A/N: Oh yeah...I've been on a roll lately. So just an FYI: The next couple of chapters will be very dialogue-heavy, but a good bit is going to be discussed, clarified, and to an extent foreshadowed. So, if you crave the action sequences, please bear with me. My intent is to set the stage for our climatic battle with the antagonist and it is not my desire to rush character development or character interactions. I'm also trying to polish my skills in developing likeable, believable OCs in a fandom that has been historically harsh towards such creations. Meh. You don't get better by sticking to the status quo, right? Right. But in the end, this is all for fun and personal enjoyment. Hope you guys are enjoying reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Chapter 21: Reparations

They spent a couple hours catching up. While Stinger avoided discussing the "finer" details of his imprisonment, he more than made up for his lack of specifics by grilling Maria on her misadventures since that fateful night. And she happily obliged.

The conversation did the pilot a world of good. Not only was his daughter alive and unharmed, but she seemed a completely different person than the reticent, sullen teenager he had agreed to try and raise not that long ago. She was vibrant and radiant, smiling and laughing. It was such a change that he could scarcely dare to believe it.

He listened with rapt attention as she described her first escape, aided by "Lt. Prawsky", how she learned the lieutenant's true identity and her first impressions with the Seekers. He hated the fact that she had met all three of them in such dire circumstances, but also silently commended her for her resilience in the face of such an extreme challenge to what had been her known reality. She further explained how and why she came to know the Autobots, her friendship with Carly, Spike, and Inferno.

He tensed noticeably as the conversation turned a little darker, as she described the two government officials who had tricked the Autobots into handing her over on the pretense of reuniting her with him (albeit in a twisted way). His respect for the Autobot Inferno multiplied ten-fold when Maria told him how the fire engine had used his own devious creativity to relay a message to the Seekers that his daughter was in a precarious position once more. He silently thanked Starscream a thousand times over for letting Skywarp intervene once more.

A higher Providence had seen her safely through her experience with the Decepticon warlord, that and perhaps some rough combination of luck and good timing to boot. His daughter, his teenage spitfire had faced Megatron and came out on the other side! Her voice lowered once more as she detailed what Megatron had said to Skywarp and ultimately why they were there with the Autobots now.

"So, the Trine? They aren't with Megatron anymore?" he asked softly, pushing a strand of errant blonde hair behind her ear.

"No, at least I don't think so. Well, Starscream and TC had been beaten up pretty good by the time Warp arrived with me. I'm certain I would have died and he would have gotten the same treatment too, had not Megatron been so focused on retaliating against the US and this Doom guy."

Stinger's eyes hardened at the despot's name, but he didn't comment. Although he'd known of Doom's involvement from Castlehoff's own confession, he was still more than a little flabbergasted at the ousting of the Trine. That had huge ramifications...for him, for the military, for the Autobots...everyone. It also meant those three dogs of war were no longer leashed…

"Well, if you and Carla don't mind," the teen began, casting a small smile over to Carla, who wasn't that far away and had been listening quietly, "I'm going to go grab some food. Would you like anything?"

"A beer," he quipped with a smirk.

"Ah-Ep-Ep! No alcoholic beverages while recovering here!" Ratchet's disembodied voice piped up from across the bay, "I will not have your recovery sabotaged by metabolizing depressive, useless substances!"

"Well, it was worth a shot. I figured it was the only other thing more depressive than that Doc Bot's attitude," Stinger jabbed unabashedly.

"Keep it up small fry, and I'll push your release date back even further!"

"See? I've traded one prison for another!"

A slew of angry Cybertronian muttering followed. Maria and Stinger laughed quietly. "Fine. I reckon a glass of water will do."

Once Maria had left, the silence of the med bay settled like a thick feather blanket. The dull hum of machinery provided a lulling background noise. If he allowed his imagination a little bit of rein, he could almost pretend it was the thrumming of turbine engines. Jet engines. Jets.

Skywarp.

Thoughts of the black Seeker flooded in like a tidal wave, leaving him awash in a furious sea of conflicting emotion. Everything Castlehoff accused him of rushed to the forefront. It left him feeling angry, bitter, and wretched. Was he truly a traitor to his people?

The question was ugly, twisted and painful; however, the answer to such a quandary was equally complex, prickly and just as convoluted. For every bad memory and experience with the Decepticons, ergo the Seekers, a good memory would counter his thoughts. He did remember the destruction and the chaos of Decepticon attacks; he had lost many friends as a result of such actions. It was all too easy to use the Decepticon emblem as a shield to give their enemy a faceless embodiment of evil. It was so much easier to hate something when you could dehumanize it, make it faceless...monstrous.

But that was the problem wasn't it? The enemy was no longer faceless, robotic alien automatons. Skywarp, Thundercracker, even Starscream were real, live, feeling, emotional beings. Soldiers in a war that predated human history and beyond. He'd only been involved in the Decepticon/Autobot conflict since its onset on Earth, and before that a few brief stints in the Middle East. Up until the Latverian Fiasco, his wartime experience had been next to nil. He couldn't fathom a war lasting for millions of years. What kind of effect would that have on someone?

From the beginning of their war on Earth, he had been told to hate them, despise them, fear them, terminate them...and he had initially. But that all changed in Latveria with Skywarp. Stinger had seen a side of the Decepticons that no human had ever witnessed, had accomplished things with him, with his wingmates, that derailed the rhetoric.

The conversation with his daughter added new complexities to his already turbulent mind. The black Seeker had more than shown his willingness to protect her, safeguard her...for his sake. A wartime enemy didn't do that. For fuck's sake, even some friends wouldn't go that far. And not only that, but the entire Trine had been kicked to the wayside for that one little deviation from Decepticon protocol?

The turbulence abated. The storming thoughts of doubt dissipating. His anger and bitterness easing. Even now, he knew that Starscream was negotiating with the Prime for some tacit form of truce. That in and of itself spoke volumes of the changes that had occurred. And now that he really thought about it, these were changes that had been seeded since he was first shot down.

The Seekers had always managed to "avoid" his squadrons. He had never lost a man as a result of direct conflict with them. His daughter had been introduced and then subsequently protected by them, and finally Skywarp had come through and put an end to Castlehoff's machinations and pulled not only his, but Carla's, irons out of the fire too. And now it appeared as if the Trine were at least going to attempt to put aside millions of years of differences and work with the Autobots to subdue the greater enemy: Doom.

If that wasn't a testament to change, he didn't know what was. And that thought obliterated the remaining doubt his former leader had planted. Castlehoff's words dissipated like mist before the sun. War changed things. War changed you fundamentally.

He knew that many in his race would still consider him a traitor for working with the Decepticons, but he could no longer bring himself to care. He was reunited with his family as a result of that traitorous friendship. And even now, the Decepticons were without their three best air support fighters, again a consequence of their happen-stance meeting from seven years ago. The fact of the matter was he couldn't see Warp or TC or Screamer as enemies anymore.

The faceless monstrosities Castlehoff wanted to conjure and swamp his conscience were replaced with warm, red optics, snarky attitudes, sarcastic wit, and unexpected actions. Actions that would not normally ever be associated with the Cons.

He owed Skywarp. Owed all three of them really. His life, his family. To put it bluntly he owed them a lot.

As it so happened, Maria was conveniently making her return. His daughter stepped up the ladder nimbly, a satchel thrown over one shoulder. She walked briskly to his bedside and withdrew a cold bottle of spring water.

"Here ya go," she chirped as she handed him the bottle.

Stinger adjusted himself stiffly, trying to sit up as best he could. His ribcage and collarbone felt as if it were on fire, but Ratchet had warned that the cellular regeneration solution may create some discomfort as the bones and tissues knitted together faster than the normal rate. Ratchet had also told him absolutely no walking for at least another 24 hours. Well, he'd never really been one to follow doctors' orders.

"Thanks, girlie," he replied, taking the bottle and emptying a good three-quarters of it in one go. He gave a deep sigh of satisfaction before asking, "Warp and TC haven't made it back yet, have they?"

"No, not yet. Why?" cocking her head curiously.

He grunted noncommittally. "I really just need to talk to him, ya know? Gettin' antsy." He paused. "Say, you wouldn't want to do your old man a favor and run some interference for me, would ya?"

"Interference?" she repeated, confused. "You mean, like a distraction? You don't mean-" she glanced around the med bay and her eyes found Ratchet tinkering down at the far end, conveniently the end closest to the exit, "to get by Ratchet!?" she ended in a furious whisper.

The sparkle in his grey eyes was all the answer she needed.

"Are you serious!?" she hissed. "Ratchet would totally skin me alive if I helped you walk up outta here! Not to mention you are only just now healing after weeks of abuse! Dad, are you crazy!?"

Much to Maria's chagrin, some questions were best left unanswered.

Fifteen minutes later found Stinger walking tenderly down the corridor and away from the medbay. That goddamn ladder had been a pain in the ass, but ultimately he'd made it down to ground level without attracting Ratchet's attention.

The cantankerous Doc Bot had fixated on a component rebuild that he was currently showing to Maria, walking her through all the various steps and processes necessary before it could be re-integrated into a mech's chassis. Sure she had been reluctant to help him "escape" but damn if she hadn't perfected the art of diversion well enough! She'd definitely been hanging around Decepticons for too long.

Now out of the med bay and away from Ratchet's hawkish glare, he focused on getting outside. Hell, he'd not been in the open air for so long, he damn near forgot what sunshine and wind even felt like.

The Autobot guard at the entrance was a bit reluctant to let him pass, especially as his optics lingered on the multitude of bandages that compressed his torso, but Stinger would not be deterred. After several assurances and maybe a few lies that he did indeed have Ratchet's blessing (better to ask forgiveness than permission) the weary pilot finally stepped out into a world awash in golden sunlight.

The sun had begun to set and it's light contained rich gold elements that bathed the landscape in a warm glow. Rabbit brush and sparse grasses swayed gently on a breeze; the sharp scent of sage wafted up to his nose and he breathed it in deeply, savoring its clean, herbal smell. Sandstone rocks became bathed in a warm red hue and the clouds above darkened into purple and blue streaks. The Ark turned from dingy orange into a vibrant burnt bronze as the sun trekked lower and lower. And high above weaving in and out of the bruised patches of condensation were two F-15 Eagles.

Stinger planted himself on a rock just outside the entrance and winced at the new position. While he didn't feel nearly as beat-up as everyone said he had been, certain movements tended to remind him just how serious his injuries had been. However, the pang of discomfort he felt now and any amount of Ratchet's wrath that was sure to come later, was well worth the seat to the show he had at present.

High above the roar of turbine engines filled the air. Bright streaks of reflected light glinted off the golden canopies as each jet lazily barrel-rolled across the heavens. Occasionally vivid vortices trailed from the tips of the wings, and with the dying sunlight, the air disturbances appeared to be molten trails of vaporous gold. The two jets had separated and were now approaching each other at terrifying speed. They were nearly hitting the sound barrier. Even from this distance, Stinger could see the condensation cone building off each of their nosecones; however, the thunderous rupture never occurred.

The human pilot watched, transfixed as Skywarp inverted himself and flew to within inches of brushing Thundercracker's canopy as each jet shot past the other. Not even the Blue Angels could have executed that move as precisely as the two Decepticons. The two jets barrel-rolled simultaneously, but arced in opposite directions only to turn wide and make their way toward each other once more. Once again a collision appeared imminent only for Thundercracker to roll abruptly 180 degrees, wingtips now perpendicular to the ground. Skywarp matched him move for move. The two jets once more flew past each other, fuselages nearly grazing. They tightened their respective turns and then came together in a vertical spiral. The two Seekers rolled in sync as they entered a vertical climb, performing a feat that was near impossible for human pilots and a human-built F-15. At the pinnacle of the climb, Thundercracker flipped back over his vertical axis and proceeded to dive towards the ground in a maneuver he recognized as a free fall drop. Skywarp hit his pinnacle at the same time, but nosed over until his wings were parallel with the ground; however, rather than nose down as Thundercracker did, Skywarp entered a flat stall, spinning around and around even as his wings remained parallel.

Stinger sat in awe. The F-15 was a very capable aircraft, but he knew that no human or Earth-made machine could match the maneuvers he was witnessing. To this day he still wondered how in the hell he had lasted not just one, but several dogfights with these two. On that thought it occurred to him that he had never had the opportunity to view the Seekers flying so candidly. Studying their maneuvers and doctrine had always occurred third-hand, either via shaky eye-witness cell phone videos, or the partially-better-but harder-to-come-by military drone footage. Any first hand experiences and he'd been more preoccupied with executing his own aerial acrobatics rather than studying his opponents'. Sitting there now, a warm desert breeze caressing his cheek while observing the two jets, Stinger knew he was witnessing something rare and special, something not normally observed by human (or for that matter Autobot) eyes.

As the dusk deepened, Skywarp continued his stall until he finally decided to adjust his attitude and enter a nose down dive. With about 1,000 feet of altitude left, the black jet teleported and then reappeared right back at the same altitude from which he entered his stall. He executed a few more lazy rolls before Thundercracker came up and drew parallel with his right-side wing. The two jets flew in formation for about a minute more, before they each broke off, banking hard in opposite directions and diving down towards the desert floor.

Both Seekers transformed and landed gracefully on the ground, thrustered pedes creating clouds of dust and grit that swirled up and around their frames. They clenched forearms and gave each other a brief, brotherly embrace before turning to the Ark.

Stinger observed Skywarp hesitate ever so briefly before resuming pace with Thundercracker. As they approached, the pilot could feel the vibrations of their steps in the earth and under the rock upon which he sat. No matter how many times he saw them, any of them, he always felt humbled and awed by their sheer size. In retrospect, it defined his relationship with the Seekers even more sharply. These sentient war machines, at some point along the way, had chosen to remain friendly with him. They were not acting on some moral code of obligation as the beholden Autobots. No. Skywarp, Thundercracker and Starscream had actively chosen to be civil with him and his family and that tiny realization only galvanized his resolve that having a friendship didn't make him a traitor; it made him a weapon, an unpredictable connection to be feared and respected.

He shakily stood to his feet as the Decepticons approached. Thundercracker gave him a deliberate nod of acknowledgement before continuing inside. Skywarp stopped just short and a long, pregnant silence fell between them.

"So…." Stinger began awkwardly, not entirely sure what to say now that he was alone with his old frenemy. "I..uh...that is...I…" Jesus Christ, man! Spit it out already! He took a deep breath and tried again. "Warp, I owe you an apology."

The black Seeker seemed surprised. His faceplates scrunched in confusion and he cocked his helm to one side. "Apology!? What the frag for?"

Stinger barked a laugh, suddenly self-conscious of his decision to even be there. It all felt suddenly absurd and terribly ridiculous. But he persevered, if only to ease the swarming guilt that had clouded his mind since waking in the med bay.

"Fuck. Where do I even begin?" Stinger asked quietly, more to himself than the other present party. "Let's start with losing your position in the Decepticons, first." He threw his hands up in frustration. "Maria told me everything. You guys were damn near killed because of me, because of seven years ago!"

"Whoa, whoa. First of all," Skywarp interjected, kneeling down on a knee plate and raising a purple index finger for emphasis, "Screamer and TC made the decision to come pull my afterburners out of Latveria on their own! When that happened, they had no idea of our agreement at the time. So your apology, while extremely spark-felt," he pressed his fingers over his cockpit mockingly, "is not necessary nor warranted."

"What about doubting you?"

Skywarp had begun to stand, but froze at the words.

"I fucking doubted you, Skywarp. After everything we've been through together, after everything you've done for me, done for my family. I still doubted. I fucking doubted myself," he concluded in a bitter whisper. He turned partially away and fixated his grey gaze on a distant sage bush out on the horizon. "I let that bastard get to me and for the first time since I became a pilot, I lost sight of myself. Who I was, what I was doing...and it's been eating me alive inside." He turned back around and met inscrutable crimson optics, but continued, "I may not know who or what I am anymore, but what I do know, after everything that has happened, is I will still be your ally...if you'll have me."

Skywarp remained kneeling for the longest time. It was only a few minutes, but Primus those minutes stretched into an eternity. Stinger's words brought a fresh onslaught of feeling and emotions that frankly, he was very ill-equipped at dealing with. It wasn't too far from feeling like your plating getting abraded by a solar wind, except it was an interior burning sensation, equal parts painful, fresh, raw, and strangely relieving. And while the flood of emotions racing through his processor were foreign and uncomfortable to dwell on, he found that they were tolerable now knowing that his human friend was not willing to forsake their friendship after all.

Slowly, painfully a tiny lift appeared at the corner of Skywarp's lips. "Not to worry, squish. If it will make you stop this Autobot-afflicted self-pity party for one, I accept your...apology."

Stinger gave a genuine laugh. "Yeah. I reckon I do sound pretty pathetic, huh?"

"Just don't let it become a habit, eh?" But the tension that had been prevalent in Skywarp's frame seemed to visibly melt and his optics no longer possessed a guarded appearance.

The two shared another laugh as Skywarp offered a purple palm to the pilot. The human accepted gratefully, his still-healing body feeling quite exhausted from his walk out of the med bay.

Suddenly, Skywarp's comm crackled to life and Thundercracker's voice boomed in his audios. "Warp, get in here now. Starscream and Optimus Prime are preparing to brief. Command and Control."

"Affirmative. On my way."

"Oh, and is that half-pint pilot still with you?"

Skywarp looked down briefly at the human he held in hand. "Uh? Yeah? What about him?"

Stinger gave Skywarp a quizzical glance. Skywarp shrugged his intakes in response.

"Bring him. He'll want to hear this first hand, I'm sure."