped in front of the mech Starscream is currently wearing. Some grunt who'd been about two steps from blowing himself up before the Seeker jumped into his body and handily avoided the land mine that would have blown the Prime's whole team sky-high. "You have all these... friends or something. I don't know. They like you. That's got to count for something. And you are surrounded by them. All the time."
Starscream takes a sip, sighing in enjoyment of something he'd been sure he wouldn't get to sample again, before continuing with a pointed look at the Prime taking heavy gulps from his own cube, "And it's the most notorious of all Decepticons that you can talk about this to."
"Me," he stresses, "You come to me, of all mechs, when you have a crisis of faith."
Great. And now the little garish little firebug looks downright morose.
"It's just..." Rodimus buys himself some time taking another swig of his cube. At this rate the kid will be falling down before he even stands up from his chair. Maybe Starscream should com. Springer before it goes much further. Or Kup. Just to have someone ready for it. But they both gave Starscream a hard time whenever they knew it was him, and since they'd been there when he stopped the idiot from killing them all, they know who he's currently wearing.
But they are no where nearly as bad as whenever Arcee knew he was hanging around. Unicron's aft, but that mech is vicious. And possessive. Almost makes Starscream want to wear Springer for a day to seduce Rodimus, just see what would happen.
Almost. There is something about Rodimus that makes Starscream feel like it would be robbing the crèche to take the mech to bed.
"Just what?" Starscream prompts irritably when the Autobot doesn't continue.
"I'll never be anything like Optimus was!" the Prime finally bursts, slapping his cube down to the desk and nearly spilling all over his datapads. "Optimus was a true leader, an icon! He fought so bravely and led us all so well and I'm never going to be that!"
Starscream says nothing for a while. There is something curling and squirming inside him, near where his host's spark is, but decidedly unrelated to the physical body he's wearing. "You mean that Optimus was a war leader. A commander. And you don't think you are."
Something like relief settles into Rodimus' expression as the young Prime nods. He's relieved that Starscream seems to get it. And the Seeker does. Maybe. On some level. He remembers trying so hard, in the beginning, to get Megatron's attention, reforming himself into something new again and again in a desperate attempt to keep it. And always feeling like a failure, no matter what. It was just... never enough.
Starscream's borrowed hand tightens on the cube as he keeps his borrowed optics on Rodimus. "Good."
Now it is shock that plasters itself to the Prime's faceplates. Starscream nods—to himself, to Rodimus, to the universe at large.
"Good," he repeats with hard conviction. "Maybe this means you'll act like a real Prime, then."
Ooo, now he's gotten anger to rise up in that expression. Good, good. That's always better than the depression, and lots more fun. Rodimus leans forward aggressively, "What the Pit do mean by that?"
Ah, a bit of hero worship, then. "Just what I said," Starscream slouches insolently in his chair, sipping delicately at his cube once again. "Optimus was a warrior. Granted, he needed to be or you lot would all have been wiped out when Megatron was just getting started.
"But tell me something, Roddy," Starscream's smirk grows as blue optics narrow at the casual use of a private nickname, "Just what do you think Primes did for allllll those vorns we weren't at war?"
That brings the sports car up short. Obviously he's never thought about it before. Starscream reminds himself that Rodimus Prime is young. How many files exist in his memory banks that are dated from before Megatron's uprising? Any? And it wasn't as if Sentinel had been doing all that great a job before Optimus—not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but that mech had been too eager to hand over any power he had to the Senate if it got him out of dealing with, well... anything.
All things considered, then, Starscream supposes that a priest taking up arms at least showed he still cared.
The ghostly Seeker resets his borrowed vocalizer and doesn't give Rodimus the chance to answer.
"The Primes are the high priests of Primus, you ignorant scrapheap," he'd meant the insult to sound more biting, but he just sounds exhausted instead. Must be from the mech he's wearing. Might be time to vacate soon.
"Your duties as a Prime do not, in fact, include killing or leading others to kill your fellow Cybertronians. That bauble," Starscream points to the flashy paintjob on the younger mech's chest-plates, "is meant to put you in direct communication with Primus, not sit as storage for dead mechs' memory files."
Oh blackholes and antimatter, the kid's got his thinking face on. Would wonders never cease? He is actually listening. And who was the last mech to actually do that?
Oh. Wait. Spoke too soon, then, if that frown is any indication.
"And why would you know what a Prime is supposed to be, then?" Rodimus sits back in his chair, suspicious. "You said it yourself, you're the most notorious Decepticon. You've probably got some scheme cooking away in that processor of you—er, whatever it is you have now. Why should I believe anything you've got to say on the matter of Primes?"
The borrowed mech's supraorbital ridge slides upward. Starscream answers in the driest, most deadpan voice he can, "Because I'm very old, and very wise."
It earns him nothing more than a scoffing snort. Starscream stares up at the ceiling, a glare contorting unfamiliar facial actuators. Sometimes he doesn't even know why he bothers. Why he sticks around at all. He doesn't even know what it is he hopes to accomplish.
But.
"Fine," he breathes through borrowed vents and vocalizer, "Fine. Then use it like it's nothing more than a massive storage device, and search through dead mechs' memories. See what you find. Or watch all the vid. files of them interfacing and jack to them. I don't care. You're all a bunch of fragging idiots and I. Don't. Care."
And then he's bursting out of the borrowed mech's frame, straight up through the ceiling and the next two floors. He doesn't even know where the fury comes from. It's not like he's unfamiliar with being mistrusted. With not being listened to. Megatron had done it all the time. Pit, his own trinemates had. Rodimus isn't the first. Probably won't be the last.
It's not supposed to hurt.
Starscream slows his ascent when he reaches the ground floor. He pauses to look around, not bothering to exert the energy to make himself visible to any of the Autobots walking around. What would be the point?
Black and white and a familiar sigil catch his attention, and he stops. She's heading toward the Medical Wing.
"I—" he starts, without meaning to. But it is enough to catch her attention in turn.
Death turns, waving to him with a cheery smile. "Hey there! Didn't think you were around here now. Weren't you hanging out with that friend of yours?"
"Octane?" Starscream is surprised she's paid that much attention to his doings. Though there were a few near-misses Octane managed to avoid. Maybe she'd just been in the area. "Ah, no. He and his... well, Sandstorm. It was interesting to watch the first few times, but it gets rather old just watching."
He doesn't really want to get into it. That sort of intimacy is something he misses fiercely, and can never get while just borrowing a body. Tactile overload is fun, but just not the same. And he really needs to change the subject before he starts dwelling on it again.
"Who are you here for, then?"
She nods, "Lojack's lasercore was too damaged in the fight today. His spark chamber ruptured just before First Aid was able to get his chest-plates open." She still smiles as she says it, turning to continue on toward the Medic Wing. Starscream wonders how she's able to smile considering everything she must have seen, every moment. The hate and the fear, the destruction, the torture, the callous disregard. But she's never disgusted by those she walks off with.
But then again, she is Death. What else is there, after her? She can afford to be so... easy-going.
Starscream stands his ground. As familiar as he's become with her, actually talking with her on occasion, he is still suspicious of following, or going anywhere with her. He refuses to be tricked into it. Just in case.
"What happens," he blurts out, anyway, because he needs to get it out and she's already to the next corner, "when gods die?"
"You're so sure it's any different than when anyone else does?" She pauses again, grinning a small grin over her shoulder, "Well, I guess you'll find out on our date."