A/N: Yeah it's short, but you're leaving for Thanksgiving anyway. Plus, it makes up for it in intensity.
XI.
Nemesis
Starscream hesitated in the corridor outside Megatron's control chamber. What is it I am doing? he asked himself. You do not ask Megatron for favors. You do not show up unsummoned. Especially not you. But his de facto banishment from Megatron's presence—his banishment from leadership, in effect—had eaten away at his better senses. He could stand no longer being sidelined. Pushed aside like some broken or obsolescent tool. He coded the door open and walked in, forging (badly) confidence. Megatron saw him, but lowered his head back to his command console, pretending to be engrossed in reading some report. Starscream knew Megatron read every report—as had he when he was leader—but while he had scoured for tactical advantage, Megatron was looking for flaws.
He waited, locking his joints audibly into position. He would not go anywhere until Megatron heard his request. If that meant he had to recharge right here, he would. Now that he was here, his warrior courage would not let him retreat.
A cycle later, Megatron addressed him, snapping him out of his low-power state. "What is it you want, Starscream?"
"I." He faltered, wishing he had some of Barricade's easy way of words. "I have failed you on repeated occasions." The words burned in his vocalizer, even though he had practiced them in his head for cycles.
"Yes." Complete assent. What had he expected? Megatron to argue with him?
"I am no longer of service to this unit. I would better serve the Decepticon cause reassigned elsewhere. Where the mission is not so critical." There, he'd said it. It had taken every bolt of courage he had to force those words over the knot of shame in his throat.
"No." Megatron turned back to his console. Dismissing him.
"My-my lord?" Dangerous ground.
"I said no, Starscream. Did you not hear me clearly?" A slight edge to his voice now.
"But I am," he heard his voice fade, "am a liability to our combat effectiveness." He hated how meek his voice sounded.
"The one place you are not a liability, Starscream, is in combat." As close as Megatron would ever come to praise. The jet said nothing, his eyes guarded. Megatron leaned back, irritated. "I will not honor your obvious desire to foment rebellion against me from some distant corner of the universe, Starscream. You will stay right here, where I can keep an eye on you."
Starscream blinked, stunned. Megatron had never questioned his loyalty so directly. His intelligence, yes. His competence—on a nearly solar cycle basis. His command decisions, certainly. But he had never yet been accused of outright treason. It smacked of dishonor, this distrust. Starscream felt his hands begin to vibrate with suppressed emotion. "Megatron. My lord. I have never—"
"Nor will you get the chance, Starscream. You shall stay under my command—and my eye. That ends the matter." He turned definitively back to his monitor. "If you feel so underutilized," he tossed over his shoulder, "you might lower yourself to running escort for the Tunguska transports."