Author's Note: Hi! Look at that! I was a good girl and updated within a reasonable time. I'm happy with myself! And I'm pretty happy with this chapter, considering. Thank you all for your feedback—and with helping with the couple other matters.

Ultra Chaos: AH! Thank you for noticing, I'll have to revise that again *shot* I can't believe that didn't sink in when I was rewriting it.

R: Thank you for the insight! I wasn't totally sure, and I think the site blocks certain users from seeing M-Rated and I wanted to avoid that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.

Chapter 7: Ratchet

"Fragging useless."

Optimus released a heavy sigh, a behavior he'd picked off of Rad, as he let his head lull to the side. "You were not useless, Hot Shot. You were unconscious. There is a difference."

"Doesn't feel that way," grumbled the young mech as he aided Prime away from the space bridge.

Starscream came in directly behind them, carrying Jetfire in his arms as though he weighed nothing. Although Jetfire was significantly larger than most mechs, the seeker had easily hoisted the shuttle onto his back, arms hanging over his shoulders. Starscream recognized why Soundwave had stabbed the white Autobot there—a pressure point. Right where the wing met the rest of the mech was one of the most sensitive areas on a flier's body (including seeker types). The Decepticon would've done more damage, if Megatron hadn't called the lieutenant back first (then Starscream knocked him out, too, before returning to fight with the Decepticon leader). Striding past the two other 'bots, the seeker swiftly moved through the halls and disappeared to the med bay. Hot Shot ensured to take it slower with his Commander leaning on him (plus, Optimus was heavy).

"Thank you," said the blue and red mech suddenly, "for bringing Starscream back to us."

The smaller Autobot grinned slightly, saying, "It was the Mini-Cons more than me. I think Screamer, there, has a soft spot for our tiny counterparts. Although, it might be because they don't speak the same language."

Optimus glanced at the young soldier with a quirked optic ridge before the two both chuckled at the thought. Giant, mean, unsociable Starscream enjoying the company of bubbly, sweet Mini-Cons? It was something Hot Shot could poke fun at him later on down the road. As the pair rounded the corner, a familiar face was waiting for them.

"You're such a youngling, Prime," grumbled a gravelly voice, "can't go anywhere without getting blown up."

Both mechs turned their gazes upward, and Optimus couldn't help but laugh.


Jetfire groaned in pain as his optics came online.

"Welcome to the world of the living."

The shuttle groaned again. Red Alert. Shifting a little on the metal surface and slowly moving his head to the side, Jetfire realized with an ounce of frustration he was in the Autobot base's medical bay, laying face-down, his back exposed. He'd left Optimus completely vulnerable, at the behest of Soundwave. A pillow of gauze was pressed against his wound, his wing moved out of its usual place.

"Everyone came back?" asked the second.

"Everyone's here," replied an annoyed Ratchet from his right.

"Ratchet the Hatchet," said Jetfire cheerfully, turning his head towards the orange 'bot. An obedient Optimus was sitting on the other silver berth, getting his shoulder repaired. Ratchet, in all his bright orange and white glory, was sitting just beneath him. The pain shrinking for a moment as a smile spread beneath Jetfire's faceguard. "Did I tell you how much I missed you in my last transmission?"

"All the more than the last," returned the hardened mech, bolting another screw into Prime's shoulder. "This time you two managed to really screw it up, though!"

"Hey!" cried both Commander and his second.

"Don't give me any excuses," snapped the other back as he bolted another, hitting a soft spot and making Optimus grunt. Totally ignoring him, Ratchet replaced the armor there and slathered another helping of numbing agent to the area. "You two are a more destructive pair than Jazz and Prowl—at least one was a tactics officer and the other a computer geek and could get work done! You two are just running around like misplaced younglings in the city, trying to figure out where all the missing toys are."

"We got the Mini-Con," muttered Jetfire with a huff from his surgical berth. "I think we're doing awesome."

"Awesome?" repeated the other mech. "I'm shocked you have as many Mini-Cons as you do! You might have a defected Decepticon, but that doesn't do slag when Megatron's sticking his super-charged cannon up your aft!"

Starscream, who watched with shock from the shadowed doorway, felt a chill come over him at the sight of those two getting chewed out. The Bearer of the Matrix, being scolded like a sparkling, with his second-of-command, the best flier known in the Autobot military, just the same…how did a mere doctor get away with it? Besides that, in the small time himself that the Autobots returned to the base, the medic had managed to completely put Prime's arm back together, and was now working on patching every other dent and split wire, while also yelling at the two high-ranked mechs. Good thing the humans left the base before seeing the terrifying medic.

"Things have taken a different turn than we suspected, I hope you'll know," said Prime with an irritated tone. "We've had to adjust!"

"You think Sentinel Prime adjusted when Megatron kicked off his head? I don't think so! I don't know what you think you're going to do with this mess of a plan, but it's not getting very far very quick! Plus, you haven't considered the change of environment, the indigenous population, the actual recovery of the Mini-Cons and how they would affect battle tactics! Plus," he said, glancing at Jetfire, "if what findings you've brought to me of Starscream is true, Megatron's lack of respect for life has dropped to an entirely new low! You two have completely lost your processors?!"

The pair went silent for a moment, Jetfire's wings slumping. Even Megatron wasn't so focused with his angry rants—he'd managed to explain each of their battle flaws in a matter of a few sentences.

"This is routine," mentioned Red Alert.

Gasping softly, Starscream straightened and turned to the other mech, but after a moment, he relaxed. "He's…not what I expected," he returned quietly.

"He's been in the military for the longest, even for a doctor," continued the younger medic, "he's legendary, not just because of his skills, but because he and Prime went to the Autobot Academy together. Back then, the Commander was…hrm…how do I put this…"

"Uninhibited?" supplied Starscream, returning his gaze to the other Autobots. Even Hot Shot was quiet, standing in the opposite corner of the med bay as he watched his two senior officers.

Red Alert turned to him and smiled. "Yes, exactly. Ratchet always kept him on his feet; it keeps him focused, but also Ratchet wouldn't tell him any other way. It's just how he is—you'll get used to it."

"You think I'll be around for that long?" wondered the seeker, half to himself.

"I would imagine so," returned the other. "But I just want you to be aware of how Ratchet operates. You'll be spending a bit more time with him, and he's very aggressive with his patients, whether you're previously Decepticon or not."

Starscream didn't say anything—he wasn't really sure how to reply anyways. 'I'm glad I saw the error of my ways by being turned into a living experiment'? No.

"Looks like you have a fan club," observed Red Alert, his tone turning to a cheery note.

Glancing down, the red seeker noticed the Star Saber Mini-Cons and a few others, all staring up at him with interest. He wouldn't have noticed them if the medic hadn't pointed them out, they were so quiet, even being in such close radius. Unsure of what to do, Starscream knelt down, reaching out his hand. Mini-Cons always reminded him of younglings—and he wasn't good with either. The six miniature mechs clustered around, climbing on him and sitting down on various parts—head, shoulders, forearms.

"Um," said Starscream to the medic, as though he'd made a mistake. "I…I don't think…"

Red Alert saw the struggling flier and helped removed the tiny bodies from his frame; he couldn't help but smirk as he saw Starscream carefully put the Mini-Cons back on the ground. He wondered if, in the past, the red flier behaved the same way around younglings as he did here.

Starscream wondered why the Mini-Cons were bothering him at all; not that he really cared, but unless he found a Mini-Con of his own, they shouldn't be so attached to a single mech. Plus, they just…stared at him. When the Decepticons had a plethora of Mini-Cons back on Cybertron a million years ago, they did not stare at mechs like they did to him now. Maybe there was a link to his "condition".

Before the ex-Decepticon could voice his opinion, Ratchet suddenly appeared at the door, wiping his hands of excess grease and oil. "Bumbling fools. And don't think you're out of my line of sight, Red Alert. You should be watching those two to make sure they don't get themselves blown up. Understood?"

"Yessir," replied the medic. Starscream recognized the attitude; don't argue with someone who just chewed out Optimus Prime.

"Starscream," said Ratchet, getting the flier's attention. "The actual reason of my being here. You look like slag, let's go to quiet office to talk."

"Yessir," he replied.


"Sit down," said the medic, pointing to a chair.

Starscream did as he was told, even as he watched Ratchet round Prime's desk and sit in the chair opposite of him. The ex-Decepticon had always been baffled by the Autobot medic named Ratchet—simply because, for such a short, hulky mech, he was very quick and fast-thinking in battle. He was plain with an ordinary box shape and no real weapon attachments, save for a cannon in his right arm and a welding tool in his left. Only once did Starscream meet the infamous orange Autobot in the middle of a firefight…and decided it would be the last time he wanted to. Starscream was certain he would've been able to take the mech alone…until Ratchet tapped a nerve wire in his neck, and stabbed him with so many drugs Starscream couldn't talk straight for joors. Megatron used the seeker as a point to never get too close to a medic in battle—especially Ratchet.

In one hand was a couple datapads, probably having all of seeker's information on them, and in the other hand were two cubes of energon. The doctor slid one over to him, then opened his own and took a sip, keeping his gaze on Starscream. The ex-Decepticon stared at the cube for a klik, debating if he wanted to enjoy it now and throw it up later, or drink nothing and dry heave instead. The idea of either made the desire to drink anything seem revolting.

Rather, Starscream decided to take up conversation to end the annoying silence between them. Plus, the medic just kept staring at him. "I suppose this isn't a first for you."

Ratchet remained quiet for a moment, then rested his own energon cube on the desk. "No, it isn't."

"Should I consider myself lucky?" he asked.

"At some points, yes, others, not so much," replied the old mech. "I wouldn't consider you 'lucky' in retrospect, however."

I knew that already, thought the seeker.

"Let me tell you something, Starscream," said Ratchet as he leaned forward, gather the younger's attention, "I've been a medic all my life. Since I was sparked, I was meant to do this job and it's all I've ever known. One thing I've come across dealing with other doctors is how a sense of ethics can mean a great deal between life, death, and the medium. Hook is a despicable doctor and scientist, one of the worst who have come across my field. He's done things to mechs that even Megatron's been mortified by and over the millennia, he's only gotten better at it. At this point, you're his most…'refined' experiment. If you didn't escape, I would have no shadow of a doubt that the Autobots would be in a serious battle with a mindless, powerful and very obedient Decepticon once known as Starscream. So, you are lucky because you escaped…but unlucky because you're halfway in between being a mech…and being something else."

Starscream steadied himself, realizing that he'd been fidgeting through Ratchet's speech. "Is there…a possibility that I can be brought back to my old self? Or…am I going to die?"

The office was quiet for a moment, the question bold in itself. "It's difficult to say," replied the doctor, "there's a lot of things going against you right now—the biggest is because we don't know what exactly Hook did to you. When you start fiddling around in a mech's spark and processor, things can go bad, very easily. You have to know exactly what you're going to be doing and how, with an immense amount of focus and foresight. The fact that you escaped it all…it's an incredible thing that you didn't just deactivate. Besides that, to go in and try to 'fix' you might lead to more damage than doing any good. You could end up going insane…or becoming nothing other than a husk. What's happening inside you might cause a chain reaction in your frame that will just…it's just too much risk at this point."

"There's nothing you can do?" whispered the red seeker, feeling his spark tighten in his chest like crushed metal. "I'll have to be like this forever?"

"There's no such thing as forever," said Ratchet, "and there's a lot of things that could make me end up being a liar. If I could get a hold of the datapads that have the surgical notes and procedure, then it'd be a very different story. If somehow you were able to remember enough, and if I were able to infer with that information exactly what Hook did by having to deal with past incidents like this, then it would also be different. Also, if I were to watch you for enough time and recognize what's going on from past experience, then it might be possible as well. However, by Red Alert's reports," he said as he picked up a couple of the datapads, tapping them, "you're the first of whatever Hook's trying to achieve."

"What if I could get Hook's datapads?" asked Starscream, already building a plan in his processor. "If I could somehow get them to you, do you think…?"

"As I said before, Starscream, until I know exactly what Hook did to you, there's no use prying open your processor. However, I don't think it will be easy to find the datapads you're looking for. As insane as Hook might be, he's not stupid. He knows the value of those datapads and will be protecting them just in case you get any ideas. Plus, it's a type of mission you'll have to take up with Optimus," he said as he leaned back into the chair. "If all you're seeking to do is get those datapads, I don't think Optimus will be too keen. It would require resources and manpower, unless you went by yourself, which has the risk of you being captured again."

"What if we could get Mini-Cons?" wondered the ex-Decepticon. "While Prime is getting the Mini-Cons, I can interrogate Hook. He's a mad scientist, but he doesn't have any hulk to him."

Ratchet smirked at this comment, before saying, "Like I said, you'll have to speak with Optimus. I've given my verdict, and it's up to you what to do with it. In the meantime, I'll be doing some routine check-ups and I want to begin a schedule with you. That way, if something is off, we'll know exactly when, where and how."

Starscream scowled, feeling the creepy sensation of claustrophobia blanket on him. He was a very private mech (as boisterous as he might be about certain things), and usually kept to himself, if he could. To be followed around by some turbo hawk would cross every threshold of personal space he knew. "You think…that's necessary?" he asked.

Ratchet gave him a flat look. "You want to argue about it?"

"I just don't like the idea of being followed around," muttered the seeker.

"Alright…well, first of all, I need to know where you're at if you have a medical emergency, second, having someone with you will keep the other Autobots at peace with having an ex-Decepticon around, and thirdly, I need to know your daily habits so I could make your condition as comfortable as possible," he said, quick as lightning, before he leaned forward again and said, "now it's your turn. Give me three good reasons why."

Starscream was baffled by the doctor's statement, flustering to try and thing of a good reason, but in the end sighed and gave up. "Nevermind."

"That's what I thought," said the medic with narrowed optics. "Don't worry, you won't be stuck with one annoying mech, you can be rotated to have someone else spend time with you."

Joy, grumbled Starscream to himself. "Hypothetically…if I find all the datapads and you were able to perform the surgery…do think I'll be able to be my old self again?"

Ratchet held the seeker's gaze for a moment, his blue optics burning with gust of a young mech, before he said, "Do you want me to be honest with you, Starscream?"

After briefly considering it, the ex-Decepticon decided he didn't want to be lulled anymore; he had enough of the lying and the cheating after having spent so much time with Megatron. "Yes."

"You're never going to fully recover from this, even if I do everything I can possibly do for you. The spark and the processor are two halves of the same whole—you mess with one thing, the other will forever be damaged. You mess with both…well, you understand. Ironhide is the best case of this…he has to struggle every day to gain control over impulses and desires, and he will never be the physical shape he once was and it's been a millennia since he went through what Megatron did to him," said the doctor quietly. "You, too, will never be the seeker that you were before the surgery."


"Starscream?" asked Jetfire.

"Leave me alone."

Jetfire mentally sighed. He would do just that and allow the seeker some peace, but he had actually been order as the first 'bot to be on "Starscream-sitting" duty. Optimus, knowing Starscream would easier deal with the sudden invasion of privacy by someone he trusted, immediately put the shuttle to work, despite his injury. After being patched up and a mild painkiller, the Soundwave's strike actually wasn't all that bad and (after getting back on his feet), Jetfire noticed Starscream march outside with a somber attitude.

The white shuttle reached around and scratched his side, trying to quell the throbbing from where his wound was healing. A cool evening breeze slipped over the red cliff of their base, rustling some of the dried-out bushes and short palms trees. Starscream was standing just on the edge of the cliff with arms crossed, watching the star-studded sky silently and alone. With some reserve, the second-in-command took a couple steps towards the ex-Decepticon.

"I…know there's not a lot I can say, but…" started Jetfire, as gently as possible.

Glancing over his shoulder, Starscream locked gazes with the Autobot for a moment. Then, turning to his left, the seeker took a car-sized boulder and tossed it from the cliff with a scream. Jetfire remained frozen as he watched the hulk of rock float through the air and finally collide with the hard ground below. The boulder split into several pieces, but the other was already turning to his next victim, yet another large rock, and did the same, over and over again. When all objects had been tossed from their vantage point and turned to rubble below, Starscream stood on the very edge and screamed for a long, hard breem. Jetfire ventured closer, making sure he didn't tumble over the mountain. The seeker's cry became lost within the black desert, fading into the darkness. When the ex-Decepticon was done throwing his tantrum, he slid down, settling with his legs over the edge. Back hunched, Starscream only shook his head as he murmured things to himself.

"Starscream," said Jetfire, kneeling beside him.

"I said leave me alone," muttered the seeker.

The white Autobot didn't move, but didn't say anything either. It was hard to imagine what Starscream might be feeling—although Jetfire couldn't deny he had his fair share of tantrums throughout this war. Too many mechs lost, too many femmes, too many younglings…and there was nothing he could do to bring them back. The shuttle assumed the seeker had a disappointing chat with Ratchet, although 'disappointing' would be a mild term. Starscream would never, totally own himself again, and Jetfire figured that was really torturing the 'bot. For millennia, he'd watched the ex-Decepticon battle everyone around him—Megatron, Optimus, Autobots and Decepticons alike, but most of all himself. On more than one occasion Starscream daydreamed about being the Decepticon leader himself, but never became collected enough to be a real threat to Megatron. Whenever the seeker came to taste a true, uninhibited power, he always somehow screwed it up for himself. At the end of the line, Megatron remained on top of the pyramid, and Starscream was left to deal with the dictator's onslaught for his "insolence". But, when everything else was torn away from him, he still had his name, which was something no-one could take. Although he carried a love/hate relationship for that name, he would forever be Starscream—except, now, he wasn't really. He'd been rebuilt into something else.

"Maybe…" the seeker began, almost in a sneer, "maybe this is my punishment? Maybe this is what I get."

Jetfire slid his legs over the edge of the cliff, leaning over so he could see Starscream's face. The ex-Decepticon turned away from him, though.

"I just wanted some fragging respect," he went on, "I can't fight, I can't control my own troops, I can't listen to orders. The only thing I can do is worthless, or isn't good enough. So I finally have power, but even then I'm not…"

As the red one's voice trailed off, the Autobot gathered Starscream was tipping on the emotional tide. Ratchet must've really laid down the heavy load on the ex-Decepticon, and Jetfire felt bad for the mech. Sometimes Ratchet was so straightforward (especially about one's own health), it really threw his patients a loop. Tentatively, the shuttle reached for Starscream's shoulder. The seeker didn't do anything, didn't say anything, so Jetfire moved a little closer. Suddenly, Starscream's wings drooped and he slouched, bringing a hand over his face.

"No matter how many battles I fought," muttered the seeker. "No matter how much good advice I gave or how many weapons I made for him…"

"Starscream," Jetfire said softly.

"No matter how many fights won…"

Gently, the Autobot urged the other closer, sliding an arm around the red one's torso and grabbing his arm. Starscream sought the comfort, the warmth of Jetfire's spark, leaning back into the second-in-command's larger shoulder. However, he still wouldn't remove his hand, even though the shuttle could see the pink energon tears smeared over his cheeks. The shuttle allowed Starscream his pride, but he knew the contact would help ease him.

"Starscream, that doesn't matter now," murmured Jetfire. "Want to know why?"

After swallowing the rock in his throat, the seeker replied, "Why?"

"Because you're an Autobot now," replied the shuttle. "Directly under the illustrious Optimus Prime, no less."

Starscream fell silent, cycling a haggard breath of cool air. Jetfire's statement was so blunt, he wasn't really sure how to respond. Megatron was all he'd known. In the short time he'd spent with the Autobots (a whole week and a half Earth time) versus the time he'd been alive (millions of vorns), he didn't imagine ever living a moment without somehow being reminded of the Decepticon leader in some way. Being an actual "Autobot" hadn't sunk in since he'd arrived—he felt more like an ex-Decepticon in the midst of Autobots. Joining the Autobots was his excuse to get back at his leader, like interfacing with someone else to make a spark mate jealous. It actually felt good to see Megatron so annoyed, to see him fight to get Starscream back in his ranks. At the same time, the seeker knew exactly what waited for him when he returned to them—the surgical bench. He would be tied down and pried open faster than the mech could blink. No, he couldn't go back.

Jetfire was talking again. "Being an Autobot…is so much more than just trying to defeat Megatron. If you give it a chance, you might be surprised. Give yourself an opportunity to focus on something else, a chance to pull all your attention from Megatron."

Starscream didn't know what to say. His processor was so cluttered with everything, he was unable to sift through the mess fast enough to reply. What Jetfire said made sense, it was the "logical" thing to do. It would keep the seeker alive long enough to kill the bastard, not to mention would throw the Decepticon leader off guard. But…

"You've gotta trust Optimus, Starscream."

Trust? Starscream was dubious, in the very least. "Is that what you would do in my position?" snapped the seeker, intending each word to come out as harshly as it did.

Jetfire paused momentarily, as though really pondering the question and completely ignored the other's tone. Blasted Autobot. Starscream, in the meantime, was beginning to come down from his particularly vulnerable moment and felt uncomfortable sitting against the white Autobot's shoulder. They were so close he could feel Jetfire's spark thud against its casing, the warm energy spreading through the shuttle's armor and against his back. He wasn't sure how Autobots did things, but he knew Decepticons were not the most physical bunch. The seeker especially noticed the way the Jetfire's arm was wrapped around his torso, his hand resting on the glass of Starscream's cockpit. It was too intimate for the red one's liking, but before the seeker could move, Jetfire finally responded: "I probably would've done the same you did. I would've joined the opposing faction. I mean…any leader's gotta be a better leader than one who experiments on his own soldiers. In the very least, I would try to come to terms with what happened. Most of all, I would have to make sure I learned from what happened. Why would my own leader betray me? And what would I do to keep that from making me suffer? And, if whatever was happening was affecting my health, would I spend my remaining time trying to get revenge, or would I spend it doing something which made me happy?"

The last sentence really struck a chord. Jetfire continued to babble, but Starscream remained on those words. Would I spend it doing something which made me happy? The seeker wanted nothing more than to get revenge—he really did. He wanted to punch the very life from Megatron's core and laugh as he watched the Decepticon's optics grow dim. But, he could…since he was no longer with the Decepticons…

He could do anything he wanted.

He could explore again, or finally go the Academy. He could conduct his work as a scientist, maybe try to find a way to cure himself. Maybe he could build a giant cannon for the Autobots and watch Prime blast Megatron into nothingness. The thought made Starscream smirk, despite himself. He wouldn't be pulling the trigger, but he could give Optimus the means. Plus, he would be doing something he was actually good at. Building things. Designing useful experiments. The idea gave Starscream a far-off look, instilling the same eager, pensive emotions he felt whenever he dwelled on things like that. Science. His true calling. How ironic it seemed, then, that the scientist became the experiment in the end.

"Starscream?" asked Jetfire suddenly. He must've realized the seeker wasn't paying attention to his unending chatter.

"Sorry," mumbled the other, "I was thinking of Cybertron."

Starscream could practically feel the sense of earnestness from the Autobot. "Thinking of the Academy?" he wondered.

"Yes," answered the seeker.

"I ended up going there for a little while," said the shuttle.

Not thinking, Starscream turned to Jetfire with wide optics and exclaimed, "You?"

A soft, rumbling laughter resonated from the Autobot's chest, reminding the seeker of Optimus. Jetfire's golden, molten optics were bright against the inky blackness of the night. "I know, a strange thought. I wanted to explore. Y'know, being a shuttle I had a lot of offer. If I had my way, I would've been able to take up a partner and spent vorns out in space, been able to see all sorts of things. In the war, I've still been able to see a lot, but not quite like I've wanted to."

"Is that what you would do if you were me?" asked the seeker quietly.

Jetfire cocked his head and immediately answered, "No."

Starscream was a little surprised. The way he was describing…"Why not?"

"As much as I would've liked to, I wouldn't be able to leave without knowing, in some way, I could help bring Megatron down, even if it meant I was scrubbing dirty floors. I wouldn't want anyone to experience what happened to me, too. That's why I actually dropped from the Academy and joined the Autobots in the first place," replied the shuttle.

The seeker went quiet, turning again to face the horizon. Selfless, foolish Autobot. He should've guessed in the first place—he was much like Prime when it came to Autobot cause.

"Is that…what you think I should do?"

Jetfire thought briefly, then, "What you want to do is your choice, in the end. But, if it's any consolation, I think you'd make a great Autobot."

Starscream snorted and shuttered his optics, hardly believing him. The white shuttle, slag him, had a good point, though. He wouldn't be able to focus on any experiments, even if he returned to Cybertron and started them. Too much had taken place, too much of his spark was in this war to stop until the ride was finished. In addition, the seeker still wanted an opportunity to give Megatron a good, decent beating for all the things he'd done, and he started to actually enjoy the company of some of these wayward mechs. Starscream would've never known how much personality Jetfire really had, and, unlike a lot of Decepticons, tried to understand the seeker's feelings. As pathetic as it sounded, he appreciated the white Autobot's attempts. Although Starscream had been changed in many ways, he still liked attention, in all of its assorted forms, and this was the first time in a long time the attention had been positive. Perhaps it was because Jetfire was an airborne Transformer as well, but Starscream imagined it was also because he was an explorer. They were alike on many levels—they had just taken two different paths. Starscream glanced at the shuttle and saw him gazing at the stars, his bright optics taking in the sky. His white, sleek armor almost glowed against the black night, his heavy figure handsome, his expression soft and friendly.

The ex-Decepticon couldn't help but wonder, of course, if the two had met before the war…would they be different? Would Starscream have joined the Autobots, or would Jetfire have joined the Decepticons? Maybe they would've done neither. Maybe they would've met, and explored together, and…

Returning his gaze to the sky, the seeker felt his processor go into a new territory he wasn't so sure he liked. His spark thudded with a new admiration for the white shuttle, but he still didn't entirely "trust" the Autobot. Then again, Starscream didn't totally trust anybody. He didn't trust himself. Although, as he leaned a little heavier on the shuttle, he fancied the idea of a future where they could go travel space together.

Finally, Starscream answered, "I think I'll stay."


A/N: I hope that was a better ending than the last chapter. Some good ol' fluffiness between Jetfire and Starscream is always fun! :)

Read and review, please!