Author Note: I was pleasantly surprised (and by that I mean that I was in throes of ecstatic glee) to find that there's been another illustration of this pairing drawn. sJ-eP on deviantart rendered a beautiful picture, the link will be up on my profile page.

Once again, I'm touched that this series is being enjoyed so much. Everyone, it's for you that I keep writing. Thank you.

Salvation

Chapter 9

"Well... all right... maybe later, then."

Starscream sneered at Perceptor's quiet acceptance of denial, both amused and frustrated at how easily the Autobot gave in. Though he would usually have viewed such a lack of persistence as yet another weakness of his helpless scientist pet, the blind hope with which it was spoken tugged at his spark unpleasantly somehow.

Mood lightened from his earlier murderous desire for vengeance and the aching in his neck fading with each passing astrosecond, and having managed to stomach fingers on him without lashing out in defence or screeching a protest, Starscream found his aversion to touching his partner slipping away from his processors in a fast and steady stream. Momentarily, he wondered at his own wariness before deciding to acquiesce.

Rigidly and without a word, the jet wrapped his arm about the microscope's shoulders and tugged the smaller mech in close. There was a resounding clang as Perceptor's head bounced off his red shoulder vent, an expression of stunned surprise flitting across the white face.

The seeker said nothing. Instead, slowly so as not to jar his still-tender neck, he turned his head away as though disassociating himself from any tenderness. Perceptor quivered, but, after barely a moment, relaxed in the secure grasp.

For just one wonderful moment, everything was as it should be, without prejudice or dominance or hate. Starscream found it naggingly worrisome, as giving himself to such softness did not come naturally to him, and he fought down the irrational but persistent fear that something was going to go wrong or strike out. Even Perceptor seemed fidgety at the disquiet in his mate, shifting a little against the jet's fuselage.

From the scientist's vocaliser came a small sigh, "Primus, I'm so tired."

Starscream didn't acknowledge, more because he didn't need to rather than any degree of apathy; Perceptor sometimes had the rather irritating nervous habit of speaking whenever he found a silence long or awkward – mostly just to fill in the lack of noise, very rarely saying anything with a meaning that was not jumbled about in stuttered sentences.

And the red-bodied Autobot leaned back against Starscream's arm, noticeably more at ease with each klik that passed. The jet tucked the smaller robot into the crease between his main body and his wing, the arm that was wrapped around the red chassis moving up slightly so he could smooth his blue thumb over the examination tray that made up his partner's chest. In response to the attention, Perceptor let his head slide back a little, resting the cranial join against Starscream's wing as he stared upward at the darkening sky.

"Everything's going wrong at once. The disaster in Italy, Skyfire getting shot..." Heaving another sigh, the microscope shook his head. "Megatron nearly killing you, I... should have been more careful. It was foolish to think it would be so easy. We're in the middle of a war, I... I did not stop to think about that..."

"Planning on trying to leave again?" The jet grunted threateningly. Rather than protesting his worth and free will, Perceptor merely smiled at the dominance in his partner's voice, dimming his optics a little as Starscream's cobalt hand slid down his waist.

"No, I've had time to think it through and I know that I want to stay with you for now." Toying with the idea of trying to explain himself when, even after all this time, he still didn't understand his own reasoning (or lack thereof), the red-bodied Autobot accompanied his words with a shrug. "I... I guess I like being with you."

The expression on Starscream's face was unreadable at those words, carefully and guardedly blank. Perceptor did not wonder at it, for it was an expression he had seen plenty of times before. Usually it appeared on the seeker's dark visage when he was debating whether or not to speak his spark to his mate.

Sometimes, though only very rarely, when something had upset him more than usual, Starscream would be relatively open and honest and spill his troubles into the winds for Perceptor to hear and respond to. Perceptor liked those times, where Starscream gave of himself instead of just taking. He preferred those times to the passion and the lust, no matter how good the jet could tease him into feeling. There was something about having the untouchable seeker trust him so much that was so perfect.

Without warning, and with a roughness that had to cause him discomfort considering his current state of disrepair, Starscream pulled Perceptor into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly about his partner's waist to prevent escape and letting his dark head fall forward to rest on a grey-ridged shoulder. Starting in mild surprise, not expecting the odd display of possessive tenderness and unsure of what he was supposed to offer, Perceptor hesitantly reached forward with his free hand, gently running his fingers over the seams in his mate's grey helmet in a smooth caress.

As was usual, Starscream tensed at the petting, but, this time at least, he did not lash out or pull away. Instead, a low growl emitted from his vocal processor, and he lifted his head up a little so his blazing crimson optics, which had not dimmed their unnatural brightness in the slightest, bore straight into the Autobot's light blue.

And then, with a softness that was not characteristic of his vicious nature, the air commander ran one hand up the scientist's back to cup the back of the light grey helm and bring his partner's head in so their lips could meet in a fleeting kiss. Just a kiss – there was none of Starscream's usual exuding dominance or battling for control, it was just a brush of metal over metal, a sign of affection.

The brightness of his blazing scarlet optics was dazzling when it was in such close proximity, and still he did not allow them to dim. Perceptor felt the niggling feeling of worry start gnawing at his spark again.

"Starscream?" He spoke against his mate's lips, getting but a grunt in acknowledgement, "Is there... is there something wrong with your eyes?"

"My eyes?" Questioned the Decepticon dully, listlessly, narrowing his optics. "No."

"You won't mind me taking a look?"

Starscream's lip curled in disgust as Perceptor reached towards his face questioningly, speaking before the fingers even laid upon the metal of his visage. "Get your hands off me."

"They're brighter than they should be," pressed the microscope, stubborn in his concern as he shifted on Starscream's lap to get a closer look, "that's hardly energon efficient, you're wasting your power. Is it a glitch?"

Pulling his head back with a sneer, Starscream jerked to the side a tad, no longer able to quite meet his mate's gaze. "I said it's nothing!"

"I don't believe that for a moment." Murmured the milder robot, tilting his head. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me – but please don't take me for a fool and tell me there's no problem when really there is. I'm not stupid."

"Fragging me off is about as stupid as you can get, Autobot." Sneered the Decepticon warrior haughtily, which in turn coaxed a weak smile from his mate. Seeing that, a strange and bitter taste contaminated the seeker's mouth, and he bared his teeth a little at the unwelcome sensation of guilt, turning away at the same time as allowing himself to be more open. "Whatever, Megatron tore my old optic panels off a little while back as a punishment, that's what's wrong with them."

"He tore out your -!?"

"What are you whining about?" Demanded the lieutenant coarsely, cutting across the disbelieving exclamation, his high voice grating and shrill, "I've had worse before and I'll probably have worse again, I don't need your pity!"

But Perceptor seemed horrified at the idea. "Why do you let Megatron attack you like that? Surely you can do better for yourself than being his – his slave?"

"Slave?" At first the tone was surely disbelief, but then a crazed smile overtook the jet's dark lips, a screech of hilarity falling from his vocaliser in a ferocious bout of unhinged laughter. "Slave!? That's what you think I am?" With no warning, one of the blue hands closed tightly about Perceptor's white neck, the light humour gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a terrifying glare. "Listen to me, fool."

Caught somewhere between fear at his erratic and unpredictable mate, a deep-rooted fear that would probably never fade, and concern for the still-sparking torso injury on the red fuselage, the Autobot scientist put up no struggle, not even thinking to protest at the grasp on his throat, silently watching with wide optics as Starscream sneered in his face.

"Pain! That's what we thrive on! That's what it means to be a Decepticon!" The bright red eyes, burning dripping red, were alive with a blood-thirst that was usually only seen in the fury of battle. "It defines us, we take what we must, we give back all we have received and worse! Megatron targets me above all others, that is because I am more of a threat to him than any of his other soldiers! He is afraid of me! So don't you dare discredit all that I have achieved by labelling me as a victim, I don't need your pathetic Autobot sentiments!"

And the red-bodied microscope averted his gaze as Starscream snarled up at the sky; how obvious it was, at times like this, that the difference between Autobot and Decepticon was deeper than simply base programming and Megatron's sociopathic indoctrination. For Starscream, at least, violence was an integral part of merely existing, a core component of his being. It was... not easy to understand, especially for a pacifist. It was frightening.

"I hate Megatron." The jet was carrying on speaking, staring up at the clouds in Earth's sky with a ferocious expression on his grey face. "He is a short-sighted, blinkered moron incapable of ever being able to win this war – but if he were too weak to use violence as discipline, he would just be a coward."

Starscream's cobalt hand fell from Perceptor's neck, leaving the microscope shaken and speechless – though he had no time to gather his wits, as his vicious mate lowered his dark mouth to the nape of the white throat, the abused metal his hand had just held, and nuzzled, teasing over soft and pliable plating with his teeth in a way that was simultaneously both soothing and arousing.

And the Decepticon warrior raised his fingers, caressing over a light cheek, over the ridged seams, tilting Perceptor's head around gently as he pulled his own back to steal a kiss. His spare arm curled around the microscope's chest, pulling him closer, holding him tight.

After the psychotic outburst, the tenderness was unexpected but not unwelcome - but seeing the expression of peace over the air commander's grey face, no hint of the lust for death that had been there but a klik prior, Perceptor was inclined to agree with the popular theory that his mate really was three diodes short of a logic circuit.

Yet he could still manage these moments of relative normalcy, or at least what an Autobot considered as normal. Perhaps that was why Perceptor liked these times of spark-sharing rather than spark-bonding – because, when Starscream could reign in his personality and speak almost as an Autobot spoke and touch as would a real lover, without dark desire or power-hungry raving, it seemed as though there was no war at all.

"Megatron is a fool." Hissed the jet against Perceptor's throat, the venomous hatred in the voice somehow managing to soothe the microscope from his nervousness. Recognising the tone as meaning Starscream was about to elaborate on whatever was bothering him, the smaller robot hesitantly began to pet the dark head, smiling a little when there was not even a flinch. "Why does he still linger on this planet!? It's of no strategic importance, it's far from home and the indigenous species are technologically impaired! Destroy it! He should withdraw his troops and blow this Primus-forsaken place up. Siphon the energon from the explosion and be rid of the Autobots and the humans in one blast – but he still fights for this rock, and the Decepticons still follow him! They're all blind!"

Once again, Perceptor understood why Prime so often expressed his thanks that Megatron did not listen to the advice of his sub-commanders. Keeping up his soothing pets, he murmured a response. "You know, Starscream, you can be quite frightening at times..."

"Henh," a small sneer, "you think so?" Perceptor found his spare hand caught up and held tightly in one of Starscream's blue, their fingers interlocking. "You know I'd take you with me."

Ahh, there it was, the disguised acknowledgement that Starscream thought of Perceptor as more than just an item, hidden in swathes of the jet's usual arrogance. In gratitude for the sentiment, the scientist kissed the seam of the seeker's dark cheek, more than happy to allow his body to be cherished by one of his people's greatest foes as his meek personality proved, time and again, a sheaf for the blade of Starscream's wit.

O

"How are you feeling?"

"Mmm... better. There's an ache around the periphery of the spark chamber, but I suppose that's just - ?"

"Yes, that's the new circuits acclimatising. If it's still sore after a groon or so, tell me about it, there's still a chance that your systems will reject them as aliens."

"A high percentage?"

"Not particularly, perhaps five or six at most, but we can't be too careful what with the proximity to your laser core."

Skyfire smiled as he pushed himself carefully into a sitting position, glancing down with a scrutinising optic at the space on his chest where the wound had been and silently praising the Autobot medical team for their expertise. There was only a small groove to show where vital surgery had taken place, and only flaking in the white paint of his fuselage to show where the blast had entered at all.

"Thanks Hoist." He nodded at the tow-truck, who had been tapping away worriedly at his medical workbench when the shuttle came round.

"Prime wants a report on your situation, Skyfire," waving a hand airily at the gratitude, the stand-in medic continued businesslike, expression visibly taught even with his faceplate, "if the Ark is being monitored, it may prove to be a problem, especially as far as surgical resources are -"

"Oh, don't worry." Skyfire leaned back against the head of the berth, ignoring a slight twinge in the area of his recovering wound. "The Ark's not being watched. Astrotrain got me – he was entering the Earth's troposphere just as I was close to leaving it and he came in directly above me, shot me through before I could work out whether the shuttle was human or hostile. It was just a lucky shot, nothing more."

Before Hoist could answer, the airlock door slid open and a red-painted robot strode through, dragging his grey feet slightly as though tired.

"Any change, Hoi – oh!" Perceptor stopped as a realised that Skyfire was conscious and watching him, a few moments of uncertainty passing before a relieved smile crossed his face. "Oh, Skyfire, you're awake! Thank Primus!"

"Thanks Perceptor, where have you been?" Hoist questioned neutrally, gathering himself up and heading towards the threshold of the medical bay.

"Oh, I – sorry I'm late, I was – I was deep in recharge." The microscope nipped at his lower lip, gazing somewhere to the right of Hoist's head, but the green Autobot did not seem to realise the lie as he nodded in understanding.

"Never mind. There's aching where the new circuits have been installed but that shouldn't last more than a groon."

"Right, I understand. Go and get some sleep."

Without another word, Hoist left the surgery, Perceptor now alone with the conscious Skyfire. Turning back from the door, the microscope was not surprised at the expression of suspicion on the usually-benevolent white face.

"Deep recharge?" Skyfire asked, his kind voice carefully blank. "You still look pretty tired, though. Been suffering from insomnia again?

"Skyfire -"

"You were with Starscream, weren't you?" Though it was an accusation, it was still devoid of all emotion, as though Skyfire were hoping to be proven wrong.

Perceptor sighed, supposing it was unavoidable. "Yes, I was. I don't apologise for that. I regret having to lie, but if anyone -- well, you know why I don't want people to know. But Skyfire -" He cut across as the shuttle opened his mouth in what must have been protest, "was it Starscream that attacked you? I – he told me it wasn't, but I can't trust his word for it..."

With a shake of his great white head, the researcher relaxed back in recline. "No. Astrotrain got lucky."

Though the microscope said nothing, the unadulterated relief on his expressive and honest face spoke volumes. Skyfire tilted his head as he continued to survey his smaller friend. "I still don't like this, it's too much of a security breach to be kept a secret. Prime should be informed..."

The red-bodied scientist moved over to the computer terminal that Hoist had been working at, reading absently through the notes made by the medical team on Skyfire's recovery. "I'm very grateful that you haven't told anyone, but do what you must. I'm not going to stop seeing him. I know full well what I've gotten myself into and I know where I'm needed – but I made a promise, and I'm going to keep it. I've found where I belong."

A long and awkward silence dragged on. Perceptor filled it not by speaking, as he would usually, but by beginning to take medical measurements from the patient even though Hoist had already seen to that. For a klik or two past the comfort range, Skyfire's expression was stern before it unexpectedly creased in good-natured resignation. He knew intimately well how a mech could be seduced by the Decepticon jet. "I... I'll trust your judgement for now, you're far from stupid."

"Thank you Skyfire." Perceptor smiled as he took a reading of the pressure in the shuttle's main arterial energon vessels. "That means a lot to me. You're a good friend."

"Then don't make me regret that, hmm?"

The tautness in the air, the strenuous and awkward aura between the two friends, seemed to have subsided, and Perceptor went about his duty as a doctor with all his usual zeal and enthusiasm, chatting with Skyfire while he watched the shuttle's statistics with a wary optic, both of them immersed in science as though the whole mess with the Decepticon lieutenant had been entirely forgotten.