Disclaimer: Someday in the future…perhaps…by a virtually impossible chance…I will own. For now, however…D:

Edit: Please excuse any stupid mistakes you spot. This was proof-read in a day's time, and I didn't want to wait to go over it again. Sorry!

XV

"Come on, Screamer!" Skywarp whined, sending me an exaggerated, disturbing pout as he begged. "I'm dying here!"

"You're not dying as far as I can tell, Skywarp, so you will stand still and remain on your spot as you were instructed." I replied in a dry voice, not sparing him any more than an annoyed, sideways glance.

"But I need to slag some Autobots!" The purple nuisance actually stomped his peds like a sparkling, which was odd and startling to look at since he was bigger than me. "Why do the Fighter Jets get all the fun? It's not fair!" He wailed as though the fact that he was observing on the sidelines was physically harming him.

"Shut your vocalizer!" I finally snapped, hissing at him through gritted dentae. "The reason you are here with me and not with the Fighter Jets is because you belong to the Royal Trine! This assault is hardly important enough for my participation, which means you stay where I am: uninvolved." I sent him a full glare, though nothing seemed to deter my trine mate from whining to get his way.

"But Screamer—!" He stuck out his lower lip component and dared to scoot closer to me to nudge my wings, "Watching is so boring! I want in!"

"No." I sent out a short, curt huff through my vents, and turned away from him, crossing my arms.

"Starscream—!" Skywarp only whined louder. He made another grab for my wings, and I skidded away, jerking my appendages far from his fingers.

"Find someone else to bother!" I commanded, not that doing such made any difference. He did not heed my order at all, practically throwing himself on me and pawing at my wings in expression of his boredom.

"Starscreeeeeeam—! Pleeeeeease—! I'm really dying here!" My idiot of a trine mate latched onto me like a parasite, and proceeded to rub my wings in the most irritating manner possible, miserable, pathetic sounds accompanying his agitating of my sensitive flight sensors.

"Arrgh—Stop that!" I pushed and punched, but he was too close for me to do much damage, which only made me more frustrated. "What the frag is the matter with you?!" I smacked at his faceplate when he tried to nuzzle my neck cables in a mocking display of affection. I knew he was only doing such a thing to get on my nerve circuits so that I would finally become frazzled enough to send him away just to kick him out of my sight. "I'm ordering you to stand down!" I could hardly take any more of his downright ridiculous behaviour.

Skywarp only made a careless, spluttering sound.

"I'm a Decepticon. You can't order me." He sounded awfully pleased, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around my torso and leaning most of his weight against my frame.

I scowled, starting to get angry at his goading.

"Megatron himself said Seeker participation is unnecessary, you dolt!"

"And when do you ever listen to him?" Skywarp retorted, hanging onto me like an persistent leech. "…Don't tell me lil ol' Screamer's afraid of big ol' Megs!" He spoke with a nauseating coo, and I felt rather than saw him grin. His words froze me on the spot. I had never been more utterly unnerved and worried for his sanity in all my long vorns of knowing him than that moment.

My neural network prickled as a shiver ran through my frame, from tips of my wings to the bottoms of my thrusters. He must have been truly bored to an extreme degree, giving a mech like Megatron such a horrifying, downright inappropriate nickname.

"…Just don't make a mess of the Fighter Jets." I grumbled, and the purple slagger actually whooped as he jumped in the air, throwing his arms up with his loud exclamation of victory.

I was just glad he was no longer holding me.

"Yeah!" He cheered, and gave the air a swinging punch, optics glittering, "Those Autobots are gonna get their afts kicked so hard that they won't know their exhaust pipes from their mouths!" With such cry announcing his attack, he disappeared with a loud "pop", and left Thundercracker and I on the platform.

…With very disturbing, graphic imagery.

"I'm so disgusted that I can't even begin to think of an adequate description for his scale of stupidity." I croaked out, faceplate in a repulsed sneer, and tried in vain to rid my processors of such picture. Thundercracker laughed. He approached me from behind, walking closer. When he replied, his voice was surprisingly casual and light-sparked:

"I learned long ago to not take what he says too seriously, Star."

I let out a hum, and returned to watching the scene unfolding before my optics.

The Autobot top-security penal institution in the outskirts of Solre Apex was being burnt to the ground. A team of my Fighter Jets was deployed for the assault, shooting down Autobots from above, while a core unit of Decepticons broke into the facility. This marked the second Autobot city the Vosian-Decepticon alliance had attacked so far, though calling it a city was clearly an exaggeration. Solre Apex was little more than an oversized industrial sector built to keep the inmates busy. There were no civilians here, only guards and convicts.

A perfect place to recruit mechs suitable for the Decepticon cause.

The Autobots has yet presented any significant resistance. Their lack of resilience in Megatron's war was almost disappointing. They had good weapons, since not all brilliant minds in Iacon were peace lovers. However, without Prime, they were a directionless army, focus scattered. They were strong. They had great numbers. Some of them were even skilled, despite being ground pounders and Autobot, but they lacked a driving force to lead them in battle, and their morale was low. They were no match for the combined forces of Vos and Kaon.

I was mildly surprised, however, that the Autobots of Solre Apex had lasted this long without being forced to retreat. Their launchers were ineffective against fliers, and the group of grounders Megatron sent on this mission was unexpectedly well-trained and disciplined, for a bunch of gladiators that used to live in the gutters. Many Autobot security officers have already been deactivated, but the rest did not look like they were giving up any time soon.

The western quadrant of the prison facility blew up all of a sudden, the explosion bright and angry against the calm darkness of night cycle. The noise was audial-shattering. Flames consumed much of the buildings. Shadows of ground mechs could be seen scurrying around. Artillery fire was heard from all direction. Compared to general chaos, shouts and screams were quiet. However, the intensity behind them could be felt even from my perch a long distance away, high up and safe from gunfire.

The only reason I was overseeing the battle at all was for the new recruits. I had to make sure they were aware that Megatron was not the commander of our alliance. I was authority even though I would not be directly commanding them, and they needed to be made aware of such fact. I understood the necessity of this procedure, and, under normal circumstances, I would not mind showing a bunch of ground pounders their proper place at all. However, ever since the encounter with Megatron in that roofless room, I had been dreading this necessary but mundane ritual, because it meant I would be close to him, close to the mech I had whored myself to.

I sent a small glance to my left, where Megatron was standing with Soundwave by his side. The self-appointed Decepticon Supreme Commander was still, frame bathed under the flickering light from the battle below us. His optics held a slight glow, and the accompanying pressed lips told me that he was thinking about something. Primus knew what he was pondering over in his processors, though. I heaved a sigh through my vents. Even the fact that he was several wingspans away could not appease the pinching, tight sensation in my spark. My flight sensors caught every slow cycle of air from his intakes, and such stimuli agitated me.

He did not look over even when Skywarp made a spectacle of our trine. There was no way he could have missed our banter and Skywarp's blatant insubordination, but he made no indication of having noticed anything at all. His utter lack of reaction bothered me much more than I was willing to admit. I did not know whether to be glad he was leaving me alone or angered that he still had not apologized for kicking me out of his new base of operations in such an undignifying manner.

Megatron seemed pit-bent in pretending nothing had ever happened between us. This left me unsure, confused as to how to deal with him. He had yet spoken to me about anything other than war business, and his whole demeanor toward me was so cold and detached that I might as well have been speaking to an unfeeling drone. All our conversations since The Incident had been uncomfortable at best, during which long silences were the norm. Our first faceplate-to-faceplate conference, my ceremonial visit with my advisors to Kaon, had been so awkward that even Skywarp did not attempt to joke about it afterwards.

A hand touched my left wing, and I almost jumped, the gesture having startled me. My wings made such a violent jerk that Thundercracker, the perpetrator of the small rub, yelped and took a whole step back just to avoid being smacked in the faceplate. I swirled my helm around, and we were equally wide-opticked for a brief moment before my blue trine mate approached me again.

"I apologize. I did not mean to surprise you." He frowned slightly as he placed his hand onto the leading edge of my left wing, "You look very tense, Star." He squeezed a little, and slid his thumb over one of my flight sensors. Oh that felt good. I let out a soft sigh, optics offlining. My back arched, and my vents made another spluttering exhale before the tension in my joints began to ease. My right wing gave an inviting flick, and Thundercracker wrapped his other hand around its leading edge as well.

There was nothing quite like having your wings massaged by a trine mate, and Thundercracker was an exceptional massager. He knew all the right spots to rub to make a Seeker's knee joints weak, and applied just enough pressure on the wing tips to leave one's sensory network tingling with warmth and pleasure. It felt amazing, so I simply tilted my helm back, and enjoyed his attention. If any other flier were to touch me in such a manner, it would have been interpreted as the initiation for interface. Thundercracker was my trine mate, though, so he held special privileges. He could pull me into an entangled mess on his berth and I would have allowed it, unless I was not in an affectionate mood of course.

"What's on your mind?" He asked in a murmur as he slid his fingers along the bottom edges of my wings.

"The war," I answered with a bitter huff, "What else can possibly be on my mind these cycles?"

Thundercracker did not reply right away. He rubbed circles over the expanse of my wings with his palms, and gave the side edges small pinches.

"I can think of a few other things." His seemingly nonchalant comment made my joints seize up, to which he responded with soothing pats. Before he could ask further, however, a loud "whoop" of delight cut through the noise of battle. It distracted both Thundercracker and I, his administrations on my wings pausing while I tilted my helm, optics onlining to find out who had made that sound. A familiar purple and black jet shot across the sky, dropping explosives on the Autobot prison. I should have known. Skywarp's silliness truly knew no bounds. I sneered, vents huffing in annoyance, and Thundercracker laughed.

"I'm surprised you can find humour in the situation, Thundercracker," I chose to ignore my blue trine mate's original inquiry. "I thought you'd be horrified at what's happening down there." My chin gave a small jerk toward the fire and carnage.

Thundercracker's fingers hesitated. They hovered over my wing edges for a moment before resuming their kneading motions.

"Casualties are inevitable in war. I know at least that much," His voice was softer than before, but he sounded much calmer than I expected. "…They are Autobots, not civilians." His fingertips gently dipped into the seams of my wings, leaving light strokes against my neural sensors. I almost sagged against him, a breathy moan floating past my lips.

"The extent of your righteousness is not very far, is it, Thundercracker." I whispered, leaning back a little and offlining my optics. He might have tensed behind me, but he made no indication of having done so in his movements. We stood in silence, him servicing my wings and me enjoying his attention. Explosions continued to rage below us, sharp licks of flames against my plating.

The heat was growing more potent. It left a pleasant kind of warmth in my fuel lines. I could hear the rumbling engines of my Fighter Jets, a deep, background chorus to Skywarp's cackling as he shot his null rays. Frantic cries and bellowed curses mingled together into a loud cluster of discordant chords. This music was hardly kind on the audials, but, oddly enough, I liked it.

A prickling sensation crept up my wing joints. I frowned, not knowing what it was at first. Thundercracker noticed my increasing discomfort, so he quickly ran his fingers along my tense joints, making me sigh and flick my wings. However, the sensation refused to go away. Annoyed with its persistence, I reactivated my optics, and, following the pull of my spark, turned my helm. There, on my left, I spotted Megatron.

He was watching me.

My intakes made a small, hitching gasp, and my fingers clenched a little. I bit my lips, brow ridges knitting together, but my souring expression hardly deterred Megatron in his staring. In fact, he narrowed his optics, and studied me with even more scrutinizing interest. I quickly realized that he was not quite looking at me, but rather, he was studying the way Thundercracker was massaging my wings. I did not want him to look. My left wing twitched upward, and Thundercracker paused. Megatron's optics flashed as they met mine, and I scowled at him, intakes uttering a low hiss.

Thundercracker's hands hovered over my wings for a while. He seemed to realize we had an audience, undoubtedly following the direction my helm was inclined toward. He pressed his palms against the surface of my wings for one last stroke before he stepped back, heeding my silent command that our little massage session was over. My blue trine mate returned to my right wing, and I gave him a small wave with my appendages in silent acknowledgement of his service. Aside from that, however, my entire attention was zeroed in on the ground pounder a fair distance away, who still had the audacity to be looking at me with an almost curious expression on his faceplate.

I glared at Megatron, gritting my dentae and slitting my optics. My wings perked up higher on my back, prideful and arrogant, and he glanced over at them, making me bristle. I wanted nothing more than to jump off the overhanging cliff and fly away just to stop his blatant staring. My wings were not for his viewing pleasure. Just knowing he still dared to claim me with his gaze made my tank churn with disgust.

Megatron's optics returned to my faceplate. What little expression he had was gone, replaced by aloof composure. I glared him down over my nose bridge in silent challenge for him to speak, but he only stared at me a little longer before turning away to examine the battlefield below us. The slagger. I let out a sharp huff, and snapped my helm away as well. I was not here for him to gawk at.

A low, shuddering sound of heavy machinery reached my audials, and I followed it with a tilt of my helm. Large hovercrafts bearing the Autobot insignia were taking off, separating from the prison facilities engulfed by flames. The Autobots were finally giving up. They were retreating, leaving the prisoners to Decepticon command. Our mission was a success, but I hardly felt any joy of victory. There was little for me to gain here. Little, of anything at all.

The hovercrafts lifted higher from the ground, and, with a loud roar of its big engines, flew away in vague direction of Praxus. The Fighter Jets did not pursue them, as I had not instructed them to, and slowly returned to their formation to begin surveying the area for Autobot survivors. Skywarp danced around them for a while before disappearing with a "pop". Less than a klik later, he reappeared right in front of us, a grin so wide that it almost split his faceplate in half.

"That kicked aft!" My purple trine mate exclaimed as he landed, optics glittering and laughter bursting out through his lips. "I can't believe you two just stood here and watched while I had all the fun, not that I'm really complaining." He said as he practically hopped toward us, giddy on his peds. "I bet I'm gonna get promoted in the Decepticon ranks real soon!" He announced with a swing of his arms, and I lifted a brow ridge, wondering if this idiotic trine mate of mine was trying to make suggestions at the Decepticon commander several wing spans away.

Probably not. Skywarp looked to be honestly oblivious to how loud he was being, so I brushed it off as him being his usual careless self.

"What are you going to get promoted to, Skywarp?" I crossed my arms over my chassis, "Resident moron?" I drawled with a mocking smirk, and he made a face.

"Why do you have to be such a little glitch all the time, Screamer?" He curled his lips, genuinely offended. "I was in such a good mood too, and you just had to ruin it."

"Watch your vocalizer, Seeker," My smirk fell into a sneer, voice gaining a threatening tinge. "Remember who let you have your fun."

"What the frag's the matter with you?" Skywarp tossed me a pointed glance, and shook his helm as he walked to Thundercracker. The two of them immediately went into happy chattering, and I pressed my lips together, watching their antics with displeasure.

There was nothing for Skywarp to be proud of. After all, shooting down Autobots was what he was supposed to do, the bare minimum requirement. And what was so great about accomplishing that?

My attention was diverted from my trine mates when the Fighter Jets completed their patrol and started to approach me. My soldiers were in perfect formation, not a single wingtip out of place as they flew, transforming in unison before reaching a hover. Their general floated closer, an aged flier whose vorns of existence rarely showed. He bowed as soon as he reached appropriate proximity to do so, and placed his right hand over his spark.

"Bladeflight reporting, Sire," He announced, "All hail Prince Starscream."

"Rise," I nodded, and waited for the jet to straighten. "What is the status of the prison facilities?"

"Demolished, your Highness, as you instructed," Bladeflight stood in attention as he explained, keeping still in the air. "No Autobot remains functioning. The Decepticon unit has secured the weaponry chamber, and the prisoners are in the process of being freed and inducted into Decepticon ranks."

"Good," I praised my Fighter Jet general, who made another bow, before glancing over at Megatron and Soundwave. The telepath was intoning one thing or another, and Megatron was listening, nodding curtly every once in a while. The Decepticon unit must have been making their own reports.

Noticing Bladeflight waiting for my address, I turned back to face him.

"There are no further orders at this time. However, be stationed and remain alert."

"Affirmative, your Highness." Bladeflight replied with a small, downward jerk of his helm.

"I doubt we will stay here for long, so be ready to return to Vos. Refuel if you must. Patrol the area again if you think it necessary."

"Affirmative, Sire."

"Good work, Bladeflight." I gave my general a polite, but honest smile. "You are dismissed."

"My gratitude, Prince Starscream. Long live Vos!" Bladeflight bowed once again before turning away, a flick of his wings signaling his soldiers to follow him in formation. Their sailed downward, a graceful glide heading for lower terrain. Their descent led my optics to the cliff-face, and that was when I first noticed them, a small group of grounders making their way to the platform Megatron and I were standing on.

Two of them belonged to the unit of Decepticons that attacked the prison facilities. I only recognized Blitzwing, his intriguing status as a triple-changer marking him amongst the faceless grounders of Megatron's army. They were leading a third mech up the slope, and I had to crane my neck cables to catch glimpses of him. Due to the shadows, I could not see the mech's entire frame, but he was clearly a prisoner, the shabby state of his plating worse than even those of gutter dwellers. However, what really caught my attention was the way he walked.

He had a limp, but his posture was distinctly different from the way gladiators and criminals carried themselves. His movements held a composed quality, indicating that he once belonged to an institution of class. Though incomparable to that of a flier, he was rather lithe. He was not very tall, at most average for a ground pounder, a common height for those in academic professions.

I frowned.

What was a mech like him doing in a cell?

I was not the only one watching the small group. Megatron and Soundwave had gone silent, optics and visor following the trio's approach. Thundercracker and Skywarp had stopped their chattering as well, undoubtedly curious as I was about the identity of the mystery mech. All prisoners were brought before Megatron, but it was always done as a collective whole. This meant that this mech had to be special, in a manner more important than just his way of walking.

"Who have you brought me, Blitzwing?" Megatron asked, looking at the mystery mech. I cursed his broad back as it blocked my view, prompting me to have to walk over.

"Uhh," Blitzwing stepped aside, and one of the mystery mech's shoulders was revealed. "He didn't really introduce himself, boss, but he was the only one in the maximum security cells, so we kinda figured he was important. He wanted to speak to you, so we brought him over here."

Megatron did not reply, but unclasped his hands from behind his back. He turned on his peds, and spoke directly to the grounder still frustratingly out of my optical range.

"State your designation, prisoner." Megatron ordered just as I stepped around his bulky frame.

"Designation Shockwave, sir," A single, yellow optic flashed on a helm without a faceplate, "I am honoured, truly, to have finally met the one leading the revolution that has been long overdue to come."

I almost balked, gaping at him with lips falling apart in no small amount of surprise.

"Shock-…wave…?!" I blurted out, staring at the mech, who turned toward me and stared back with his unnerving, single optic.

This could not be Shockwave.

I felt a shiver prickle over the sensory network of my wings.

I knew Shockwave, not personally, but enough to know that this…monstrosity of a Cybertronian could not be him.

Shockwave was one of the frontier scientists who worked and taught at the Iaconian Academy of Science. I never had him as an instructor, but Skyfire had attended his classes and enjoyed them. Shockwave was not a social mech, so I only saw him a handful of times throughout my metas at the Academy. From what I knew, there was nothing impressive about him. His work was dull and uninspired, and he often blended into the wall. However, he was undeniably well-learnt, an intelligent scientist with sharp processors. I had gotten wind of him dabbling in politics, but I certainly never saw him in any conferences, so I was inclined to dismiss such allegations as rumours.

I did not know Shockwave well, but this deformed freak without a face could not have been him.

"…Prince Starscream," A note of recognition emerged from this imposter's voice, his single optic flaring brighter. "Greetings." He nodded amiably, and I felt my wings give a violent shudder. I did not reply, fighting the urge to take a step back. I looked over the rest of his form, and felt my lips sneer to mask my utter repulsion.

There was hardly any place on his body untouched by rust and filth. I could hardly tell what colours made up his original paintjob. Burn marks littered across his frame, suggesting that this mech had been tortured during his stay in the Autobot prison. Parts of his plating were clipped and torn right off, exposing inner circuitry. He was missing a hand altogether, loose wires and cables dangling from his wrist, sometimes sparking at the severed ends. The flat box of a helm dipped to one side as he waited for me to finish studying him. The yellow optic seemed to blink at me, and the almost coy gesture made my spark twist with discomfort.

Everyone was watching us with varying degrees of interest. Megatron was closet to me, tilting forward as he tried to meet my optics with a questioning stare. I could see him on my peripheral, but I could not tear my gaze away from this delusional mech in front of me, claiming to be Shockwave. This imposter even pretended to know me, even when it was clear that I harboured nothing but suspicion toward him.

"I have never had the pleasure of teaching you at the Academy, I'm afraid." He continued to speak when I refused to respond to him. "It's a shame, really." He blinked again, then blurted out, "I have read some of your essays, however. They are quite remarkable."

Perhaps he was trying to lighten the mood, but I could not be sure. His tone, despite carrying lilting fluctuations, was emotionless and cold, as if he was imitating how one spoke rather than speaking. There was something extremely uncanny about him, something that made me anxious. I wondered, with a nervous spark, just how much of his deformity was unseen, hidden behind this facade of a broken mech.

The silence grew heavy. Blitzwing and his companion shared a worried glance, shuffling on their peds. Megatron was still watching me, as was Soundwave. I could not see my trine mates, but I ventured a guess they were glancing between the imposter and I.

The mech's single optic made another small flash, and his helm jerked a little, as though he had just remembered something.

"By the way, your Highness," He asked, voice light and offhanded, "How is Skyfire doing?"

My spark froze. My joints tensed. My jaws grew tight as I bit my dentae, and I pulled my wing joints tight to stop my appendages from expressing the jolt inside my chassis. I heard Thundercracker's intakes hitch to a stop, and felt Skywarp shift on his thrusters. I did not know when I had clenched my hands into fists, but my fingertips were digging into my palms. They ached a little.

"I enjoyed teaching Skyfire immensely," The mech dared to continue, talking in an airy tone. "He scored highest in my class."

The silence grew heavier.

"You went on the space expedition with him, didn't you?" The yellow optic brightened further, a ghastly glow on a faceless helm. "I believe I wrote his letter of recommendation to the Director of the Academy. It was such a long time ago I can hardly remember…"

There was the pretense of a fond glimmer, a warm note frosted over emotionless words.

"I was arrested before you two came back." He paused. "I would love to read the reports from your expedition, though, if either of you still have a copy."

He stood still on his peds, much too still for a mech broken out of a torture chamber.

"Speaking of the expedition, Skyfire was very excited about it, even more so than I had anticipated." He might have been thoughtful, but the intonation became muddy where imitation reached its limit. "I was under the impression that he was planning something, but he was very mysterious."

That single optic, protruding from a mass of blackened parts and twisting wires, stared right into mine.

"Might you know what it was?"

I felt sick.

My spark squeezed in my spark chamber, and I could no longer think, or rein in the churning grinding my insides.

I felt so ill, processors a storm of dizzying, swirling thoughts. Pain stabbed into my core, boiling my fuel lines, and the energon within them became sizzling hot. My vents had frozen. My intakes stopped. My internal temperature surged to erratic heights, and I began to tremble, no longer capable of controlling the shuddering in my limbs. My fuel tank suddenly made an especially alarming, agonizing pinch, and, like an eruption of currents, I felt energon hit the back of my throat.

A spluttering, choked back cry left my vocalizer as I abruptly bent over, stumbling to the side. I tripped on my thruster heels, and almost fell faceplate first into the ground before a pair of arms caught me. With a violent heave, I purged my tank, consumed energon splattering against my palm and dripping through the cracks between my fingers. Warnings blared in my processors. I was overheating. However, I could no longer regulate my systems, vision blurry and unfocused.

I retched until there was nothing left in my tank, kneeling on the ground, wings rattling on my back.

Thundercracker's voice eventually reached my audials. He was speaking to me, but I could not process his words. I slowly realized that it was him who had caught me before I could fall. He was kneeling next to me, holding me close and rubbing my wing joints even though the puddle of energon I threw up reached his knees. I knew Skywarp was shouting in the background, but I could not make sense of it, unable to care what he was yelling about.

All I could hear was what Shockwave had said. There was no question now, no doubt in my spark that this atrocious mech was indeed Shockwave. I might have wondered what had happened to him that made him the way he was, but I did not having enough strength, enough will to rip my thoughts away from the question he had asked me.

I knew why Skyfire had been so excited.

I did not find out until I came back to Cybertron, a frantic mess of a Seeker.

I had searched that blue planet for almost a whole stellar-cycle, trying to find him after he had crashed.

I looked everywhere.

I scoured the sky. I walked the land. I scanned every ocean with all sensors tuned to their topmost sensitivity, and started the search all over again.

I did not stop searching until I barely had enough energon left to make my way back home. When I did, I threw away all my duties, and dedicated every ounce of power I had to gathering a search party for my Skyfire. I bought the best equipments. I rented the fastest, most advanced space craft. I recruited the best mechs for the job, abusing political privilege without second thought when they were needed elsewhere. My whole city was practically in shut down as I flew about aimlessly like a helmless drone, pushing the limits of my frame because the wind was the only thing that could offer me a sliver of comfort.

The night cycle before my search team was to leave Cybertron, I went to Skyfire's recharge chamber. He had a suite in my tower, and another with his family unit, but his most frequented room had been the one in Iacon, in the apartment we were renting together. I could not recharge, so I visited his room. I sat on his berth, and stumbled upon a data pad hidden inside a compartment I had never noticed prior to that night.

I knew why Skyfire had been so excited about the space expedition.

He had planned on asking me to bond with him, complete our engagement, on the last planet we would visit.

Everything was on that data pad. All the plans he had made, all the designations of mechs he wanted to invite to our bonding ceremony in Vos: they were all there. He had even wanted to invite ground pounders he'd befriended at the Academy to the ceremony. He probably thought that I would definitely give them clearance after a little convincing on his part, and he was right.

I would.

…And as I held that data pad, there was only one thought in my processors.

Skyfire was gone.

There was no possibility of him having survived that horrible, horrible storm.

I had searched everywhere, once, twice, thrice, and still had not found any traces of him.

Skyfire was gone, and there was not even a wing tip left of him for me to keep.

…

…Voices…

…began reaching my audials.

I could still hear Thundercracker, being the closest, murmuring words of comfort and concern. Skywarp sounded angry, but he was no longer shouting. Someone was asking him questions, a deep, rough, commanding voice – one that I knew. However, every time I tried to remember who it belonged to, my spark would clench, and the pain, made worse by flashes of memory files, would become unbearable.

Another voice was speaking as well, emotionless yet full of lilts and expression. Hearing it made my tank protest in aching discomfort, which was why I was glad when Skywarp snarled, interrupting that voice. The sound of stomping thruster heels followed, and another pair of arms joined the first, wrapping around me. They carefully lifted me back onto my peds before leading me toward the edge of the platform. We stepped over the cliff, and I vaguely wondered if I should activate my thrusters.

I quickly realized that I was floating in the air without them. I allowed the arms to guide me into the sky, and deactivated my optics.

Thundercracker was speaking to someone, who sounded curt but respectful, before talking over my helm. He then abruptly let me go, and I panicked, optics onlining in a flash as I clutched at the arms still keeping me in the air. Snapping my helm to my left, I saw Skywarp, who was supporting my weight while Thundercracker floated to his other side. "It's okay, Star. I got you." My purple trine mate said with a smile, but I only looked away, not knowing why he did not seem to mind that I was smearing consumed energon all over his chassis.

"Got it, TC?" He asked, and Thundercracker replied with an affirmative. I could sense Skywarp activating his teleportation sequence, when a compulsion to look back at the platform gripped me with such a force that my joins seized.

My optics met Megatron's for barely a klik before my surroundings darkened and faded away. However, even so, I saw it, something different about him.

There was an expression I had never found on his faceplate before. His optics still shined brighter than the inferno burning the Autobot prison to the ground, but their glow was unfamiliar, unlike any other time I had ever seen.

I did not have the time to study him further. With a "pop", my trine mates and I warped back to my recharge chambers in Vos. They moved me to my berth, and settled me onto it with great care. They were exchanging worried glances, speaking softly to each other, but I only watched. Thundercracker took out a piece of cloth from his subspace, trying to wipe at my lips, but that gesture bothered me, so I turned my faceplate away, and let out a protesting whine.

"…It's a different cloth, Star," Thundercracker looked almost flustered. However, upon hearing his statement, I allowed him to dab me clean.

"What are you talking about?" Skywarp asked, a frown of confusion on his faceplate. Thundercracker did not reply, and only shook his helm.

After I was cleaned, my trine mates stood to leave. I grabbed their hands, a sharp gasp leaving my intakes as I stopped them. After a moment of deliberation, Skywarp lied down on the berth beside me. Thundercracker gently pried my fingers off from his arm, and rubbed my wing when I refused to let go of his hand.

"I need to comm. someone and take care of a few things, but I will be back," He explained, smile warm but a little sad. "Skywarp will stay with you, so don't worry." His palm was warm, wrapping around the side of my faceplate. "You're not alone, Star." He promised, "You have us." He spoke with reassurance, though I did not understand why he said such a thing.

"…Does…he know…?" I asked.

There was only one worry in my processors.

"…Who?" Thundercracker frowned, sending Skywarp an inquiring look. Skywarp's optics did not meet him. They were on mine instead, carrying an uncharacteristic weight that I would have never associated with their bearer.

Skywarp seemed to know something Thundercracker did not, and that frightened me, just a little, because Thundercracker had always been the more perceptive one in our trine.

"He doesn't," Skywarp spoke, gaze unwavering and voice stark. "He asked, but I didn't tell him." He paused a little, and, thankfully, his startling expression split into a smile. "I won't tell him anything."

I nodded once, and sighed through my vents.

Good.

That was good.

"You should rest now," Thundercracker said. "You've been looking like you haven't been getting enough recharge again." He leaned away, so I scooted closer to Skywarp, and offlined my optics.

My trine mates exchanged a few more words. Their meanings were lost to me.

I fell into recharge. The last image file I saw as my processors shut down was of Megatron, watching me from that platform with the strange, unreadable expression.

I did not know why, but it made me feel a little better.

Notes: I love being healthy. What I couldn't do in a month I did it in a day, haha!

I'm very sorry for the month-long wait between updates. I caught the flu, and then, just as I was getting better, I caught a cold. I wish I can now promise a quicker updating schedule, but, with school picking up, I don't know if I can. Please be patient with me. I promise to try my best!

Special thanks time once again to my reviewers! You guys really make my day, especially while I was feeling sick. To: 6MissSparklez9, lildevchick, Sneefee (I still can't believe you drew me a picture – thanks so much!), The-writing-Mew, DragonsOnMoon, Starcee138, Ashcola17, rj545, Deathtomushrooms, Koluno1986, cjade, Pandablubb, cerebral-mess, Tolaya, The Happy Shark, Guest, tiedwithribbons, Luxie14, KrazyMusician, riah riddle, moonlightnight1, Rendianami, aki. vn, loverofmythology, Supermoi, len, CloudKitsune17, InfiniteR, MalevolentMask, Delition, Devlinn Reiko, IAmSilversky, Skylark Starflower, DemonFoxGirl1000,and Ebony Kain, thank you so much for leaving me a few words!

Oh, and just a note:

Anonymous Reviewers: Just in case you were not aware of this before, I am unable to reply to your reviews. However, please know that I appreciate your comments greatly, and read them with much happiness. :)

Signed Reviewers: I've noticed that I sometimes receive comments that have a screen-name, and this worries me a little because I keep thinking that perhaps you're expecting to hear back from me. I cannot reply to you if you haven't logged in, or if you'd disabled your PM feature. If you've been wondering why I've been neglecting you, one of the above reasons might explain it. XD

Hmm, now, this chapter…It's really more-or-less a bridge. While introducing Shockwave! I'm actually quite fond of Shockwave. Starscream's views do not express my own, so please don't misunderstand! Next chapter, on the other hand, ohhhh it'll be all sorts of exciting. It's the prelude to a very important change in the story, and just to tease you further, I'll leave you a hint:

The next chapter will involve one of the most significant events in the course of this war, one that will lead to a shift of power unprecedented in the history of Cybertron.

Now live in anticipation.

;)

Review, please?