AN: And now, the moment you've all been waiting for (and then some)!

We did it guys! And yes I'm including you all in this because those reviews did loads to pull me out of my six-month writer's block funk, as did just knowing that people were actually reading this thing. So yeah, these two idiots are finally about to jump into bed together.

Without much further ado I'll get to the update, but first I would like to clarify two things: A) the smut is skippable for those who may be here exclusively for drama and OTP feels, and would rather not read about robots boinking. Just look for the SECOND page break/divider thing, and you should be safe from then on.

And B) once you're done reading the smut, proceed with caution. Because that is when the aforementioned feels are likely to strike.

Don't say I didn't warn you. :p

Now, onwards!

"You know, it might be an idea to lock the door first."

Arcee dropped his servo and sat down heavily on the berth. The damn thing was even bigger than the one she'd left behind - enough for two seekers to be uncomfortably swamped.

"Go ahead. But make it quick."

"Eager, aren't we, Nightracer?"

"I just want this over with," the femme snapped back. "Don't you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes."

True to his word, Starscream walked back to the door and activated the locking mechanism. Arcee watched him, pulling her pedes up beneath her on the berth, and tried to stop her spark from pounding.

"So..." Her new consort made no move from where he now stood. "How did you want to go about this?"

"First off, you could work on the pick up lines," the femme replied. When all she received for that was an eyeroll, she continued. "I'm guessing that's your way of asking what gets me revved up?" Arcee hoped he'd stop being so indirect pretty sharpish. The sooner they interfaced the sooner they could sparkmerge, and put the whole thing behind them - at least for a night.

Starscream made a noncommittal sort of noise - but he refused to meet her optics, so she took it for a 'yes'.

"Well before we do anything else, I want to take this one thing at a time. If that's alright with you. No sparks until we're done interfacing. And I'm gonna tell you now - those claws aren't going anywhere near my valve. But..." She pulled a face before going on, not quite believing it was Starscream of all mechs she was discussing this with.

"I'm still... getting used to the whole seeker frametype thing. If you've got any expert advice to share, that could be somewhere to start."

"A continuation of your lessons, then." He had finally turned to look at her, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"If you want to call it that. So," Arcee swung her legs round to sit stretched out on the berth. "Where do I start, sir?"

Perhaps she was playing up the bravado a bit too much. At the last word Starscream froze, before blinking and rebooting his vocaliser awkwardly. Again, he looked away from her, and a corner of Arcee's CPU began to entertain the notion that he was flustered for different reasons than first appeared.

She quickly declared that corner off-limits for the rest of her thoughts.

"I thought we wanted this over with quickly."

Her comment spurred the mech into motion - he moved to stand beside the berth, before hesitating.

"I have your consent, then?"

"I wouldn't be here if you didn't. Just get on with it - you sound like that fragging contract we had to sign."

"Well, in that case..."

The next moment, he'd run a claw up the side of her wing joint. Arcee gasped at the shiver that produced, and she knew he was smirking outright now.

"I think you'll find the joints to be quite sensitive," Starscream informed her. She looked up to meet the glint in his optics and scowled.

"This was what you wanted, wasn't it? Or would you prefer that I focus on the wingtips?"

He pinched one of these as he spoke, brushing his opposable digit over a spot that proved particularly responsive. Arcee was used to having her winglets played with during interface - which were fairly sensitive in themselves - but this was on a whole other level. Her sensornet lit up, the wing in question twitched, and she had to grit her teeth to stop a groan escaping.

Starscream's laughter sounded next to her audial, and she realised she probably looked like a newbuild on her first night.

"Stop gloating."

"Who said I was? If it's any consolation, I've heard this is quite normal for grounders who convert." He sat down on the berth, behind her. Talons stroked up both of her wing joints this time - and the gentleness of the touch took her by surprise. Enough that she visibly shivered.

There was something of a low-level charge going by now. Arcee almost regretted how quickly that'd happened; but for remembering how long it'd been since she'd last interfaced.

It occurred to her that the same was probably true for Starscream. The next time a thumb ran over her wingtip the femme gave a small, yet audible moan, and smiled to herself when his touch stalled for a nanoklik.

"Something wrong, 'Scream?"

"... Not at all. Though I must say, I didn't think the change would affect you quite this strongly."

Perhaps she should up her game.

Clawtips wormed their way into the base of her wing joint, and she didn't have to fake a reaction that time. Annoyingly, that prompted Starscream to start exploring gaps in the armour at her hip.

Arcee was just wishing that she could get at his wings to turn the tables, when the mech's digits found a cluster of wires near her waist and twisted. She swallowed another moan, but he still seemed to gauge the effect it'd had. A hum of amusement testified this; which evolved into outright laughter when another twist prompted a groan that she couldn't hold back.

The femme decided she was thoroughly fed up with Starscream having control.

"Shut. Up!"

She rolled and took him with her as he gave a yelp, slamming heavy black pauldrons back against the berth; seating herself atop his chest.

The Winglord gaped up at her - probably surprised, but the slightly dimmed optics made it equally likely that the slagger was turned on by this role reversal. Idly, Arcee remembered the last time she'd had him at her mercy like this: both of them upright, not flat on a berth, and with a blade against his throat.

Well, at least she wasn't intending to harm him this time. A mocking smile took root.

"Do I have your consent?"

"If you didn't, you wouldn't still be sitting there," Starscream threw back; before gasping as Arcee's digits reached down and found the base of his wing. She plucked at a wire in the joint and distinctly felt his hips shift behind her.

"What was that about it only being new seekers?"

She received no more than a glare in reply. And the Winglord's servo somehow locating her wingtip again. Too late, she realised that the wings in question had been hanging at rest down her back: easy targets. Arcee's own hands tensed against Starscream's shoulders, her back arching slightly as she gave a hiss of pleasure.

At the same time, talons slid up to her hip on the other side - their tips resting dangerously close to her aft. Apparently her consort was starting to enjoy this.

Then she caught sight of his undeniably lecherous grin.

Definitely enjoying it.

She really wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Starscream wasn't entirely sure how to feel about this.

On the one hand, he knew Arcee despised him - and the feeling was more or less mutual, if slightly less vehement on his part. That didn't exactly make for the most promising prospects this evening. Although it was only one night, he still hadn't been expecting to get much pleasure from it.

On the other, however, there was... this. An odd sort of reality when compared to his misgivings, though not entirely one he could complain about.

He'd had a plan in place, as it happened. Starscream wasn't completely blind to the effect Arcee's new life was having on her, and had eventually drawn the reluctant conclusion that allowing her control in this, at least, would make things easier for both of them. The plan had mainly consisted of making the femme irritated enough that she took control by herself - the Winglord would prefer to keep his pride reasonably intact around her - but it had worked.

... A little too well, truth be told. What Starscream had not anticipated was that as Arcee had gotten riled up, he'd gotten revved up. Which was only understandable really, but he tried to conceal it nevertheless.

Such a task was getting harder and harder, however (though he wasn't quite yet at the stage where that qualified as a double entendre). The femme atop his chassis was busily coming undone as he explored wingtip and hip, it was true (that nerve cluster at her waist had certainly been an interesting discovery) - but his admittedly self-satisfied smile was quickly wiped away as Arcee slid backwards and her servos brushed down his chest. Her digits lefts shivers on his plating in their wake. Soon they were at the vents either side of his cockpit and - oh Primus, those were sensitive.

Starscream gave the wingtip in his grasp a particularly rough caress by way of retaliation, but the damage was done. He was unable to conceal a grunt of pleasure as she toyed with circuitry and thin metal slats; and there was no way that she missed the click of his cooling fans activating. His spike - already mildly interested in the current proceedings - stirred behind its panel.

The panel that Arcee was currently sat right on top of.

It was the femme's turn to wear the slag-eating grin. Optics bright with amusement, she rocked her hips into his; and Starscream was sure he heard a slight murmur of laughter as he groaned, cable now pushing insistently against cover.

Arcee leaned forwards in her movements and stretched out a servo to rub the mech's wingtip. He was only marginally pleased when this backfired - her cooling fans switched on, but it was in response to the noise that had escaped his vocaliser at the sensation. That didn't exactly do much to claw back any dignity.

Starscream gave a quiet snarl and sent his EM field flaring in reply, engulfing the femme in an echo of the charge he'd built up. At the same time his servo slid up her leg; opposable digit circling lightly over her valve cover. Arcee shifted her rocking motions to centre on that with a low, pleasured moan.

She had her optics closed. Presumably so she could focus on the sensations and not their source - the Winglord decided that engaging her in more conversation at present wouldn't be the best course of action.

Instead, he directed his attention to upping the pressure over her valve. That was met with largely positive feedback, if the increasing volume of her response was any indication; and when on a whim he ran a talon along the edge of her new heel fin Arcee gave a near-shout, jerked her leg minutely - and the cover to her port slid open.

Remembering her earlier comment, Starscream immediately moved his servo out of harm's way. That, apparently, was not what the Autobot wanted: she cracked one optic open to glare at him.

"Just cause I don't want your claws in there doesn't mean I want you to stop."

"Well if you'd move long enough for me to get my spike out..."

He expected her to sit backwards onto his legs - instead, Arcee slid up to his cockpit. A bead of lubricant sliding down the glass was enough to draw his attention to the femme's port; and hold it there as he hesitantly extended a servo again. Crooking a digit, he brushed his knuckle against her external node and watched, exvents growing somewhat shallow as Arcee drew a hissing intake and the lips of her valve chased the intrusion.

More fluid dripped down over his claws. The femme seemed to have forgotten her previous comment to him - but as another moan escaped her his spike throbbed and he bit his lip, sending a silent command to open his codpiece.

His spike extended, but the femme above him was still preoccupied with the digit in her valve. As she ground down against his hand her aft brushed his now-erect cable, quickly building up a maddening charge in the mech. Her eyes were closed again - but her helm was thrown back, so she was clearly doing a decent job of forgetting exactly whose servo she was fragging.

Though in his current state, Starscream would've preferred to have a different part of his anatomy in that position.

He withdrew his knuckle from her port, which was accompanied by the faintest noise of protest until Arcee caught herself. Smirking, the mech reached for her hips to guide her back onto his spike, but she got there first; bracing her servos on his vents (one or two digits slipped between the slats to tease again, he didn't fail to notice) and lowering herself down until he felt the clench of mesh and callipers around the head of his cable.

She kept herself suspended there, moving her hips in the tiniest taunting circles. Starscream groaned in frustration and tried to pull her downwards, one servo moving to knead her aft.

It occurred to him that he was playing directly into her hands, so to speak, here - but at this point he didn't particularly care.

"What... what happened to - ngh!" - her port gave a very deliberate and distinctly unfair squeeze around his spike tip - "... to wanting this over with quickly?"

"Mm, I think I've changed my mind." Arcee was grinning, a dangerous glint in her newly-open optics; if anything, that made Starscream's cable stiffen further. "I hate you, but I do kinda like seeing you like this."

The Winglord would've sooner seen her sat on his spike. He was the one that wanted to move things along now, if for rather different reasons to the femme. Insistently, he tugged at her hips again, before bucking his own with a grunt as she slid further down his length.

She'd apparently decided to be merciful: within another couple of nanokliks their pelvic plating was flush with one another's, and Arcee was voicing her approval in tandem with her consort's as she resumed rocking her hips. He reciprocated with a rhythm of shallow thrusts and that approval grew louder.

"You seem to be enjoying this."

"Yeah, I am - long as I pretend you're someone else." She seemed more sure of herself now - likely due to the hold she had over him in the form of the slick, tight heat he was buried in. "I can't remember the last time I had a half-decent frag.

"Gotta say, I didn't think you'd be this big."

Starscream had been quite happily slipping into a haze of pleasure, as the femme's valve rippled around his cord - but at her comment he pushed himself up onto his elbows with an indignant protest.

"What's that supposed to mean, exactly?!"

Arcee only smirked at him, before lifting herself almost completely off his spike and dropping back down again. The Winglord briefly forgot his mechhood had been insulted, in favour of reclaiming his hold on the femme's waist and driving deeper into her. That at least replaced her smile with dimmed optics and parted lips.

Arcee leant forwards, her servos back on his chest. Her EM field was buzzing and loose as she neglected to control it; distracted as she was by the head of Starscream's spike against her ceiling node.

It was as he watched her, exvents laboured on both their parts now, that he suddenly twigged.

"The statue."

"Among other things." Arcee had bowed her head to stare directly down at him, and her violet optics were bright. Starscream wasn't entirely sure why, but his sparkbeat quickened; he prayed she wouldn't feel it where her servos were braced on his chassis.

Then he registered what she'd said.

"Other things?"

He would've pressed the point - had the femme not decided to squeeze her valve in a sudden, sharp contraction around his spike. The Winglord couldn't make much more of an argument than a wordless shout, talons scrabbling against Arcee's hips.

Primus help him, he wasn't going to last much longer.

Above him, his consort took up her circling motions again, rather more energetically; seemingly drawing the same conclusion. Starscream's movements had grown more erratic after that last surprise, but now he made an effort to thrust into her harder, adjusting the angle of Arcee's hips over his to better reach her ceiling node.

It didn't take long before Arcee arched her back and gasped. A string of curses escaped her vocaliser, only to be cut off by a near scream as she overloaded; digits dragging scratches down Starscream's chestplate and valve clenching rhythmically, frantically, around his length. That was more than enough to send the Winglord over the edge. He wasn't sure if it was Arcee's valve drawing him in tight or the sight of her above him that was responsible - but either way Starscream added his voice to hers, talons vice-like in their grip as transfluid spilled from his spike.

(The moment he was spent, he assured himself that seeing Arcee in overload would have done that to anyone. She was undeniably attractive - for a former two-wheeler - and he doubted that even her fellow Autobots would deny it).

As soon as she was finished, Arcee rebooted her optics and pulled herself somewhat abruptly off her consort's now-flagging spike. Starscream flinched with a slight squeak - and tried not to focus on the mix of fluids that stained the femme's thighs.

And dripped from her valve.

Hastily, Starscream averted his optics, grateful at least that Arcee was now clambering off the berth. Despite his efforts, he felt a twitch of interest from the direction of his pelvic plating. Or rather, where his pelvic plating currently wasn't.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and attempted to cover himself with his servos, before realising that the femme had reached the other side of the room.

"Where are you"-

"Washrack," Arcee replied shortly. "I don't want to be covered in transfluid for the next bit."

"There are such things as cleaning cloths, you know."

"I just need some time to cool off."

And to collect herself for what's to come, no doubt, Starscream thought. He couldn't begrudge her that, feeling much the same way himself. The interfacing was the easy bit. It wasn't even necessarily required, but if Megatron found them to have omitted it he'd use it as an excuse to declare their bond incomplete.

Fragging was something they were both well-versed in. Sparkmerging, on the other hand...

Starscream inhaled deeply, trying to slow his sparkbeat. (As the door to the washrack slid closed he also tried to avoid dwelling on what Arcee would look like under the solvent spray. The situation was awkward enough without him wanting to repeat the experience).

Scowling, he went in search of a cleaning cloth.

Arcee didn't want to admit she'd enjoyed that. As cleanser ran in rivulets between her wings and down her legs, she tried to forget how long it'd been since her last interface before this.

Another thing she needed to drive from her mind was how easily Starscream had got her wanting. Reassuring herself that her new, somewhat sensitive wings shouldered most of the blame didn't do much to quell her embarrassment. At least she'd turned the tables on him eventually.

There wasn't really any way to gain the upper hand for the next bit, though. All she could do was remember that Starscream would be just as insecure, and hope that things went smoothly.

Sighing, the femme switched off the solvent, stepped onto the cool tiles of the washrack floor, and quickly dried herself off with a cloth. The room itself was yet another display of slightly tarnished opulence on Starscream's part. More polished white metal covered the walls and floor - though here certain upkeep standards had clearly been maintained, as there was none of the oily sheen from the main staircase. Even through the hazy steam lingering after Arcee's wash, the panels shone. A huge oil bath dominated the centre of the room (she squashed a twinge of jealousy), with the cubicle she'd just vacated off to one side. Neither were in perfect repair - chips, scuffs and water spots were evident - but it was a marked improvement on the dusty equivalent in the femme's old suite.

From the Autobot base to rooms at the citadel, to the Winglord's private chambers... she really was going up in the world.

Said Winglord was stood by a window when she left the washracks. His optics met hers briefly before resuming their focus on the sky outside. Night had stretched its way over the city by now, and as Arcee approached her consort she tried to count the tiny spots of starlight pricking at the darkness.

She made it to twenty and couldn't find any more.

"There'll be more out over Kaon," she murmured. "You can see most of the southern constellations on a good night - the Golden Disk, the Key..."

"And the Void, presumably?" Starscream asked, gaze still fixed outwards.

"That's harder to spot than you'd think. Springer showed me, once. It's not empty sky you want - there's loads of that - it's the pattern of stars around it. You don't go looking for what's not there; you look for the bits you can see. The familiar bits. That's the trick."

"Well, there's plenty of empty sky out there. Not nearly enough stars, though - pollution will do that where bright lights don't exactly manage, here."

"That was one of the things I hated, when we first got here, actually," Arcee agreed. "Not being able to see the stars. It must've been amazing to go flying up there before the war."

Starscream remained silent. The femme debated waving a servo in front of his face, but settled on brushing her digits against his before moving away.

"Come on. We've got a contract to fulfil."

The Winglord gave a slight start and finally dragged his optics away from the sky. He began following her to the berth, but Arcee was struck by an idea. She turned to face him again and reached for his shoulders, guiding him round until he was looking back out at the window.

She could only assume it was nerves that had made him so passive.

At the femme's prompting he took one, two, steps backwards, and stopped when the backs of his legs hit the berth. The sound rang sharply, in a hush produced by two people who were uncertain whether words would make things easier or shatter the tentative peace.

Starscream barely had time to sit down before Arcee lowered herself into his lap.

"I... I'll go first, shall I?" he offered.

The Autobot nodded, her hands still braced against him. His own digits clinked quietly against her waist as one servo rose to steady her.

Scarlet optics flickered minutely and closed when the Winglord bowed his helm.

A deep intake was all the warning she received - it shuddered up through his shoulders to where she held him, before Starscream's chestplate began to shift. Layer by layer, armour and protomatter receded or spiralled outwards; pieces that made up the mech in front of her whispering over each other with clicks and rasps. Faint silvery light shone through the gaps, growing stronger every second as Starscream's plating unfurled like petals to expose his core.

Suddenly, Arcee was staring at the flat, impassive and slightly luminous expanse of her consort's sparkchamber. She could hear a quiet electrical hum behind the surface, and was half tempted to place a servo over it, to feel that pulse for herself.

Then she remembered whose spark was hidden in there.

"Open up." Her voice was harsh against his nervous intakes.

Starscream's optics flew open again and he opened his mouth - possibly considering a protest at her tone - but nevertheless, with a barely-audible click the doors of his sparkchamber slid apart.

Arcee's breath quickened as she stared at Starscream's life force: a pulsing, twisting orb of raw energy, that she couldn't quite believe contained everything she knew of this mech and more. Patterns of crackling light rippled around its corona, and at the core it was almost grey - and strangely dense, as though something was weighing it down.

The occasional touch of purple flickered across the edges of his spark, too, and despite Ratchet having reassured her on this point, Arcee still found her mouth twisting at the sight. The mech seemed to notice that; he moved his servo from her waist to her arm, prompting her to meet his gaze.

"It won't affect you," he said. "Ratchet's surely told you - once Dark Energon meets a spark, it decays. Quite rapidly. All you're seeing are remnants."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Perhaps you should have considered this before volunteering, then," Starscream retorted. "As it is, you can't exactly turn back now. We either finish this, or we lose everything to Megatron."

And Arcee couldn't argue with him. She'd gotten herself far enough into this mess already - there wasn't much more to do but see it through.

Besides, what's a bit of possible Dark Energon poisoning when you're bonded to Starscream?

She supposed that it was her turn, now. Pressing her lips together, the femme went searching for rarely-seen protocols; ones that she'd used maybe once a millennium for medical checks. It was strange how much weight they now held.

As she felt her own plating shifting to bare her to Starscream, Arcee's optics drifted back to the mech's spark. With a jolt, she realised she was seeing Starscream at the most vulnerable he could ever be.

She could place her servo over that ball of light right now, and close it and keep squeezing until I send you to join Cliffjumper in the Well, for everything you've done...

Yet here she was, about to give her spark to him instead. She wondered what Cliff would say about that.

The mech's hand twitched minutely on her waist, and Arcee's thoughts jerked back to reality. Glancing at his wide optics she realised he was probably fighting a similar urge to touch - though Starscream's expression was almost one of awe. Somehow, she doubted he had the same motives in mind.

"You ready?" the femme asked quietly, and it was the Winglord's turn to snap out of whatever he was contemplating. There wasn't much point in sitting and staring all night. They had... well, for lack of a better expression, they had a job to do.

That was all it was, really. A job. A terrifying one that would lead them into completely uncharted and wholly bizarre territory; but one they couldn't avoid if they valued their lives.

Starscream looked even more scared than she felt (though she knew he'd like to think he was hiding it), but he nodded.

"On three, then." She inhaled and closed her optics. "One..."

There was tentative, nervous fumbling as they leaned towards each other. Arcee hurriedly aimed her face away from Starscream's, resting her chin on his shoulder as her arms slid down his back.

"Two..."

She felt the buzz of his spark's corona against hers and flinched slightly, gritting her denta. His arm had come to encircle her waist - as the charge of their centres meeting grew stronger, his hold tightened.

There were faint whispers of a second presence creeping into her CPU: flashes of colour and distant memory; and something was drawing her onwards. A strange, electric attraction began in her chest and fizzed right the way through her frame, digits and pede-tips tingling. Arcee wanted to pull away and press further in all at once - overwhelmed by the almost primal feel of it, but at the same time desperate to complete the connection her spark was straining for.

Starscream shifted slightly in apparent discomfort, seeming to notice her hesitation. It was starting to grow painful, suspended on the edge like this.

Arcee released the last of her intake.

I'm so, so sorry, Cliff...

"Three."

Their cores brushed one another, and she moved against Starscream until her chestplates met his with a soft, metallic chink. Arcee barely heard it; too caught up in the sudden influx of sensation that radiated from their connection.

She couldn't feel her own spark anymore. That realisation sent a flare of panic through her side of the bond and she started pushing the other way, her servos scrabbling up to shove at the mech's pauldrons.

She was losing herself in Starscream, and it terrified her.

Vague, disjointed images were swirling through her processor now, stronger than before. She saw a panorama of glittering spires that could only have been Vos in its glory days; viewed by someone soaring high enough to brush the clouds. A face flashed past her that she recognised for its monochrome paintjob: Polaris, though her optics were blue and not the amber she now sported. She looked younger, and wore an expression of almost motherly concern.

With a start, Arcee realised that she - no, Starscream - had been lying on a medical berth.

And now she was really panicking.

As she tried to pull her spark away, the Winglord's other arm rose to hold her in place, and with that movement she was Arcee again, and the berthroom was growing dark around her. The memories still hadn't stopped, but they had retreated - she concentrated on Starscream's exvents next to her audio and tried not to let herself slip under again.

"If it's any consolation," the mech murmured, "I just relived that incident in the canyon from your point of view. It was more than a little surreal, believe me."

"This whole thing's surreal," Arcee replied, before submerging herself for a second time.

Now, she tried to control her passage a little. The fragments of Starscream's consciousness were growing brighter around her, and she felt twinges of thought that were not hers. Lost was the first, and for the briefest second she wasn't sure which of them felt it. Pride came next, unsurprisingly.

Probably still on his mind after interfacing.

I heard that!

Sorry.

Then, out of nowhere, the faintest brush of loneliness. It had a lurking sort of presence, as though it never really left the mech.

Arcee decided to follow it.

She was pulled now through strangely vivid memories, where the underlying tone from his spark was almost... happy. The loneliness still followed, however; tracking her through scenes that featured two particular mechs. Both were more heavily-armoured than her... than Starscream - but the purple one stood distinctly shorter, and wore an almost-permanent teasing grin, where the taller was serious and a little more slender.

And one word linked through all of this, supplied in an almost subconscious way; one learned and ingrained to the point that it didn't even need to be thought about.

Trine.

The femme was overcome, all of a sudden, with the realisation of just how deeply into Starscream she was seeing. Somehow it wasn't right, even in spite of their situation.

Shying away from thoughts of her - his - trine (and the all-too-familiar sensations of loss that told her far more than she felt she should know), Arcee delved back into the swirling mass that was Starscream.

He was chaotic. That notion strengthened as the bond took hold. She saw that her new sparkmate was someone who could easily get lost in his own self, never quite sure of what he wanted; and his spark felt strangely vulnerable around her.

He wanted to rule. He wanted respect, and recognition. He wanted his city, and all the risk that commanding it came with. He wanted safety. He wanted Megatron's post, and to be Megatron, and to never become this mech he so hated, all at once.

He'd wanted the world ever since he'd promised it to himself, but had never quite been able to reach...

She wanted her trine back.

No. It was getting harder and harder for Arcee to tell where she ended and Starscream began, but she wasn't ready to let go just yet. To remind herself of that, the femme focused on losses she'd felt - not Thundercracker and Skywarp (their names presented themselves with a disconcerting ease), but Tailgate and Cliffjumper. She alone had felt their loss, and she was Arcee because of it - not Starscream.

Tailgate and Cliffjumper.

She repeated their names like a mantra, building herself an anchor from the words.

Tailgate and-

Cliff!

He was there! Right there in front of her, his optics blue and his body whole; not the warped, Unicron-stained monster she'd last set eyes on.

Cliff wasn't happy to see her, though. His expression was hard and he looked... tired, like he'd just come out the wrong end of a fight. Nevertheless, she found herself smiling. She reached out to touch his face, and confirm that this was really her partner, returned to her.

Primus, I've missed you.

... Something was wrong. Her servo was rising, yes, but it wasn't curved for a caress. And it was lifting higher than his face. Up, up, up...

Then down, in a blur and a slash, and her claws pierced metal and wires and circuits and - there was energon welling up around her digits.

She felt something flicker and die against the tips of her talons; as Cliffjumper's spark gave a last, defiant pulse before guttering out. Cliff's mouth gaped open, his optics dimmed, and she wrenched her servo free with a smirk. Triumph burst in her processor, and she wanted to purge.

The mech before her toppled forwards, lifeless. A dark, victorious laugh bubbled up and escaped her, barely audible over the crash of Cliff hitting the floor.

She smiled.

She screamed.

And kept screaming, though she was back in a darkened berthroom and pushing herself away from the mech who was shouting - whether from the bond being severed or in a bid to calm her, she didn't know and couldn't care.

Arcee's spark burned.

The laughter (her laughter - no, Starscream's laughter, though she remembered it rising like a poison from her mouth) rang in her audios, low and cold and cruel. Her digits still fizzed with the memory of Cliff's spark extinguishing around them. Somehow, at some point, she'd staggered to her pedes.

Glancing down at her servos, the femme searched for the energon that must surely cover them - but her claws had shrunk and no blue stained the grey.

There was a mech before her, but he was upright and wide-eyed and-

I put him out of his misery.

He begged me to!

She hadn't believed it, not for a moment; yet Arcee still felt as though she'd been betrayed.

Starscream started forwards hesitantly.

"Arcee..."

"Don't touch me!" she spat, backing away until her wings hit the wall.

Her spark was still exposed. Never moving her optics from Starscream's face, she activated the protocols to cover it.

"What did you see?" he asked softly.

Her stare turned incredulous. Then the fear in his optics registered.

"You know what I saw." Arcee began edging towards the nearby balcony door - if she could get outside, away from him... "You must have known this was going to happen, and you didn't do anything"-

"What could I have done? You agreed to this, and you knew what happened!"

"Knowing is not the same as seeing myself stab him through the spark!" She was screaming again.

A sob slipped out and she finally lowered her optics - only to see Starscream half-raise a servo in warning.

"Arcee, don't do anything rash"-

But all she could focus on was those claws. The ones she'd worn to rip Cliff's spark out.

Before the mech could stop her, Arcee lunged for the door and fled onto the balcony. Hearing his approach behind her, she transformed and took off, soaring upwards towards the scattered stars.

She wanted to keep flying forever: maybe if she kept going long enough she'd run out of fuel and fall from the sky, and she could finally find Cliff and tell him she was so sorry-

No, that hadn't been her. She needed to remember. And, Arcee realised, she couldn't run away. If Nightracer disappeared it would jeapordise the Autobots.

Still, she couldn't go back. Not tonight, at the very least.

The dome that crowned the Winglord's tower had a small, flat spot right at its centre. She transformed again and plummeted, turning the stars to streams of light (and trying not to think about their similarity to the ones that'd ringed Starscream's spark). Landing heavily on the platform and bending one knee beneath her, Arcee glanced upwards, her exvents laboured.

A cloud was creeping its way over the stars.

Her consort was somewhere just below her (he was not her bondmate - apart from anything else, they hadn't seen it through). Would he still be out on the balcony, scanning the sky for her? Or had he retreated back to his quarters?

It doesn't matter, either way.

Arcee knew what - who - she needed right now, and she wouldn't find them if she stayed here. With one last look up at the cloud-covered sky she rose to her pedes again and stepped off the platform, running down the dome until it steepened and pitched her towards the ground.

The femme dropped like a stone and the world seemed to slow around her, as the chill wind whistled past. There were no stars here - just blurred grey metal and glass. She activated her transformation protocols for the second time, hanging suspended for a moment before her engines kicked in.

It was probably her imagination, but in that second she thought she heard a faint cry of 'Nightracer!' from the top of the tower.

Arcee ignored it and headed for home.

AN: You guys have no idea how long I've waited to post that. Hope it didn't hit you all too hard, and I'll try to update pretty soonish once I finish chapter 11 - I know this was kinda cliffhanger-y. :p

TTFN!