Title: New Leaf
Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.
Warning(s): None, really. It's all chat. Skywarp's potty mouth?
He'd agreed to stay.
Truth be told, at the time he'd been too mortified to argue. He couldn't decide which was worse – the fact that he'd actually offered his spark to the Prime, or the fact that the Autobot leader had turned him down. Skywarp wasn't sure if he should be relieved or offended. Embarrassed was the compromise.
But even if he'd taken the time to think it over, his response would have been the same. He didn't have anywhere else to go. There was no point returning to Cybertron; by now the planet was nothing more than a rusted-out slag heap.
Rejoining the Decepticons also held little appeal. Those that had survived would be as damaged, energon-starved and desperate as Skywarp had been, which meant the Seeker would spend more time looking over his shoulder with them than he did here in the heart of enemy territory.
In any case, there wasn't a mech left among them Skywarp gave a frag about, and more than a few he'd prefer to avoid. So even if Prime had been willing to restore his disabled combat functions and release him, Skywarp had little reason to leave.
It wasn't as if the Autobot leader's conditions were all that hard to fulfill – play nice, don't squish the squishies. Skywarp could do that. Especially if it netted him repairs and energon. Most especially if it got his disabled systems brought back online.
Of course the second part would take time. He knew that. The Prime might have been willing to give Skywarp the benefit of the doubt, but the mechs under his command weren't quite so forgiving. He'd overheard them arguing about it, heard the medic – Ratchet – saying it was a bad idea to let Skywarp remain on the base, and Ironhide predicting the Seeker would slag them all in their recharge the first chance he got.
Not that he'd been eavesdropping. He'd just happened to be walking by.
So he'd waited. He'd done his best to mimic Thundercracker's patience, and for the better part of the next stellar cycle he'd been on his very best behavior.
Well, mostly.
Ok, so maybe sneaking into the hangar Ironhide used as his personal quarters while the Autobot was in recharge and inscribing FRAG ME on his back in neat Cybertronian glyphs hadn't been the brightest idea, but it had been funny. The weapons specialist had walked around for the better part of an Earth day before one of the squishies finally asked him about it.
Naturally Ironhide had wanted to slag him for it, but the Prime hadn't seemed too fragged off, and Skywarp had spotted the medic snickering quietly when he thought no one was looking. He wasn't sure if any of them realized the prank had been a direct response to Ironhide's offhand comment, but either way, Skywarp figured he'd made his point.
Apart from that, he'd been good. He hadn't caused any damage to the base, or squished any squishies.
But it was driving him crazy.
To be fair, being imprisoned by the Autobots was probably a lot more relaxing than freedom would have been ("freedom" in this context meaning defending his vital components from scavenging Decepticons, and "imprisonment" meaning he could move freely about the Autobot base, as long as he didn't leave it) but even so, Skywarp was plagued by a feeling of near-constant unease.
It wasn't the hostility-bordering-on-hatred that he sensed from the Autobots living on the makeshift base, or the fleshies that visited it, that bothered him. Pit, for a former Decepticon, that sort of thing was almost normal.
No, it was the fact that all his combat systems were offline. Without them, he was only half a mech, a warrior without a war. He couldn't fulfill his core directives. He couldn't fly, he couldn't train, couldn't even leave the base like the Autobots often did, exploring their new planet or visiting their squishy companions. He didn't have any duties to speak of. He was just...idle.
Bored.
In hindsight, that was probably what caused the incident.
The former Decepticon had been innocently basking in the desert sun with most of his primary systems powered down when the human diplomat, too curious for his own good, had ventured too close, triggering Skywarp's external sensors, which in turn sent a perimeter alert warning to the Seeker's drowsing CPU.
His defensive programming had activated automatically, responding to the "threat" within the span of an astrosecond. Skywarp managed to initiate the override command in time to prevent himself from turning the puny organic into a puny organic stain on the ground, but the near-miss left the Seeker shaken and out of sorts, and he'd ended up snarling and brandishing his claws at the intrusive insect as he cursed him for his stupidity.
Skywarp could admit that had been a mistake, that he'd lost his temper, but was it his fault the stupid squishy had been so frightened, he'd sprung a leak and ended up drenched in his own lubricant? No, of course not! The fleshy had obviously been constructed with substandard parts, and he should have known better than to sneak up on a Seeker, anyway.
But it had happened, and now Skywarp once again found himself standing outside the hangar designated as the Prime's, waiting to face the music. Prime was sure to be torqued off – the Autobot leader was strangely protective when it came to the squishies – but Skywarp was determined to stand his ground. He'd tell Prime his side of the story, plead his case. He'd tell the Autobot leader that he needed his systems back online.
He opened the door, and stepped inside.
Skywarp entered to find the Prime seated on one of the wheeled rectangular metal boxes – the squishies called them "boxcars" – that the humans had brought onto the makeshift base to serve as furniture for their oversized alien allies. The Autobot leader appeared strangely pensive at first glance, but when his azure optics met Skywarp's crimson, all traces of that brief expression were gone, replaced by a look of resigned tolerance.
The look made Skywarp vaguely uncomfortable, causing him to shift his weight uneasily.
Well, whatever. At least Prime didn't look angry.
"I assume you know why I pinged you?" the Autobot leader inquired calmly.
"It wasn't my fault," Skywarp retorted defensively. "That stupid squi– er, human startled me! And anyway, I didn't hurt him! I didn't lay a claw on him! I just rumbled at him a little, so he'd back off."
He couldn't resist adding in an undertone, "Shouldn't have been that close to me in the first place. Stupid insect."
Prime nodded slowly. "I appreciate the effort you're making, Skywarp. But I'm afraid I must ask you to try harder. Our human allies are uneasy enough around you. Many of them have questioned the wisdom of my decision to allow you to remain here with us. One or two have even requested that I turn you over to them for study, so that they can continue the work they began with Megatron–"
Skywarp's optics widened in disgust and disbelief. The subsonic snarl that slipped instinctively from his vocalizer rattled the metal walls of the hangar.
"...but you needn't worry," Optimus assured him quickly, "I have no intention of doing anything of the kind. The humans are a young species; their moral code is still somewhat...underdeveloped. Rest assured, as long as I have any say in the matter, you will not be surrendered to their scientists under any circumstances."
Skywarp practically slumped in relief. For a moment he'd been genuinely worried that Prime really did intend to hand him over to his pet squishies. He had threatened one, after all. By Decepticon standards, it would have been considered a fitting punishment.
"But you must put more effort into controlling your behavior, Skywarp," Prime continued. "Each...mistake like this one, each instance of you acting out lends further strength to the humans' argument that you are a threat to them, one that needs to be contained or eliminated. Each time an incident like this occurs, it becomes increasingly difficult to argue in your defense."
The Autobot leader's tone was matter-of-fact, not chiding nor accusatory. So why the frag did Skywarp suddenly feel like a scolded sparkling?
Rumbling defensively, the Seeker activated his vocalizer to argue his side, to level his own set of charges against the Prime as he'd planned –
But then he caught the fleeting look on the Autobot's faceplate, the one Prime quickly tried to hide.
The Prime looked weary. Terribly, unutterably weary. Not just in-need-of-a-few-orns'-recharge tired. Bearing-the-weight-of-the-universe-on-his-shoulder-struts exhausted.
A mech on the verge of total burnout.
Prime cycled a sigh through his intakes. "I realize it's been difficult for you here, Skywarp. I'm sorry to have to ask you for more, but I'm afraid there's no other choice."
The Seeker closed his mouth again, his argument unvocalized. He simply nodded, agreed to try harder, and departed Prime's quarters without another word.
What the frag was wrong with him? He should have argued! He should have said something. So what if Prime said he was sorry? "Sorry" didn't get Skywarp's combat systems back online!
Even if the Autobot leader did sound like he really meant it.
Skywarp had been more than a little disconcerted by that. His spark had done this queer little flutter, and he'd suddenly had the urge to try and comfort Prime, to tell him it was okay.
Which was completely ridiculous. It wasn't okay, he was going stir-crazy here, he wasn't allowed to fight or fly, he had stupid squishies sneaking up on him, wanting to use him for a science experiment, and the best Prime had to offer him was some lame apology? Frag that!
But still...
It was just...weird. It was like he somehow knew that as hard as things were for him, for the Prime they were even worse. Which made no sense at all.
Prime wasn't the glorified POW with half his circuits offline indefinitely, Skywarp was. Prime was the one everyone was always clamoring to see, the one everyone loved; Skywarp was the one they hated and did their best to avoid.
So why did Skywarp feel like he was the lucky one?