Hook doesn't look up when the door opens, too busy soldering the last plate of weak and dull gray temporary armor to cover the Autobot's inner workings. It's a flimsy piece of Earth iron that offers close to no real protection, but at least keeps dirt out of the mech's insides.

It may be just a patch job, but he'll be slagged if he ever allows himself to make it less than perfect.

Builder frame type he may be, but he's just as good as any Medic, lack of specialized sensors and protocols and all, and he's more than willing to show them.

Glitched Senate, refusing to allow him entrance to the Medical Repair Academy…

"That is an excellent job."

Undignified response or not, Hook can't stop himself from letting the welding torch fall from his servos as he jumps away with a yelp.

He may have heard the voice just once before, but he very well knows who it is, so he's not surprised to find Sunstorm standing next to his previous position.

Though he is startled when he sees the sincere innocent curiosity on his faceplate and warm yellow optics.

"My apologies, I assumed you were aware of my arrival. Although I guess it must take a lot to be focused enough to deal such expert touches." The Seeker explains calmly, one dactyl following the latest weld mark on the Autobot's back with barely there pressure.

Unsure if he should be flattered or insulted by those words, Hook scowls and pushes the yellow mech away, recovering his torch to finish his job.

"I knew you were there. I just thought you were someone else." He scoffs, going back to welding the last plate as he makes a note of where the Flier is now, standing calmly where the Constructicon send him.

"I get that more than I think I should."

"Poor little you."

"Do not mock me, Grounder."

"Do not bother me, Seeker. I'm working."

There's no answer.

Hook takes an instant to see that the yellow mech is looking at him indignantly but, unlike any Decepticon when he's not working on them, he stays silent to let him finish what he's doing.

He lists it as the Flier having had to deal with Shockwave, and the risk of becoming his next living template if he disobeys, before he got to Earth and pushes his presence to the back of his processor, focusing on the stasis-locked mech he's been ordered to repair.

When he feels satisfied with his job, he turns off the torch and puts it with the other tools he'll have to clean on the tray, and turns around to go fetch himself a cube.

And yelps again when he finds the yellow Seeker still standing calmly when he last saw him.

"What the Pit are you still doing here?!"

"Was I supposed to leave?" He asks, sounding completely sincere, and the Constructicon scowls.

"Why. Are. You. Here." He hisses, and the almost serene calm of the Flier cracks to show the uncertainty under it.

Hook stops, all his annoyance vanishing faster than he can acknowledge it.

This is Shockwave's radioactive Seeker, powerful enough to melt a mech's plating with just being close enough.

And he's looking at him, a measly Builder, not with the mightier-than-thou attitude that all Fliers seem to reserve for the rest of Cybertronian, but with a pleading nervousness with a glint of hope that a newspark reserves for someone they know is of superior status.

What?

"I… seem to have trouble with one of my thrusters." He whispers, trying to make his voice sound strong but failing quite obviously.

When Hook doesn't do more than stare, he finally hunches down into himself, dactyls fiddling in front of his cockpit as he looks down.

"I was told you were the best Medic in the ship and I can ascertain it now that I've seen your work, so… could you… take a look? Please?"

"Please." This time, it's the Seeker the one who startles at the Constructicon's voice.

"Huh, yes. Please? Or… do you… need something? Some kind of payment? Shockwave never asked for anything, but I know this is not like back at Darkmount, so I'll understand if some kind of requisite is needed, though… I don't really know what I should get you. Does the treatment itself require a separate payment that the diagnoses?"

"Sit."

"What?"

"I said sit." The Grounder manages, shaking the numbness off and trying to deal with the fact someone is willing to pay him for a job that wasn't even supposed to be his in the first place.

He's a Builder, not a Medic, no matter that he's the best medically trained mech in the whole Nemesis.

After a brief flash of gratitude that makes Hook's spark twist and preen at the same time, the Flier moves to an empty berth and sits down, and despite his claims of something wrong with a thruster, he doesn't falter in his steps.

"What is the problem?" He asks, kneeling in front of the dangling pedes and firmly but gently clasping the offered limb in a servo to look it over.

"There seems to be something stuck between the low and high-pressure turbines. I can feel it gritting against the walls, but I have no means of ascertaining its nature or how to better remove it." Visor pale orange in surprise, Hook looks up, and the Flier turns insecure once more, something almost like fear in his paling optics. "Is it bad?"

"It's… You're telling me you've come to the Repair Bay because you have dirt in your turbines?" He exclaims, dumbfounded and mildly insulted. "What, do you only have half a functioning processor?"

This time, it's the Seeker that looks insulted, though there's something under the indignation…

Oh.

Oh Primus.

Is he really scared?

"If you're so useless that you can't even get rid of a so called bit of dirt from my turbines then release me. I'll find some way to deal with that myself." The yellow mech scoffs, hiding his fear and growing despair quite effectively.

But it's easy for Hook to see them, now that he knows they're there.

"That's what all of you Seekers usually do." He points out, his grip on the pede tightening when he feels its owner give a tentative tug to try to get it free. "There's a reason you have retractable claws, you know." And the Flier stops, surprise replacing all other feelings.

"We have what?"

"I take it back. You have just half a spark, don't—"

The kick to the faceplate takes him by surprise, as does the lack of radioactive heat when the yellow mech stomps on his chest plates to keep him lying on his back, a dangerous scowl on his faceplate and pale amber optics.

Uh-oh. He looks pissed. And if the thing with Wildrider taught the Decepticons anything, it's not to anger the new Flier.

Feeling panic start to grow, Hook contacts his Gestaltmates and Acid Storm to get the Pit down here before I become a puddle of melted slag!

"How dare you assume anything about my spark, you filthy Ground-pounder." The Seeker hisses, and a reboot of his visor leaves him staring up into white and red and blue plating and dark faceplates with burning crimson optics—

Another reboot, and the memory vanishes.

That's right, Starscream had thrown him on his back too that one time they'd tried to mess with Skywarp's warp-matrix…

"I wasn't assuming anything!" He hurries to reassure, servos up to show they're empty, hoping the gesture would make the other calm down. "It was just a bad choice of words, I wasn't implying you're any less of a Seeker than—" Too late do Hook's servos fly to cover his mouth, and he knows it.

Instead of the temperature 'dropping', as the saying goes, the room starts to heat up, and the Constructicon's chest plates easily warm up under the turbine slowly coming to life.

The door opens.

"Sunstorm, enough!" Acid Storm roars, getting to his Trinemates side with two long steps and pulling him off the Builder, the heat vanishing as the air from the corridor fills the Repair Bay.

Hook scrambles to his pedes so quickly that he stumbles, but he suddenly finds Bonecrusher's arms around his trembling frame to help him keep standing, the rest of his Gestalt slowly trickling inside with startled or suspicious looks.

"What happened?" Scrapper whispers, none of them looking away from where the green Seeker is glaring down at the scowling yellow one.

But Hook has seen it once, and thus he can no longer ignore the pain and fear and shame hidden behind bright amber optics and the angered grimace.

With a simple push, he steps away from his brothers and towards the Fliers.

"It was my fault." All optics and visors land on him, but he only cares about the startled pale yellow ones and the confused and wary red ones of the Seekers. "A poor choice of words. No harm done."

"But there could have been." Acid Storm grumbles, and when he turns his glare on the slightly smaller mech, the other visibly flinches.

"My bad, really. Now, get back on the berth and let me take a look at that turbine." He answers calmly, waving away the incredulity of his Gestaltmates as he gestures for the yellow Seeker to move.

"Turbine? Are you damaged?" Acid Storm exclaims, all anger now turned into worry as he clasps his Trinemate's arms to look him over, earning himself a grimace of annoyance.

"I'm not. It's just some dirt, I'll deal with it myself."

"The truth. Now."

"That is the truth."

"You wouldn't be in the Repair Bay to get rid of some dirt." And the smaller Flier looks away with shame clear on his faceplate, the fear hidden only slightly better. "Sunstorm?"

"I don't know how to clean it out, but Hook said I should. So I'll find a way." He answers morosely, and Acid Storm quickly releases him and whirls away from him, a spark-extinguishing snarl on his faceplate that makes the Constructicons bolt away from the door as he rushes out.

But Hook only notices the betrayed and broken expression on the yellow Seeker's faceplate, and how he lets his helm fall down with trembling servos tightly pressed into fists at his sides.

"Sit." He orders, giving the Flier a soft push that forces him to end on the berth, and there's no resistance when he kneels down and grabs the offending pede once more, a tiny brush on his free servo as he tilts the thruster to be able to see better inside. "He's not mad at you, you know." He lets out almost casually as he carefully pushes the tool inside to clear away the reddish dirt of the desert the Space Bridge is in. "He's going to go shoot something or someone, or take a long flight, and when he's sure he won't snap at you he'll come back." And he doesn't feel incredulous looks on him because his brothers are tinkering around with their own projects or whatever around the Repair Bay, but he knows they're listening, and feels their wordless questions through the Gestalt bond.

Why is he being nice to the glitched Seeker that had tried to melt him barely a klik ago?

He has a couple of ideas, but he's not willing to speak them out loud, or even look at them too closely.

"I don't understand it." Sunstorm whispers, still sitting limply and letting Hook work, looking down at the servos now open on his lap, palms up, as if they held all the answers. "I want to, but… I don't. He's supposed to be my Trinemate, he said that, but…" The Constructicon stops, slowly looking up to see optics a dirty shade of brownish gold lost in the middle distance. "You're right. I don't have a full spark."

All sound in the Repair Bay stops.

"Why would you say that?"

"I am the messenger of Primus, sent here to right the wrongs the Senate and the line of fake Primes forced on our people. But… He couldn't build me. He gave my schematics, the very idea that would bring me to function, to Shockwave for him to build me… but he's just a mech, and despite his genius, there was only so much he could do with what he had… I'm not a Seeker. Not a real one, anyway. Acid Storm said I'm missing most, if not all of the spark-coding, yet he still calls me his Trinemate…"

"Whoa, mech… That's not good…" Scavenger whispers, and Hook grimaces in turn, watching the Flier huddle into himself.

"How the Pit can he even function without the spark-coding? That should be impossible!" Bonecrusher exclaims, as dumbstruck as the rest.

"There's no way a mech would be created without the frame type coding, he should have been reabsorbed. And Vector Sigma would never release such a spark either." Scrapper points out, thoughtful.

"I was neither created from another spark nor by Vector Sigma. Shockwave made me. An accumulation of energy compressed by magnetic fields and fed whatever coding he felt necessary, mixing a bit of almost everything to obtain a super-soldier, a mech that defied classification, a… a frame type-less Cybertronian." Sunstorm whispers painfully, and there are some clangs as the Constructicons either sit down or rest against whatever can hold their weight while they process things.

"Slag." Long Haul simply whispers, and Hook knows he's not the only one to nod in agreement.

"So you're what, a mech with some of all frame types at spark trapped in a Seeker frame?"

"Essentially."

"Acid Storm doesn't know, does he." It's not a question, but the pained grimace is more than answer enough, and when the yellow mech pulls his pede out of his grip, the Builder allows it. "That's how you're still functioning. You don't have all Seeker essential coding, but the bits of other frame types fill in the voids to conform a whole spark. The ultimate Hybrid."

"But it's not whole…"

"What?" He repeats, trying to make sense of the faint words his audials have barely managed to catch.

"My spark, it's not whole. I… I can feel parts missing."

"You're one really messed up mech." Mixmaster whistles, and the Seeker-in-frame scowls while curling further into himself, one servo pressing against his cockpit, just over the spark chamber.

"Alright, first things first." Hook's voice as he stands up is authoritative and strong enough to earn not only his Gestaltmates' undivided attention, but also the pair of muddy gold-brown optics looking up at him. "You are a Seeker, just a glitched one. Know why? Because Seekers only create Trine bonds with other Seekers, and even though you can't identify the Trine bond yet, for whatever reason, if Acid Storm says it's there, then it is." Sunstorm perks up visibly at that, hope brightening his optics as a small smile tries to make his lips twitch.

"You think so?" He whispers, awed and so painfully wanting to believe, and the Builder straightens with a pompous half-glare.

"I know so."

And the smile finally blooms.

"Hey, if he has something of Builder in him, do you think we could teach him?" Mixmaster asks, and the Seeker visibly perks up, almost literally glowing as, along the rest of Constructicons, he turns to look at Scrapper, who is observing him thoughtfully.

"Why not?" He finally answers, and, for the third time this joor, Hook finds himself yelping as the yellow mech latches onto him, babbling questions non-stop.

"What are you, a newspark?!" He exclaims, cutting the Seeker's ranting and ignoring the loud cackling of his brothers as he pushes the Flier off of him.

"I am not a newspark. I'm just recently built."

Silence.

The Gestalt bond is suddenly filled with giddiness and excitement, and even Hook himself is smiling and almost bouncing as they process those words.

They get to teach a newspark, to be his role models and family and… is that a new bond?

The Constructicons stiffen, he can feel it as well as see it, as they all realize there's a new trickle of energy from their sparks besides that of the Gestalt bond.

Small, weak and definitely fraternal, but a bond.

Mixmaster breaks down cackling as Scrapper falls down in a pile of limp limbs, Scavenger and Long Haul exchanging disbelieving looks while Bonecrusher crosses the room with some big steps to throw an arm around the confused yellow mech's shoulders, mindful of the wings, to guide him to one of their work stations.

Hook smiles, testing the tiny bond once more.

Spark-call bonds are rare enough, but for the whole Gestalt to experience it?

A fragging miracle.

But hey, their youngest brother is always saying he's been sent by Primus, so why not?

Annoying as he is, Sunstorm is also a blessing.

Had any other mech been in his same situation, lacking most of their frame type spark-code to the point they can't even feel a Trine bond, he's sure they wouldn't have been as understanding as to welcome Acid Storm with a bright smile and pure happiness when he finally cleared his processor of all the pain and anger that clouded it when he realized just how mangled his charge truly is.

But Sunstorm does, leaving the blueprints he's attentively looking over with Scrapper in one of the Repair Bay slash lab's workstations to happily not-bounce to his Trineleader's side with the most radiant smile and not even the slightest hint of anger or accusation in his bright yellow optics and the bond he can't neither feel nor, consequently, block.

Anything that comes through the Trine bond is the real uncensored deal, and, amidst his relief and the apologies he whispers to the younger Seeker, Acid Storm feels eternally grateful for it.

So distracted is he by being reunited with his Trinemate and with the knowledge he's not being blamed by what must have looked like plain simple rejection, that it takes him almost a full klik to notice the spark-extinguishing glares of the Constructicons.

Of all of the Constructicons.

Unsure and suddenly threatened, he turns to look at them, one by one, as he unconsciously grabs the other Flier's forearm to pull him behind his green wings to shield him from the threatening attention suddenly on the Air Commander.

And then, Hook steps forward, and if he didn't have Sunstorm at his back, he would've moved away from the smaller mech.

"You keep an optic on him, and if you manage to hurt him again, you better hope Megatron decides to stop us, because we will make you pay." The medic hisses, poking his cockpit, and the Seeker feels his mouth fall open in disbelief, optics pale.

"Are you telling me how to deal with my own Trinemate?" He lets out without thought, dumbstruck, and receives nods from all the lime green mechs.

"And you better remember who are the medics around here, you metallic chicken, because we won't have any qualms about letting you know just how badly you're messing up." Scrapper adds, arms crossed against his chest plates.

Sunstorm tugs his arm free and steps around the older Flier with an amused snort.

"You're all way too dramatic to make effective threats." He answers with a soft snicker. "Too many words. It should be as simple as saying 'we will see you both around'." He adds, optics flashing with a menacing sharp smirk at the end, and all the other mechs shiver in fear, moving away uncomfortably, just before the yellow Seeker chuckles again. "See? Keep things simple."

And, with a last warning glare to the Air Commander and pleasant parting words, both Fliers walk out of the Repair Bay.

"What was that about?" He asks Sunstorm when he feels they're far enough.

"They like me."

"Really."

"Yes. I'm likable." The green Seeker snorts, earning a not amused look.

"No, really, what happened there? I thought you wanted the Grounder melted?" Seriousness takes over the usually haughty faceplate, and the smaller mech turns away. "Sunstorm?"

"Not really. I… He just made a bad choice of words, that's all. But they said they can help me." He answers, brightening at the end, and Acid Storm stops. "They think I may have the coding, but that it is inactive. They say that learning things I should know could help me activate it." He explains, and the Air Commander's spark pulses faster, reflecting the happiness and hope of the one it's bonded to.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

And he laughs, both at the relief and the soaring sensation the possible solution makes him feel, and the pure newspark-like joy of his Trinemate, and the knowledge that the Constructicons are really committed to the task, if their protectiveness means anything.

Hope.

It's been a long time since he last felt it, and by Primus, does it feel good.

The end of the war is close too, he can feel it in his very spark. With Megatron's determination to finally get rid of the Autobots, Earth's resources and both his and Sunstorm's presence on this planet, the impossible doesn't seem so unattainable anymore.

All because of a slightly smaller than average brightly colored and haughty glitched Seeker.

A shame, that Starscream won't be able to see their beloved planet restored.

Startled by the thought, Acid Storm stops once more.

Starscream.

Was his deactivation also a key part of their upcoming victory?

No. It wasn't. If anything, it just has slowed us down.

Sunstorm could have benefitted so much from the presence of the previous Air Commander and his experience, as would have the Air Forces…

But would Megatron be as focused as he is now, as determined?

If he valued Starscream that much, why push him away?

He knows the answer to that.

Starscream had lost faith in Megatron, had lost all hope of the promise of a free Cybertron ever becoming a reality.

As had all of them.

But instead of letting it drag him down, of becoming as jagged and lenient as Acid Storm himself, he had decided to take matters in his own servos.

By taking charge of the Decepticons and finally put an end to the useless fighting.

Not that he ever managed such a feat.

Which merits a bit of investigating, because surely Starscream could have found a way to defeat the warlord, if not to kill him, couldn't he?

A sharp punch brings the Air Commander back to reality, a servo rubbing his dented shoulder plate as he glares down at his scoffing Trinemate.

"What was that for?"

"To get you to stop ignoring me, of course. What, am I not worthy of your attention anymore?"

"Not when you're acting like a needy newspark. What was so important that you thought it necessary to attack your commanding officer?"

"Attack. Right." The yellow Seeker deadpans, optics half lit and servos resting on his pelvic plating in a stance all too reminiscent of another mech. "I was asking you if we have clearance to walk down this part of the ship."

With a look around, and a quick consultation of the map of the Nemesis he has been given, Acid Storm realizes they're walking towards the engine rooms.

Not exactly where he wanted to be, but it isn't like it's forbidden either.

"Of course we do. There are no vetoed areas, least of all for the Air Commander." He answers calmly, looking at his Trinemate in curiosity. "Why?"

"Because we're being followed." He explains easily, dropping the knowledge with the same impact of a cluster bomb.

"We're what?!" He exclaims, turning around with turbines roaring in anger, and quickly locating the small patch of purplish blue sneaking into a half-opened door to an empty room.

He's never cared much for gossipers or just plain spies, so long as they're not Autobots, but now he has a newspark to take care of, a disabled Flier, a young Seeker.

And he already knows the enemy is able to sneak into the ship, despite it being undersea.

So, with a burst of speed from his thrusters, he rushes into the room and catches the tiny creature trying to sneak into the ventilation shaft, his clawed servo managing to grab it before it gets too far and throwing it to the ground, pede slamming down onto the chest plates to keep the Cassette-sized being in place—

Cassette-sized. Blue and purple color scheme. Red visor glaring up at him, scowling.

With a tired hiss of hydraulics, he lifts his weight off Soundwave's creation, but doesn't take his optics off of him.

"You better have a slagging good explanation for this, Rumble."

"Me?! You're the one that attacked me!" The Cassette retorts, getting to his pedes and making a show of dusting off his scuffed plating.

"You were spying on us."

"So? I'm a spy, that's what we do."

"Then you won't mind if we tell Soundwave you were snooping around to prepare your new prank." Sunstorm pipes in, leaning against the open door with his arms crossed against his cockpit and a nonchalant expression.

Rumble splutters, visor pale in surprise, as he takes a step back.

Busted.

"Was not!"

"Then there's nothing wrong if we tell him, isn't it?"

Silence.

And then, frame slumping in defeat, the Cassette scowls, arms forcefully crossed against his chest plates as he looks away.

"Go frag yourself."

"Want to watch?"

This time, both Acid Storm and Rumble sputter in disbelief, looking at the smaller Seeker with startled expressions.

And they're met with a smug triumphant grin on a darkened faceplate, the lights from the corridor shadowing the expression that is sharpened by his optics' yellow glow.

"Oh, your faces…" The younger mech snickers, finally breaking down laughing when the other two find themselves unable to wash away the shock. "That was too easy!"

"Frag off, Screamer!" Rumble growls, the sound echoing in their struts—

Yellow lightning streaks over Sunstorm's plating and the Cassette hides behind the Air Commander with a terrified shriek.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm—"

"Enough!" The yellow mech scoffs, the charge dissipating, but the lingering smell of ozone being more than enough warning of what could have and may still happen. "Why does everybody call me Starscream? Wasn't he the deactivated husk Shockwave was going to smelt for base materials?"

"Hey! He was a mech before he was deactivated!" Rumble protests before Acid Storm has a chance to answer, and the younger Seeker scoffs.

"Obviously. I have yet to hear anything good about him. All the Decepticons of Darkmount said was that he was a traitor and a coward."

"He wasn't!" The Cassette roars, loud enough that the Air Commander's whole frame shudders with the vibrations.

"And how am I supposed to know if no one tells me?"

"He liked staying functioning and he wanted Megatron out of the picture, but he was not a coward and he was not a traitor, and those glitches from Darkmount can go throw themselves to a smelter for all they know, because it was us who had to deal with Starscream and got to know him, not them!"

"Since when do you defend him?" Acid Storm lets out without thought, startled at the outburst of the smaller mech shaking by his pedes, fans whirring madly.

"Go rust." The Cassette scoffs, turning away as he obviously tries to recompose himself.

"Would you agree to talk over a couple of High Grade cubes?" Sunstorm suggests, calm once more and ever curious.

"And where are you going to get High Grade?" Rumble mumbles, but looks at the Flier with clear interest.

"I have my contacts." The yellow mech purrs, and Acid Storm takes an involuntary step back.

Trinemate or not, newspark or not, Sunstorm can be slagging scary when he puts his processor to it.

And the mix of Starscream's acting and Swindle's business voice is definitely something to be wary of.

Wait.

Swindle.

"I'm not loaning you the money." The green Seeker quickly lets out, but yellow optics only brighten in amusement.

"What makes you think I'll be asking for it?"

"Sunstorm—"

"I'm not buying the High Grade, my dear Acid Storm."

"You're going to steal it?" Rumble asks, a growing smirk on his faceplate as he turns to fully face the smaller Flier.

"No. It will be willingly given."

AN: So... things happened. I'm as dumbstruck as you, believe me. I don't know where and how my brain came up with that.

Last update until the holidays are over, most likely, because I'll have little to no computer time, so I decided to at least leave the story with a bit of a happy tone. Happy holidays, people!