Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers…

Warning: Unbetaed…

AN: Well, I had said earlier that if you wanted to see certain characters in this story to give me a review telling me which ones, but since my friend made a request before anyone else has, here come the seekers! Thank you Molten-Ashes and Freakygumdrop for reviewing thus far. Please enjoy.

Twisted Perception

Chapter Three: Healing Over

The screens flashed bright blue, casting a hazy glow over the darkened room, giving it an almost eerie presence. Not that the young seeker was concerned about the strange mood such lights tended to give the small security room, but he still let the though mill about in his processor for a bit, leaning back in his chair and bemoaning his boredom.

Security duty was not, by any means, on his list of things he liked to do so early in the cycle, but he'd learned to live with it. Of course he'd whine and gripe every moment he got- just to get on his commander's nobs- but in the end, he'd always complete his duty, and he'd do it right. Not many ever got to see though, and when they did, there was always someone else directing him on how to do so. But he didn't mind.

The dark purple seeker put his hands behind his helm and stared blankly at the screens, briefly scanning over the vast expanse of white rock, which of course, held nothing but the occasional camera flicker or dust particle. But he kept on watching, lost in thoughts he only ever allowed when he was alone.

Immature, rowdy, prankster, troublemaker, he had come to terms with these titles long ago, accepted them and internalized them in such a way that even he, to some extent, believed them to be who he was. But even with the words spoken and the laughs laughed, he knew they were not true, not really. But he accepted them, and in turn, they defined him, made him free.

The door to the security room slid open softly, giving just the slightest screech in protest from vorns of neglect. Light flooded in abruptly, as did a calm voice. "We should really fix that." The entering bot mused softly, almost as if to himself.

The seated bot snorted, because that's what the others expected of him, and plopped his feet on the monitor board with a haughty smirk. "I wouldn't know about that TC. Last I checked you were in charge of such things, and me-" Dramatic pause for effect. "Well, I'm just the bot makin' your job that much harder." He waved his hand absently, chuckling. "Besides, it's like an early warning system. I'll be able to jump the bot 'for he gets me."

The blue colored seeker shook his head, wearily, but offered the other a small smile nonetheless. "Skywarp, we both know you don't have to be this way anymore." For a moment his voice trailed off, something deep and painful crossing his face before it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "We are no longer Decepticons."

Skywarp tilted his helm, giving his trinemate a sideways look that could be taken as mocking, if his trinemates didn't know it was just a habit from having played the role for far too long that is. His lips twisted into a well-practiced grin. "I know that, but it's kinda nice knowing I have something to call my own." And it was true, because if Skywarp couldn't be in control of his life, couldn't control his fate, he could at least control what others thought of him. Because in war, that's the only thing one lonely soldier has control of.

Thundercracker nodded, resigned, before leaning against the now closed door, his optics never leaving the purple seeker. He too knew the pressures war put on one's integrity to self. In all honesty, it had- almost destroyed him.

How many times had be turned a blind eye on the pain of his fellow seekers, wore that Primus damned mask of indifference as his own trineleader was beaten down in front of him? He did not want to recall, he was not like Skywarp or Starscream. He could not completely remake himself in the name of survival, nor could he remain unchanged. Something had to give, and in the end, it was his ability to care that gave way.

After so long of hiding the pain and doubting his every action, his every word, he just stopped caring, couldn't even conjure up the effort to feel guilty about withdrawing from his trinemates. And that's what made him worse than any of his brethren, because he would neither push or pull, accept or deny, only watch on with cold optics and wait for matters to resolve themselves. At one point, he wouldn't even hold his trinemates in his arms and conform them anymore. He just- didn't care.

The sight of a hand being waved in his face startled Thundercracker from his silent musings, causing him to tense involuntarily. He only relaxed when a pair of bright purple optics got right up in his face, watching him with finely tuned curiosity, though they both knew what the blue flier had been thinking about. They were a trine after all, and now that their bond had been reopened after their defection from the Decepticon forces, there were no secrets between them.

A pair of arms slipped around him, and Thundercracker had to keep himself from flinching away at the touch. This was all still too new, too foreign for him after so long of keeping himself at a distance.

"It's okay TC." Skywarp comforted softly, voice softest it'd been since the beginning of the war, a small glimmer of what he'd once been shining through. "We still have each other, and that's all that matters. Just never shut us out again."

Thundercracker hesitated, but wrapped his arms around their trine's youngest and nodded silently, echoing his conviction over their bond. He doubted that even if he wanted to, he'd not be able to close himself off from his trinemates again. He…was just starting to learn how to care again, and now that it had managed to rear its head after so long of being oppressed, it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Not while his spark was still pulsing within his chassis.

That was a promise.

Clawed fingers dug mercilessly into the thick railing beneath his hands, denting and slashing into the metal in a vicious display of forced restraint. His face battled between a sneer and a grimace, contorting into something resembling a pained scowl. His shoulders were rigid, much like the vast expanse of his white wings.

The coneheads had enough sense to remain quite as they watched their leader glare up at the overhead screen with intense white optics, his posture locked up in such a way that they knew he was ready to strike out at anything that startled him from his focus. They had never been dumb, reckless and confrontational sure, but never stupid- they wouldn't still be functioning if they were.

The scene upon the display depicted the battle raging on between Autobots and Decepticons from various angles from the sky and ground, catching every settle detail and vooming in on various subjects of interest- no doubt the cassettes visual feeds; even with his defection, Starscream had not been willing to cut off all contacts with the new Second in Command of the Decepticons.

Not that they had been dreadfully close friends- if such a thing truly exists in war- but they had understood each other better than anyone else in their fraction. They believed in the Decepticon cause, believed in its truth and its message, it's army, before it began to warp into the hoard of mindless brutes it had become. Both had seen the change, understood the madness that had become ingrained into their leader's spark, but neither had been willing to leave, still loyal to the cause as they were.

There was a distinction between them though, a vastly different sense of loyalty that had come to define them in every aspect of their lives as Decepticons. While Soundwave's loyalty was, and possibly always would be, to Megatron, Starscream's loyalties lie in himself and his fellow seekers. It was a clashing concept.

That was the great divide between Starscream and Soundwave. One that had been made clear when Soundwave turned down Starscream's offer to deflect right along side him, though the Air commander still held some vague hope that Soundwave would one day reconsider. It had been Soundwave who had allowed them to slip through security unnoticed after all. They may not have been friends, but they understood each other and the evils of this war and despised it. Perhaps they were the only one's who ever truly would.

"Bluestreak." The cold, calculated voice that floated through the screen snapped Starscream from his wandering thoughts, bringing his full attention to the display overhead just as the visual of the Autobot's SIC came into view. Thrust hissed at the sight of the tactician, and Ramjet's engines screeched in rage. "Shoot him, he's in the way." Dirge shivered slightly at the sight of the blue Autobot shooting down his own comrade at his master's command- yes, they rightfully say master because in truth that's what Prowl was, the Autobots' master, the figure behind the curtain pulling all the strings.

In a hesitant voice, one subdued by vorns of being trained in the art of perfect obedience towards his mentor and caretaker, wide, blue optics shining with the need to please and serve the one he admired most, the young bot spoke. "How was that, Prowl sir? Do you have anyone else in the way you need me to get rid of for you because you know that I'd do anything for you because you are my most precious person and I just want to see you happy and don't want anything to displease you? What about Jazz? If you want I could shoot him he's just over that ridge and he's not looking this way yet and we could tell Prime that he was just another casualty and that there was nothing we could do and-" Prowl merely raised a hand and the other was silent, crestfallen but obedient nonetheless.

Silence, or as silent as a battle field could get, but with the settle gesture of his master's hand as a signal, Bluestreak suddenly twisted towards the sky and shot, causing the video feed to cut off into crackling static. Fortunately, Starscream had seen it coming and alerted Soundwave of the incident before it even occurred. From what the seekers could see from another video feed on the wide screen, Lazerbeak had managed to swoop in and catch Buzzsaw before he could fall into the Autobot's awaiting grasps.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I missed his spark chamber so he's still functional and they're out of range now so I can't get in another shot until they circle back around. I didn't mean to miss, I really didn't, but he swerved out of the way at the last second and it only managed to…" Prowl sent one cold glance over his shoulder, expressionless and calculating as though he were staring off into the distance, and the younger bot lowered his head in shame, not daring to meet his master's optics.

"That was close." Dirge said lightly, under his breath so that only his trinemates could hear- though Starscream's hearing allowed him to eavesdrop anyway- and Ramjet grunted in agreement.

The lead seeker glanced over and took in Ramjet's on edge posture, noting that the white jet would need extra training time that cycle so he could work off some of the built up aggression he'd been no doubt harboring due to their lack of action of late. Ramjet seemed to feel the stare, because he glanced up briefly and flicked his wings in understanding before taking hold of his trinemate's hands and dragging them out to the makeshift training field.

Hopefully, the defected Autobots would already be there and they'd all have one big free for all to release some tension. Starscream shook his head lightly at the thought, but knew that as long as the former Autobots and Decepticons were working together in less than hostile terms, then there was hope for a future together. Luckily, they'd been actually very accepting of each other all things considered, so hopes for the future were high.

With all others gone from the command area, Starscream turned his attention once more to the battle displays flashing before him, watching with an ominous scowl as howls of pain and crackles of twisted delight echoed through the speakers. Something deep within his programming longed to be apart of that senseless violence, to be the one tearing into the armor of his former enemies and allies, screeching his pleasure as their Energon seeped into the deepest seams of his hands. He longed for it so much it hurt.

Starscream tensed as a particular scream pierced through the speakers, whole frame going ridged as memories long sense pass swirled within him, throwing his mind into a frenzy of chaos and regret, pain and a deeply rooted instinct to kill. He remembered the deaths that had fueled his energonlust, remembered the begging and the screaming, the feel of helpless victims struggling under his hands as he tore their very sparks from their chambers. His own spark began racing at the memory feeds.

Without focus or conscious direction, the air commander began to stumble away from the command center, grasping at the wall for support as lashes of guilt and regret ripped through his spark, followed closely by the call of long denied dark desires. They washed over him, dug deep into his plating and settled within every crevice, every wire of his being, calling him back to the sight of the battle, the wails of anguish. He could even smell it, the heavy metallic aroma the spilt Energon of so many must have made. He craved it.

"Help, please. I need-" He whispered, weakly, almost choking from the tightening in his throat, hand slipping across the wall, slicked by Energon he had not noticed, now dripping silently down his wrists. "I-" He looked down to his hand, seeing marks his claws had pierced through the palm of his hand.

He could not feel the pain, or the fear of bleeding out. He could only feel the Energon that streaked across his arm in bright, pink ribbons of scorching liquid, and the way it cooled as it slowly dripped along his wires. It crossed his mind just how good the sensations felt.

There was no clarity through pain, no means by which he could pull himself from the haze that had settled over his mind, the pull that lulled him into the very depths of insanity. The nothingness he recognized within stirred his need for destruction, disorder, roused it to the peak of obsession, and then the pain that would follow in the heat of battle would fan the flame of madness within him until it was all he could feel. He could not control himself when all was lost from him and all that remained were the sensations.

Starscream's vision faded, beginning to slur into a mass of color and sensation, the first stages of his control slipping. And just when he was beginning to lose himself to the swell of insanity bubbling within him, hands shot out and took him into a gentle embrace, grounding him from the sensations.

Starscream tensed, everything coming back into focus with a painful slap of reality as those arms tightened around him, pleadingly. The veil of haze lifted from his mind and all he could feel was the overwhelming regret and the gentle arms that held him even as he shook in the depths of his own despair. He returned the embrace, cautiously, looking up and feeling his world come crashing down with the truth of it all laid out before him.

"I'm so sorry." His hands came up to caress the mask covering the other's face, sliding his fingers delicately across the smooth metal, soothingly. "I will never leave you, never hurt you again. I promise." The hold on Starscream's frame tightened as the eyeless, mouthless, expressionless flier leaned into the touch, sensing, but not feeling, the slim fingers upon his mask. "Skyfire."

AN: NO! Not Skyfire! I love him too much! All well, it had to be done. (Love ya Skyfire. 3)

Please review…