Chapter 9: And A Little B…

A/N: Hmm, I might not follow stuff that happened in chronological order to be honest, because I'm quite happy and delusional in my own little world. ;) More Autobots! …But I hate Huffer. I want him to jump in a pool of joy-joy rainbow juice.

DID - damsel in distress

-------

A selected group of Autobots watched with grim fascination as Ratchet's hands shut the seekers chest compartment. The medic scanned the room knowing well that all the faces wore the same predicted expression of confusion, and his conclusive finding would not answer Optimus' previous question in full.

"There's nothing wrong with her, Prime."

"I don't understand Ratchet," the Autobot leader clarified his uncertainty, "Red, Inferno and I saw Starscream vomit energon. Red Alert said that she did not move for many days…is there any other medical explanation for her strange illness?"

"I hope it ain't contagious," Huffer reminded his colleagues of his endless pessimism, "-cause if she came here to give us some sorta virus-"

"It ain't a virus, Huffer. Like I said, there's nothing wrong with her. Nothing wrong physically…" Ratchet defended his professional analysis as a doctor.

"What if it's a Decepticon trick to escape her cell?" Prowl spoke. Feigning sickness was a common lie to play, especially when it involved captive Decepticons, but the energy bound hands and feet of the current captive gave her little chance to run. Flying was an option she could not afford on the account of her low energon levels, continuously dropping at precariously dangerous levels since her irregular expulsion of energon. A sluggish hum grumbled from the red seeker's machinery, doing its least to keep her alive. Hacking another thick stream of energon, the medic quickly took a concentrated vial of energon and poured the light blue contents it into a makeshift drip attached to the seekers fuel processor.

Many Autobots would be truly sickened at a Decepticon prisoner's welfare being cared for, especially one as infamous as Starscream, but their Autobot leader was not known to simply disregard life, and watching one suffer was enough to convince their leader to help her, Decepticon or not. Regaining some light into her optics, Starscream weakly croaked on her own words, barely audible to those around her, and struggled with a tremendous amount of effort to lift her shaking hands.

"Skh-….(huh)……(ah)…(a…ir)……..(air)…."

"Air?" the medic made clear of her words.

"(Skhh-)…(ski)….(sk…y)…..(huh)…"

She hands fell limp to her side and Optimus Prime shook his head at her pitiable conditions. Ratchet took note of her words, but his second conclusion would not be so clear or believable. An impossible theory, it was not.

"Um, Prime…I think our little Decepticon here, might be suffering from an extreme form of claustrophobia."

"But how can that be?" Prowl questioned him immediately. "We've had seeker prisoners before. Their first complaint was being caged-"

"I think this is Starscream's own problem, Prowl." Ratchet interrupted. "There's nothing wrong with her internal and external systems, but this psychological glitch in her cerebro-circuits is telling her otherwise, and she's suffering a withdrawal. She could die from severe energy deficiency."

"So..." Prime's deep voice rang clear in the medical bay. "If we bring her outside, she would be temporarily 'cured'?"

The very notion of that idea was already bombarded with sceptical opinions, and the Autobots held a guarded silence to comprehend the situation. Here lay a dying seeker, suffering from her own ideas of cabin fever. A highly valuable (if marginally tolerable) aerial commander, who coincidentally is the second-in-command of the Decepticon army. Letting her out would be the equivalent of setting a vulture free, the very want of any detainee. But if her symptoms were real, and Optimus Prime withheld the order to give her a promising glimpse of her instinctual home, he might as well shoot her point blank in the face, and her leader's inactivity was further proof that her condition was not unreal.

"(Dh-)……(Don't)….(wh-….)…(d…i…e……)…"

"….(Plea-)…."

Huffer folded his arms disconsolately. When talking could kill her, she still begs!

"…Ratchet, radio Ironhide and Jazz. They were in charge of guarding Starscream, so they would know how to handle her."

"But Prime-!"

"Have them escort her outside…after you remove her wings from her back, of course."

-------

Two pairs of red and white feet marched hurriedly to Ratchet's domain, making an odd clomping-thumping beat on the floor.

"Ah' can't believe we're gonna jes' let 'er auwt!"

"Ironhide, you heard the boss! She's dyin' and if we don't do anything, she's gonna meet her creator!"

"Ah' bet he's ugly."

"Ugly or not, you know Prime. And the little lady' sufferin'…you don't wanna see her suffer, do ya'?"

"…Awwwh! C'MAUN!"

"Yeah, c'mon! There's a D.I.D. in need or a R.E.S-cuing!"

-------

"Gosh, she's gotten too laight!"

"She's in serious need of a drink, man."

"Yeah? Well ah' say we don't give her that."

"'Better get her out in the open, and fast!"

"…(D…add…y…)…"

"DADDEH?! Now she's really losin' it!"

"Eh, maybe you remind her of her creator…old enough to be him maybe, look like him (maybe-)"

"Yew callin' me UGLY?!"

"Chill Ironman! No one said you were!"

"…Yeu carry her."

"Wait! Where you goin', man?"

"…Gonna ask Phrime t' give her a bit of energon. Give her some weight, maybeh'."

"…Ah…Ironhide…cotton heart!"

"WHERT YEU' SAY?!"

"Nothin' man! (Eh-heh!)"

-------

His blue visors reflected the lazy sun sinking into the horizon, the unchanging rocky cliffs and their bodies lit into a fiery red by the warm light. Her head hung limply on Jazz's side, cradling between her shoulder and his chest frame. Gently nudging her with his shoulders from her unwanted slumber, the Porsche considered her recovery to only work if her optics were open and functioning, but the pale blank stare did not mimic the tender rays of the sun. Jazz took in the sight of the unconscious female; he was probably the only Transformer to see Starscream looking strangely serene, and not screeching any order from her raspy vocals. Drowning in the gulf of silence, the Porsche sighed in quiet relief when an affectionate breeze brushed through them, teasing their sensors. Anything to kill the soundless atmosphere.

A tiny sound piped form Jazz's arms, and he looked down at the red jet to find her…smiling.

"…….(J…az…z…)….."

"…Thank Primus!"

Jazz almost crashed his head into her if he had forgotten who she was, and settled with sinking his whole body towards the ground. Her optics sparkled like a thousand constellations, heightened by the renewed vigour of the sun's rays being swallowed into her gaze, squinting when Jazz ran a black thumb to rub the sleep away.

"…Angels don't die…and I would have forgotten that if you'd never woken up, girl."

She blinked lazily in reply and tilted her head to look away from him, a soft smile gracing her face. She looked almost bashful, letting a forced chuckle escape her lips. The red seeker drank in the cool winds blowing life into her systems, and the rigid hum slowly grew into a more constant sound, albeit a little listless.

"…Whatever it is…I'm, kinda glad you didn't go, uh…I think…" Jazz looked to one side when she comfortably nestled herself into his form. Maybe she was too groggy or lethargic to comprehend her own actions, but Jazz felt no less than awkward at her unusual affection when she ringed her arms around his neck. The energy cuffs brusquely smacked the back of his head, drawing him closer to her own blissfully dazed expression.

"Ah….um….I wonder what's takin' Ironhide so, long…do you…?"

The jet giggled and shook her head quizzically, surprising Jazz with an embrace. The Porsche was naturally amiable, and his playful flirting with the opposite sex was quite innocent, but concerning Starscream's peculiar behaviour, the saboteur thought that maybe, just maybe, he has been away from female Transformers for too long. Taking note of the sky turning a darker shade of blue, he almost tripped over his own feet, picking himself off the ground with the femme con still latched onto his strained neck, and made his way back to the Ark. If Transformer's could change colour, Jazz could imagine his face being a dark red by now, and looking at his reflection from Starscream' paintjob only fuelled his running imagination.

"Can you talk, angel?"

"…(Yes)…(you…pig)…"

"Har-de-har-har, oink. What's wrong with you anyway? I've never seen any sickness like this before…"

A sober expression washed over the seeker's face, and he stopped walking down the halls. Hesitating for a few seconds, the female Decepticon leaned into Jazz's audio receptors and whispered, ever so softly, in fear of someone overhearing her.

"(It-)…(It's called)…."

"If you scream in my ears angel, I'm ready to turn 'em off."

"…(A…little)….(B)…."

And on cue of the letter 'S', the saboteur saw himself falling to the floor with the seeker, and nothing else.

-------

"Jazz, can you hear me?"

'….Oh slag, Optimus is gonna kill me now…'

A grey hand lifted Jazz's head off the ground, and the saboteur found his hands restrained. Looking down with scrambled vision, Jazz saw his hands were bound with energon cuffs between the static.

"(Slaggit…)…"

"….THE BIRD'S FLOWN THE COOP-!"

Jazz shot up and smacked his head straight into Ironhide's, knocking himself back down again.

Down the entrance of the Ark, Wheeljack picked up the energon cuffs meant for Starscream's legs, and shook his head.

"They don't make them like they used to…"

A small eruption echoed from inside the Ark, and Wheeljack found himself under scrutiny from his fellow Autobots.

"H-Hey! It wasn't me, honest! I was here all the time!"

-------

"Y'sure you can y' fly 'Screamer?"

"You don't see my feet on the ground, do you Rumble?"

"Hey, I was just wonderin'…you were in 'dere fer' so long, I thought you'd ran outta energy or somethin'."

"Don't worry, the Autobot medic has given me enough to go back to headquarters…I think…"

"You gonna go back an' get yer' wings? What about yer weapons?"

"My weapons were set to self-destruct when I was captured, and in….half an hour, no less. I hope they didn't store it with anything flammable."

"…I do miss my wings though…call the Constructicon's to get a nice pair ready for me, will you?"

"Yes ma'am!"

-------

A/N: Don't mess with the 'Screamer! And don't call her angel ;) Ah lurve writnin' Ahrnhide's dia-logue! XDDD He's a cool metal aft-kickin' grampa! Or uncle! 8/ And for those who don't know yet, BS means bullshit. Yay! Another mind corrupted! XD