there's a million&one ways
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A/N: holy crap. i have no idea why this took me so long to write. o.o anywho, enjoy.
and rotf was omfg . . .
replies:
tlcoopi7,, we'll they are a match made in heaven (some days). :x
dixiegurl13,, party's at the ark. c; && yuppers! i'm doing in a slightly different style (1st person) so it's taking a bit longer, but it'll be out next week or two. ^^
ever free,, well i failed the first part of getting it out early. Dx but i got the second part with screamer right. :D i just had to get some of the boring parts out of the way so that the story can be set up properly. :3
randomchick1995,, i'm glad your enjoying the story. c: && thank you. ^^
autobot alythia,, sunny has his moments -- they're just short lived, lol.
tsuki hoshigaki,, it gets better -- sunny plays for the horde. x3
pairings: starscreamxannabelle vs. ironhidexannabelle; what a twisted little triangle of love.
disclaimer: i do not own transformers or any of them; they are rightfully copy-writed to their respectful owners.
"this-is-cybertronian-and-it-s-a-pain-to-type"
"this is com-link, or whatever the heck it is called these days."
breem = 8.3 minutes
as a note,, i perceive the term "brother" in the tf universe as a close bond that is only one step below bondmate. thus when someone says "brother", it is a very significant term that isn't to be joked around with.
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The rain had begun to pour, and it sounded like hundreds of miniature hammers were beating on Bumblebee's exterior. The old, heavily beaten dirt road leading to her house was a slippery mud pit. The crackling and rippling sound of thunder traveled across the atmosphere, leaving a few moments of silence before filling it with even louder bellows. The pale ebony clouds provided the perfect background to the contrasting lightening. It felt as if every air particle was super charged and ready to explode. It was storms like this that made Annabelle nervous. She didn't mind the rain, but she loathed the snarls of the thunder. She hated how the sky seemed to scream and yell uncontrollably.
CRRRRRRRAAAAAACK!!!
Annabelle couldn't moved her head away from the window fast enough as the thunder once again snarled. She pulled her feet close to her, and wrapped her arms around her legs. Not even the gentle sound of My Immortal by Evanescence could calm her nerves. "Could you turn up the heater, Beeman?" she asked. "I'm cold."
"Sure thing, Annie," he answered. The sound of the heaters pushing out warm air filled the small space inside the car.
Anna flinched again as another shockwave of lightening rippled through the sky like an angry god.
"Have you always been scared of storms?" Bumblebee asked.
"For as long as I can remember," she stated. "Why?"
"I just find it weird that you being you, are scared of storms," he answered. "You're so stupidly brave at times that it seems funny that you are scared of a little lightening."
"Glad you find it funny," the human replied sarcastically.
"Please don't get mad at me, Annie," the mech said. "I was just poking a little fun."
"I could never be mad at you, Beeman," she informed. "You give off too much positive energy to be mad at you. You're like a sun that's constantly giving off light."
"You've been around Jetfire too long, Annie," he stated.
"Maybe. . . "
The car came to soft stopped in front of the old farm house. Annabelle unbuckled herself before sighing. She looked at Bumblebee's hologram and smiled. There was something boyishly cute about the blonde surfer image that always made her smile. She leaned in forward to give the hologram a brotherly hug. Despite Bumblebee's best attempt to hug her back, she felt sad. No matter how realistic their hologram became, there would always be that lack of human touch to them. And as Annabelle pulled away, she purposely let her hand slid through the hologram. Bumblebee's human image temporarily flickered at the interference. A hologram was nothing more than a fancy ghost, and a constant reminder of what would never be.
She leaned towards the door, and put her hand on the inside handle. "Come back soon, Beeman," Anna said warmly.
"I'll come back as soon as possible," he promised.
She nodded approvingly before opening the door. The human darted for the porch, splashing mud onto her jeans. She raced up the porch steps and out of the rain. Sliding her muddy shoes off, Anna watched as Bumblebee drove away. Annabelle opened the door, and was greeted by an overly excited Duke. "Hey, li'l buddy," she welcomed. She patted his head gently, before walking passed him. Her off-white socks muffled the sound of her feet against the cherry wood floor. She picked up the pace as she passed the kitchen.
"Anna?" Sarah called. Peeking around the corner, the middle-aged woman looked at her daughter as she made her way up the steps. "Anna, will you come down here for a second?" she inquired. "Anna, please. I want to talk to you."
She stopped momentarily. Her left gripped the railing as she thought about her mother's request. Anna could take advantage of this to get back onto her mother's good side, or as she favored, take this chance to be the rebellious teen she was suppose to be. She huffed. "I don't know what you're trying to do," she replied. "But I'm not going to be apart of it." The young woman continued to move up the stairs.
"Anna please," she begged. With her own sigh, she placed the bowl of dog food on the ground before heading up the stairs. She marched up the steps, determined to get to the bottom of Annabelle's bad behavior. She found her daughter's behavior stressful, and it worried her. This wasn't at all like her daughter. Sure Anna had always been a little feisty and ornery like her father, but never had she been purposely disrespectful. Sarah couldn't help feeling that it was partially her fault.
She moved down the cream carpet hallway to Anna's room. Sarah generally would've taken time to at glance at the pictures of the family on the wall, but her mind was too focus on her daughter to care about a picture. Sarah stopped at Anna's doorway. Knocking lightly on the door frame, she asked, "Can I come in?"
Anna continued to stare up at the ceiling as she lay on her bed. Her arms were crossed irritably. "I told you," she repeated. "I don't want to talk to you."
Sarah's shoulders fell down at the negative answer, but it would not deter her. She moved into Annabelle's mildly messy room. She bent down to pick up her daughter's U.S. history book, and placed it on the brown dresser. Her mother rotated the picture of Annabelle and her friends a fraction of an inch. She stared into the mirror that hung over the dresser. The virtual image of an irritable Annabelle didn't help to ease her nerves.
Turning around, she bent down once again to pick up a dirty tee-shirt. Sarah placed the tee-shirt in her lap as she laid down on Annabelle's bed. The woman sighed as her daughter turned her back to her. She carefully stroked Annabelle's head like a caring mother. "Anna," she spoke softly. "Please don't be mad at me."
"I'm not mad at you," Anna corrected.
"Then why don't you talk to me?" Sarah asked.
"Because I'm tired of talking," she returned coldly. "And I'm tired of no one taking what I say seriously."
"It's just a phase," her mother reassured. "I felt the same way when I was your age."
"Somehow I don't think you did," Annabelle stated.
"Anna." She placed her hand on Annabelle's shoulder. "I'll always be there for you," she stated reassuringly. "And I'll always love you, Annabelle." A soft smile grew on her face as Annabelle sat up to face her, but Annabelle's face wasn't nearly as kind.
She brushed her mother's hand away. "That's what you used to say to dad," she retorted. "And now you don't say it at all. So unless you mean it, don't say it."
Sarah reached out and let her arms wrap around Annabelle. To her surprise, Annabelle seemed to melt into her arms. "Annabelle," she said softly. "What your father and I are going through is different. I know it's been difficult for you to grow up and deal with our hectic relationship, but just because I don't get along with Will doesn't mean we have to be estrange either."
She gently pulled her daughter closer to her. "You're my daughter, and my only child," she added. "And I will always love you -- no matter what happens with Will and I." Sarah felt Anna lay her head on her shoulder. "It was you and I for a long time," she explained. "And it'll always be you and I, Annabelle. Nothing is going to tear you and I apart." She leaned down and gently kissed Annabelle on her forehead. She pushed a lock of Annabelle's hair behind her ears. "I love you Annabelle," she whispered. "And I'll always be here for you."
Sarah unwrapped her arms Annabelle, and began to get up when the sound of her name stopped her.
"Hey, Mom," Annabelle asked. She looked up carefully at her mother, and bit her lip. "You want to make brownie batter and watch a movie like we used to do when it stormed?"
She smiled. "We haven't done that in years, Anna," she stated.
"I know," she replied. "But it kind've sounds good today."
"Let's go see if I have any brownie mix in the kitchen," she said. Sarah waited for Annabelle to get off the bed and take the lead before following her daughter.
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The rest of the journey had been quiet. Neither Jetfire nor Ratchet spoke. Both seemed to want to avoid talking about the matter at hand. The light thudding of their foot steps was replaced by the squishing sound of mud and water. The low moan of distant thunder did not phase the metallic aliens. They had become domesticated enough to ignore the threats lightening poised. The feeling of water dripping into their circuits was irritating, but neither complained. It was a small price to pay for close company.
"I wonder how Anna is holding up," Jetfire said, trying to break the silence.
"Not well would be my guess," he replied. "I never understood why she was afraid of a little thunder."
"Humans don't always make sense," the scientist suggested. "They're a very quirky species."
"I couldn't agree more," the medic answered.
The scientific duo turned away from the tall shrubs and gangly trees, and headed towards the side of a low, decaying mountain. What was probably once vibrant landscape with wildflowers and grass had become a dull grey terrain. Rocks littered the area, and only a few patches of grass dared to grow in the poor soil. Loose mud and murky water dribbled in between the rocks on its way down the mountain. The site was unpleasant to most, but a warm welcome to the two autobots. They carefully moved passed a cleverly placed boulder. Behind the boulder two silver doors open, and the drenched autobots entered their base. The two came to a halt as Optimus suddenly appeared from behind a corner. Only their heavy mass kept them from falling onto the ground.
"Optimus, Sir," Ratchet greeted in a surprised voice.
"Easy, Ratchet," he replied. "I didn't mean to scare either of you." He looked down at Ratchet before shifting his gaze to look at Jetfire. "I need you two to watch the base while I help go look for Sideswipe."
"In this weather?" Jetfire inquired.
"Sunstreaker thinks that the Seekers are using this as cover," he informed. "And if so, then I need to go out and help find Sideswipe. I trust both of you can handle this?"
They both nodded.
"Good," he said. "Keep your frequencies open in case anyone finds anything."
"Yes, sir," Jetfire answered. He side stepped to the right to allow their leader to walk through. "Be careful," he added as the doors opened for Optimus. "It's bad weather."
The mech turned his head so that he could see part of Jetfire. "Thank you." he answered. In one swift movement, he transformed into his vehicular mode, before driving off into the rain. His absence was marked by a louder moan of thunder. The storm was coming closer.
A growing puddle of water surrounded both giants. Their dull reflections were disturbed by the rhythmic impulses their bodies gave out. With a slight rotation of his torso, Ratchet turned to face Jetfire. "I'm going to grab some energon from my office," he said. "You want any?"
"Yes, please," he replied. "Thank you, Ratchet."
"No problem," the medic responded. "Why don't you go start analyzing those charts while I get it."
"Yes, sir," Jetfire answered.
Ratchet's feet swished the water around as he walked away. Water that had settled on the flat, horizontal surfaces of his armor ran off of his person, and onto the ground. The medic refused to look at his armor. Like Ironhide, or any of the autobot members, he too had started to develop a thin line of rust along the outer rims of his armor. Earth, for as beautiful as he found it, was not always Cybertronian friendly. No thanks to the rain, the entire group would eventually need replacement parts for armory if they ever returned to Cybertron.
The mech turned into the med bay. His blue optics widened at the mess of his bay. The medic's prized tools were scattered across the floor, and bits and pieces of Starscream's armor lay on the floor as well. It looked as if the twins had been partying all night. The mech's pleasant face turned into irritation. Very few things ever irritated the medic, and having his med bay a wreck was one of them. Ratchet carefully bent over, and picked up his industrial welder. He placed it on the nearest table.
His attention was immediately diverted to a small, coal black shard on the table. It was small, perhaps a third of the size of Anna's hand, with uneven edges. Familiar symbols were embedded into the metal. He carefully picked it up, and stood gawking at the shard.
'It couldn't be,' he thought to himself.
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Sunstreaker stood beneath an overpass with a defeated look on his face. Nothing -- that's all they had amounted to in the pass hour. Absolutely nothing. There was no sign of any Seeker or his brother. They had checked, and then doubled checked the area where clearly a bomb had gone off. There was no sign of any previous struggle between his brother and Thundercracker. It seemed as if he merely vanished.
Ironhide walked slowly towards the youngster. His blue optics held sympathy towards the green horn. The young autobot knew so little about war, and often the old soldier forgot that Sunstreaker had no more experience in battle than Bumblebee; but unlike Bumblebee, Sunstreaker was only the equivalent to a seventeen year old boy -- he took things much more personable than the usual soldier. And in war, Ironhide had learned that you could never take anything personable -- it only lead to trouble if you did. With a heavy sigh, Ironhide stopped beside the yellow mech, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Optimus gave the order to randevu back at the abandoned gas station," he informed.
"I know," he muttered back. The young mech moved out of Ironhide's grasp, and gave him the cold shoulder. He looked towards the heavy skies, watching as lightening raced in between the clouds. His optics searched for a sign of a seeker's reflection, but all he saw was clouds. Sunstreaker officially hated clouds now.
"Don't give me that attitude," Ironhide scuffed.
"I can give you whatever kind of attitude I want," Sunstreaker retorted. He flashed him a venomous glare, before watching the clouds again.
Ironhide's hands became violent fist. "You get your sorry ass heading north now, boy," the soldier commanded. "Before I - "
"Before you what?" the mech snapped. "Give me a lecture on respect. It's about all you can do these days."
"Boy, you're - "
"Ironhide," Optimus called over the frequency. "Are you two heading to the randevu point?"
Ironhide glowered at Sunstreaker. His face stern as he held back every urge to go teach the mech a lesson in respect. "We're on route as I speak," he confirmed. "Sunstreaker is leading the way."
"Good," the mech responded. "We'll be waiting." The line went quiet after his words.
"Well, he's going to be disappointed," the ferrari remarked sourly.
"No, he won't be," Ironhide warned dangerously. His optics narrowed down as Sunstreaker began to walk away. "Where the hell are you going?!"
The rain began to fall onto his armor, making a light patting sound. Mud and dead grass stuck to his feet as he left the cover of the under pass. His optics glowered at his dirty feet. He hated rain -- he hated mud! He hated this god damn planet and all it's little surprises! Most of all, he hated how inefficient his team was. None of them seem to take this situation seriously. 'Hell,' he thought. 'They're probably glad that he's disappeared.' "I'm going to find my brother without you bullshitters to weigh me down," he replied venomously.
"Even if you find them, you can't take out multiple Seekers," the mech answered quickly. "You'll end up dead."
"You mean you would end up dead," Sunstreaker corrected. "I won't."
"What do you mean you won't?!" Ironhide argued.
"Unlike you," he sneered. "I'm not some washed-up soldier. I'm the most valuable to the team."
"Washed up!?" the mech roared. "I am not a washed-up soldier, you fucking slag!" Ironhide marched towards the young mech. His patience with him had snapped for the final time. He lifted his fist, and prepared to teach the sociopath who the authoritarian was.
Sunstreaker turned around, and ducked easily to avoid the soldier's punch. "If you're not washed-up, then please explain to me why you became Starscream's punching bag at Mission City?" he asked hastily. He moved aside easily again as Ironhide threw another punch at him. "You know why Optimus brought you along to Earth?" he taunted. "It's because he didn't want to hurt your ego. Optimus just couldn't bring himself to hurt his old, out-dated friend."
"I'll show you out-dated," he muttered. In one swift movement, his canons slid down to his forearms as he aimed for the mech.
"This only proves my point," he stated. "Without your canons, what are? Seriously, Ironhide, think about it. Without your canons you're nothing but an expendable autobot. And you know what the funny part is? You actually think you're valuable." He lifted his head up smugly, and refused to look at Ironhide -- Ironhide was too much of a shame for him to even acknowledge him. "You know, if you had stayed with your friends and joined the decepticons," he stated. "You'd be dead like them. But poor Optimus has to drag your sorry ass every where so you can feel like a hero. It's pathetic -- your pathetic."
"I may be old," Ironhide stated. He lowered his weapons as he began to walk towards Sunstreaker. "Hell, I may bite off more than I can chew at times, but I have one thing you'll never have." He stopped a foot away from the yellow twin.
"And what's that?" he scuffed.
"A story to tell your brother and anyone who'll listen about how a stupid autobot got himself killed, and got nothing in return for his death," the mech spat.
"That would be a good story, except that I'll be the one telling the other soldiers about why old bots should leave the fighting to the true soldiers," Sunstreaker retorted. "Then of course, you would never understand." He sneered at Ironhide as he turned his back to his commander. His body began to reconfigure itself as he transformed into his earth alt. With an obnoxious snarl of his engine, Sunstreaker zoomed off.
Ironhide grumbled to himself as the young mech sped away. "Dumb ass," he breathed. The old mech turned around, and began to transform. His wheels spun several times before catching the friction of the smooth road. A black cloud of smoke came out of his tail pipe as leapt from zero to fifty miles per hour. The highway, was silent to his delight. There were no cars for him to tail gate -- nothing for him to vent his anger out on.
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Jetfire sat quietly in the room. His fingers raced across the digital pad. Five different, neon blue screens appeared before him. One was centered directly before him with the other four screens placed at the corners of the center screen. His face displayed quick, analyzing thoughts. In most cases he would take time to examine the data, but with Sideswipe held captive, he couldn't help but feel guilty. Perhaps if he had been more bold, Sideswipe and the others wouldn't be in this position. He scrolled down the page, looking at the day's wind charts. Only the distant sound of Ratchet's footsteps broke his concentration. He swirled in his chair to see Ratchet approaching the room, and apparently holding something other than energon. The confused expression on Ratchet's face brought worry to the autobot. "What's wrong?" Jetfire asked hesitantly.
Ratchet stopped, and held up the shard of medal. "This," he replied. "It's a piece of the Allspark."
"Where'd you find it?" he inquired.
"In my office," the medic replied. "It's a wreck! It looks like a twister blew right through the med bay."
His optics became abnormally wide. Images of Starscream sprawled out helplessly on the floor flood his optics. The absolute look of desperation and helplessness had clung to Starscream's optics, but the shame the prideful Seeker had shown seemed more painful than his wounds. He remembered the look of an unsympathetic Ironhide as he said everything was a-okay. "Starscream," Jetfire breathed.
"What?" asked an even more confused Ratchet.
"Starscream," he repeated more frantically. 'It came from Starscream,' he try to add, but his vocal processors were momentarily not responding. The scientist lifted himself out of the chair, and pushed passed the medic. He jogged down the hallway, taking sharp turns and nearly losing his balance in the process. Jetfire was completely unaware of Ratchet as he tried to keep up with him.
The slick, sound of Jetfire coming to a halt was overlapped by Ratchet's desperate call to grab the scientist's attention. The mech quickly pressed the translucent red button, and stepped into the elevator. Turning around, he placed a hand on the far right door of the elevator in an attempt to welcome the medic onto the elevator.
The medic hurried into the elevator. The sound of the doors echoed in the small, metal space. Ratchet's facial expression was torn between agitation and complete confusion. He stared up at the forty-eight foot tall autobot, hoping to grab his full attention, but Jetfire seemed to be too wrapped up in his own little world to even notice the medic. "Jetfire," he stated sternly. "Jetfire!"
His optics blinked at the sudden sound. At the sound of his name, he looked down at Ratchet. "Yes?" he inquired quickly.
"What are you doing?" he replied.
"I'm going to go see if my hypothesis is right," Jetfire explained innocently.
"What hypothesis?" Ratchet asked. The rough stop of the elevator caught the medic off-guard. He peered into the room as the doors opened. The mech hadn't remember the basement being so confined looking. The pale cream floor was surrounded by dark grey-almost brown walls. The ceiling was an even deeper shade of the ugly color. Ratchet watched as Jetfire hurried out of the elevator. "Jetfire!" But the scientist ignored him.
The medic gave a huff, before exiting the elevator. He hated how the brightest scientist (whether it be Preceptor, Wheeljack, or Jetfire) never explained their actions. They always seemed to assume that everyone knew what they were talking about when they referred to something that only they knew. The medic observed as Jetfire carefully deactivated the cell walls before entering Starscream's cell.
The tall autobot knelt down beside the Seeker, overlooking the new dents on his head armor. He hesitantly placed his hand on Starscream's head, and rolled it towards him. Almost a perfect imprint of one of Ironhide's so-called "toes". Jetfire put Starscream's head back into it's original position. With a heave, he carefully and expertly rolled the seeker onto his back. He moved his hand to the Seeker's cockpit, and carefully placed the other one underneath the interior armor. The mech turned his head, and asked, "You think you could help, Ratchet?"
He nodded. The medic approached the recharging seeker. He knelt down beside the scientist. "Hold him down for me," he ordered. Ratchet placed a hand on either side of cockpit, and slowly began to slowly pry it open. The cockpit creaked as natural forces fought against Ratchet to close to the cockpit. A hard click echoed off the walls as the cockpit piece was snapped into an open position. Ratchet peered into the cavern where an eerie, almost light-blue light shimmered through the cracks of his spark chamber. His optics scanned the spark chamber, analyzing the dents and scraps. He noted how the circuit leading to the spark chamber was healed. "I don't see what you are getting at, Jetfire," he said. "There's nothing here."
The ebony autobot stood back, watching the spark chamber. "That's because Ironhide interfered," Jetfire explained. "Optimus relayed the information you told him about the all spark fragment. And there is no spark fragment now." The mech looked towards the medic with a serious gaze. "Which I would bet my spark had to do with Ironhide."
"Why Ironhide?" Ratchet inquired; but as Jetfire narrowed his gaze, he understood. "Good point." He pressed the cockpit down into the seeker's chest. A soft humming sound filled the room, causing both he and his comrade to look down at the seeker. Red optics flashed brilliantly before dimming down -- a sign of low energon levels. Ratchet stepped back as the seeker lurched forward with nullrays pointed towards them.
"If you're playing medic again, Skywarp," Starscream snarled in confusion. "Then you better run before I rip apart that inferior CPU of yours!"
Jetfire knelt beside the confused seeker. He placed a hand on the seeker's shoulder, and another on the nullray. The mech forcefully lowered the raised arm. "Starscream," he said. "Take it slow. There's no need to be starting a fight."
The seeker glared at the mech, before raising his good hand to his head. He half-closed his optics as he allowed his systems to reboot properly. "Get your sick autobot hands off of me!" he growled. He opened his optics as he noticed the presence of Ratchet. "And what the hell are you doing down here, auto-slag?"
"He's certainly happy when he wakes up," Ratchet remarked sarcastically. Kneeling in front of Starscream, he began to diagnose the new dents and loose wires hanging from his chest. "Do you know where you are, Starscream?" he asked harmlessly.
"Of course I know where I am!" the mech retorted.
"Mm?" Ratchet urged, trying to see if the seeker knew where he was.
"Hell," he muttered.
"What?" he asked.
"I said I'm in hell," he replied callously.
The medic looked towards Jetfire. "I think we should take him up to the medical bay," he suggested. "Think you can get him?"
Jetfire nodded. He wrapped his arms around a squirmy and resistant Starscream. "Starscream," he stated sternly. "Stop moving. You're only going to make this more difficult." Ignoring the disgusted growls coming from Starscream, the scientist heaved him onto his back. The seeker instantly quite his complaining as his feet dangled off the floor. The sharp claws dug into his side panels. He craned head as far back as it could go to see Starscream glaring at him.
"What?" he asked coldly. "I'm tired of being man-handled."
"That's what she said!" Ratchet said with a snicker.
Jetfire stifled a snicker as he began to walk. He winced as the mech's grip tightened.
"I don't get it," the seeker complained.
"You don't want to get it," Jetfire warned. With a grunt, he picked up the pace. He moved passed Ratchet as he entered the elevator. He slowly turned around, careful not to accidentally bash Starscream into the walls. As Ratchet entered the elevator, Jetfire felt a mild sense of claustrophobia. He looked up at the blah ceiling as the elevator took them to the main floor.
Ratchet tapped his foot against floor until the doors opened. Leading the way, he deliberately walked at a slower pace so that Jetfire could keep up. He was barely aware of the deep, threatening crackling that came from outside their base. "What your step," he stated, referring to the puddles of water.
"Okay," Jetfire replied weakly.
The medic took a sharp turn into his medical bay. The lights turned on at the movements of his presence. He moved out of the way as Jetfire came with Starscream in tow. He watched as the mech gently laid the seeker down on the white table. "Hey Jetfire," Ratchet said. "Why don't you watch Starscream while I go fetch him some energon."
Jetfire nodded, and watched as Ratchet left the room.
"How's it feel to be their lackey?" Starscream asked sourly.
The mech spun around to face the seeker. "What?" he asked.
Starscream sat in an upright position. "Let's be realistic here, Jetfire," he stated. "You're their lackey. I can see it all over your face. They've beaten the warrior out of you."
"I was never a warrior, Starscream," the autobot corrected. "I'm a scientist just like you."
The seeker recoiled at such a statement. "I would never be something so disposable," he retorted. "I am a warrior, and one of the greatest since, if not the greatest, since the beginning of our race." He raised his head in pride. "Just look at what I've accomplished since Megatron's disappearance!" He spread his arms out to exaggerate how big his accomplishments were.
"I don't see what you see," Jetfire confessed. "The only thing you've managed to accomplish is to lose everyone that cared about you." He moved forward, taking the seeker off guard. "Please, just a take a minute to look where you," he begged. The mech looked into the seeker's eyes, searching for any remorse that Starscream might have had. "You're going to end up losing everything if you keep heading down this path; including me, brother."
"You're not my brother," Starscream corrected harshly. "Thundercracker and Skywarp are my brothers, Skyfire."
Jetfire looked down at the ground. The sick feeling that there was knife cutting into his spark chamber came back. "There was time when you called me your brother," he reminded. He glanced up submissively. "And it was before you ever met those two metal heads. Please, brother, see the truth."
"I acknowledge the fact that we used to have a close relationship," he stated bitterly. "But that was before I realized my destiny."
"Your destiny?" he inquired.
"Yes," Starscream reinforced. "You see, it is my destiny to restore glory to Cybertron, and make her what Primus wanted her to be. It would only take someone like me -- someone who's vision won't become clouded with greed -- to make her the greatest planet to ever have been spawned." He paused, looking at old brother. It pained to see Jetfire being submissive, but he couldn't allow himself to show this emotion. No, he had to be strong at all times. "I wanted you to be part of my destiny, Skyfire," he added. "Together you and I could bring back this glory." He closed his fist as if to catch Cybertron's glory. "Just imagine it, Skyfire."
Jetfire shook his head. "You were always a dreamer, brother," he recalled. "And an ambitious one too." He took another step closer to Starscream. "And I always admired these traits about you," the mech added. "But now I believe these two traits will be the death of you, brother." Jetfire reached out and grabbed Starscream by the upper arm. "Please brother, I don't want to see you die -- you're the only family I have left ."
"Then join me!" he urged quietly. "Become my second-in-command, and help me bring down the autobots!"
"I cannot," he stated firmly.
"Why not?" the seeker asked hastily.
"Because I'm not a decepticon anymore," Jetfire stated.
"If you're afraid that they'll hear us," he whispered. "Then you can tell me over com-link."
"I'm autobot," he stated more firmly this time.
The seeker's optics wearily glanced up at the camera in the corner of the medical bay before flashing towards Jetfire. "You're just pretending to be one," Starscream whispered quickly. "You're still a decepticon. Your loyalty is to me -- Starscream."
He shook his head. There was so much Starscream didn't know. "No it's not, brother," Jetfire corrected in a hushed voice. "My loyalties are to Optimus Prime and his allegiance."
The tone of Jetfire's voice told the seeker he was not lying. Starscream shook Jetfire's hand off of his arm. "And when did you decide to switch sides?" he growled.
"The day I met Annabelle," Jetfire whispered.
"You mean that flesh bag?!" he asked through clenched dental plates. "How could you allow yourself to become so soft and corruptible by a human?"
Jetfire stepped back. He glanced at the door way, but didn't sense Ratchet's presence. "She's taught me a lot in that one day," he explained. "Including what it means to be innocent." He paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and put them into a logical order. "When I served under you, I only fought because I had too. I could have care less if I died. Most mornings I woke up wondering what my reason for fighting was." His optics kept traveling to the door way, expecting Ratchet to come back any moment. "But now I have a reason to fight, and that reason is Annabelle."
"So if Annabelle wasn't here," Starscream hypothesized, "Then you wouldn't have a reason to fight for the autobots?"
He shook his head again. "You don't understand," Jetfire stated. "I've studied her race, and come to learn that we are very much the same. Annabelle is my friend, and I fight to protect her; but I would also fight to protect her race. To destroy the human race would be a shame. Even though their lives are painfully short, we can learn so much from them. And watching her race gives me hope that perhaps someday, autobots and decepticons can live in relative peace."
"You're pathetic," he criticized.
"If you spend enough time around her, you'll begin to think the same way," Jetfire said.
"Never," the mech spat.
"Never what?" asked Ratchet.
Jetfire quickly turned his head to see Ratchet walking into the room. The medic held two different cylindrical steel containers -- one in each arm. "He says the autobots and decepticons will never be able to settle their differences," the scientist lied. He flicked his optics wearily at Starscream to keep their conversation a secret. "So what did you bring him?"
The medic set the black steel containers next to Starscream. "I have some high octane energon that we were able to produce at the near-by military nuclear power plant," he explained. He grabbed the said container, and opened it, exposing the fluorescent purple liquid to the artificial light. "Then I have some of Ironhide's special energon."
"You really think he needs an Ironhide dose?" Jetfire inquired.
"It's up to him if he wants to take it."
Starscream looked down at the unopened container. "What's in it?" he asked suspiciously.
Ratchet smiled. "That's a chef's secret," he explained. "But it's powerful enough that you'll fall into recharge within one or two breems. You should wake up fully refreshed, and feeling better than you have for a long time. So only drink it when you're ready to recharge." He whipped his head around to see Jetfire making a painful face. "What's wrong?"
Jetfire held a hand up to his head. "It's nothing," he dismissed. "Just a bit of a surge. You know how it is when the air is charged and you get just enough rust to make a bad connection." He took his hand away as the annoyance left him.
He nodded. "I hate it when that happens," Ratchet replied. "I love this planet, but we weren't design to live here long-term."
"I'll say," the autobot agreed.
CRAAAAAAACK!!!!!
All three metallic creatures looked upwards as the sound reverberated through the base.
"Wow," Ratchet said astonished. "This is a nasty storm."
His comrade nodded. "I think I'll call Ironhide to go pick up Annabelle and Sarah before this storm reaches their house," he informed. "I'll meet you back in the office."
Ratchet nodded. He let out a deep breath as Jetfire left the room. "Anything else you need explained?" he asked the seeker.
"I'm perfectly fine," he stated in a stoney voice.
The medic's made a small frown at the lack of gratitude, but he reminded himself he was dealing with one of the most arrogant sparks. He nodded, finding it the most polite action he could produce. Ratchet manually turned off the lights as he left the room.
Starscream leaned his sore back against the wall. Reaching down, he grabbed the high octane energon and it brought it to his mouth. The was taste was bitter sweet, but a welcome taste nonetheless. He continued to hold it in his hand, afraid that if he put it down it might disappear. With a lazy gaze of a contemplating leader, Starscream began to analyze what Jetfire had said. He felt ashamed for his so-called brother becoming tainted by the evil of the humans. With a sigh, he took another sip. "How could you Skyfire?" he muttered to himself. "And to a human?"
His face scrunched up in repulsion. The very thought was enough to make him nausious. The mech closed his optics. Did Skyfire had no shame? His free hand curled into a tight fist. Optimus would pay for corrupting his brother, and so would the human. The seeker leaned his head against the wall. 'But when you see the error of your ways, I'll welcome you back,' Starscream thought. 'Because that's what brothers do -- they forgive one another.'
