The Rest Is Silence

Chapter 3 - Skyfire

Even if the Autobots were poor warriors, they made up for it by being excellent engineers.

That they had managed to repair Starscream at all was proof enough of that. The Decepticon's left side had been almost completely crushed, and the circuitry fault in his head had melted down part of the structure of his black helmet, but, remarkably, he had still been alive. This was a great, yet slightly guilty, relief to the lone Autobot who sat watching the unconscious mech through the bars of concentrated energy that formed the cage.

After the Decepticons had fled the battle site with their cargo, Skyfire had desperately tried to extract the severely-damaged Starscream from the rubble, somehow unable to believe that his wingmates and his leader would leave him behind so callously, yet realising he should have expected such behaviour. Oh, Cliffjumper had called him a traitor, Ironhide had been outraged that he was 'sympathising with the enemy' and Brawn had attempted to beat him upside the head to 'whack some sense into that ol' tin can', but... in all honesty, when Skyfire had seen Starscream lose control and careen into the cliff face, he had not seen the Decepticon officer. He had only seen his old friend from Cybertron - that innocent, lonely little mech with a big heart, an easy smile and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

So, upon hauling the seeker, who was drifting in and out of consciousness, out of the debris, he had requested that the Autobots repair him as best they could. Naturally, this had lead to a tirade of insults and suspicions, many of said robots being righteously indignant at the prospect of repairing the enemy. They had, quite rightfully, pointed out that Starscream had spent the best part of several million years attempting to rip their microchips out of their noses. They had also, again quite rightfully, reminded Skyfire that the entire reason that they had been shooting their orange-coloured lasers at all was to cause bodily harm to the Decepticons, and that repairing that bodily harm made their efforts a little redundant. One less Decepticon to worry about was a very good thing, was the feeling of the group. Then Jazz had remembered that Skyfire and Starscream had been friends, long ago, and he had reminded Skyfire that, even if he still cared for Starscream, Starscream most certainly did not care for him. That Starscream had shot holes through Skyfire's chest twice already should be proof enough of that.

But Skyfire had calmly, almost mournfully, explained that he simply wanted to know why. Since his rescue from his icy prison, he had not had a chance to just speak with his old friend. That much at least, he reasoned, was owed to him - by Starscream and by the Autobots. Besides, he had added upon seeing some of the more tenacious mechs glaring at him, Starscream was a coward and a high-ranking officer. He was probably a veritable goldmine of information and, with the right 'persuasion', he would give it up easily.

A little more discussion had coaxed even the most fiery-tempered of the Autobots into admitting, albeit grudgingly, that having a Decepticon prisoner would be a welcome boon in their war, and so Starscream had been transported back to the Autobot headquarters, where Ratchet and Wheeljack had worked their technical magic.

The two of them really were amazing, Skyfire thought to himself as he watched Starscream's prone form. There was barely a mark left on the seeker to show of his injuries. He had even been meticulously repainted to disguise the areas where rock had scored the metal of his exostructure (even if Ratchet hated Starscream, the medic was somewhat of a perfectionist and, once he had started a job, it had to be finished to the best of his abilities).

Now all that was left was to wait for Starscream to wake from stasis.

Skyfire... missed Starscream. Although he had been gone from the seeker's life for almost eight million years, it seemed like mere months ago that the two had set off to explore Earth. Skyfire had not been active for the time they had been apart; as far as he was concerned, all that elapsed between his crashing and Starscream's reviving him was mere months, but for Starscream... time had continued to move on. Life had changed. Something had happened that had caused a drastic turnaround in his personality. Oh, Starscream had spent his fair share of time in stasis too - four million years was no short instant - but so had all of those he interacted with on a regular basis. For them, it was like waking up after a long sleep; nothing had changed between them. Not like it had for Skyfire.

The large white mech found himself reminiscing about better days. The Starscream of the past had been... indescribable. Of course, Starscream still was indescribable, but back then, on Cybertron, he had been almost adorable, one of those rare few who manages to keep that childish innocence and naivete despite the trials of adulthood. He had a desire to know everything and anything, and had spent much of his time with his eyes glued to a computer screen, absorbing the information shown there. As such, and because he had been somewhat of a pacifist and of slighter build than many of the other robots in attendance at the Cybertron Science Academy, he had been an easy target for harassment.

Back then, Starscream had hardly spoken to anyone, out of choice rather than estrangement by his peers. He had been a solitary type, severely uncomfortable around those he did not know. He had had no friends at the Academy because he did not wish for any; he was perfectly happy to spend day after day with historical records and scientific theories, learning, assimilating... but this meant that he had no one to turn to when he wished to retreat from his tormentors. By the time Skyfire had found him, which had been one afternoon when the tall Transformer had walked into a small group kicking a prone figure on the floor, Starscream had built up a sort of immunity to the pain. He did not ever cry out or ask for help, or even plead for it to stop, but, even after he had become firm friends with Skyfire, he had tended to shy away from others.

From the day Skyfire had shooed those boisterous robots away from their uncomplaining victim, Starscream had latched himself on to his newfound companion. Skyfire, a natural recluse, thought at first that this would be irritating, but he had found that Starscream's company was far from that; instead of grating his nerves, it was thoroughly enjoyable. The smaller scholar had a brilliant mind. He was sharp, intuitive, and terribly enthusiastic. Conversations with him often led to theories, and theories often led to the two of them spending night after night in laboratories, conducting experiment after experiment (though so many of them seemed to fail or result in minimally catastrophic explosions - one of the senior tutors had walked in at just the wrong moment once and almost lost an optic). Starscream gradually opened up to Skyfire, and, with every new fact he learned about his new friend, Skyfire cared more. There was perfection, just the two of them.

Then...

Earth had taken Skyfire from Starscream, and something had taken Starscream from Skyfire. And Skyfire was determined to find out what. People did not change so radically simply because of the passing of an aeon or two. There had to be another factor, a third party that had morphed Starscream from that bright, studious young scientist to this cynical, deceitful, power-hungry killer. The old Starscream would not delight in the pain of others, nor would he indiscriminately murder friend and foe alike to further his prospects of power and control. There was something very wrong.

Morosely, Skyfire reached through the gap between the energy bars of the cage, catching up the seeker's once-familiar light blue hand in his own, letting his fingers trace the joins and the contours that he was so used to. Perhaps there was still hope. Perhaps there was a chance, no matter how slim, that he could get his Starscream back. That Starscream, he was sure, would join the Autobots. Things would be as they were. Perhaps there was a possibility that this ideal future would come to light. That Starscream could still be saved. That Starscream still wanted to be saved. That there was something to save Starscream from.

The Autobot shook his head, laying Starscream's hand across his chest and moving a little further backwards as his prisoner stirred. There was still so much he did not know. Hopefully Starscream would be in the mood to give some answers.