My Madness, My Saving Sanity

Chapter Seven: Sides

By: Nightelfcrawler

Author's note: While this is G1 based, I've made Starscream a blend of his G1 and Armada personalities just because I find the dichotomy of it fascinating. It takes place in no particular timeline, following no particular events. Also, please review politely. If you haven't something nice to say, keep it to yourself please.

"You did WHAT?"

I cringed, rubbing at my abused audio receptor. Must you bellow?

"How could you agree to such a thing!?" Thundercracker's optics were narrowed with fury, boring into my cranium as I avoided looking at him directly. "Primus, 'Screamer, you don't speak for us all."

I lifted my optics to regard him coolly. Are you challenging my command?

"When we're all sitting in a brig? Frag yes."

I smirked a little. You aren't of much interest to Prime and his lackeys. It's my knowledge they're looking for. If I provide them with important information in exchange for repairs, then two problems are solved at once. I have no intention to return to Megatron, thus the information will benefit us by sharing it.

"And you're just going to betray the others like that?" Thundercracker's gaze was intense and angry. I found it rather amusing. Normally he cared as little for the others as I did. The only thing that mattered was our own team. On the other hand, he had been a very loyal Decepticon for a very long time, despite questions of his tendency to spare lives rather than take them. I myself had questioned on many occasions how pure of a warrior he was, but I had never been let down by his determination. On the other hand, now that I thought about it, the two of them had only been loyal in reality to me, and me alone. They took orders from Megatron, but if I chose to override those orders, they were there by my side in a heartbeat. I didn't ever think about it before, just took it for granted. Interesting that I should suddenly note it now. "Do you expect us to stay by your side?"

I lifted my gaze to stare at him appraisingly. He wasn't angry anymore, but rather speculatively staring at me. He was weighing my reaction. I don't expect anything. You can do as you like.

His optics narrowed. "You do realize we risked everything to save your worthless aft? And you expect us to just leave? After everything that's happened here?" I avoided his gaze sullenly annoyed at his pestering questions. "No…" He mused. "I see you don't expect it, you just think you an handle it yourself like you always do." He snorted. "Well you won't be rid of us that easy. If these slag-heads are willing to be decent then we're staying till you're ready to fly again. We can worry about breaking out later." I tried to glare at him, but only received a smirk in return. "Deal with it."

You're beginning to sound like a fraggin' Autobot.

"And what's wrong with that?" Thundercracker shot back angrily. "You know, for so long we've been fighting enjoying it together. But when you get down to it, is there any real difference between OUR side and THEIR side?"

They're weak soft-hearted fools who protect humans. Are you really serious?

"Protecting the defenseless isn't being weak." Thundercracker said darkly. "Do you know how long I've wanted to say something about how the Decepticons don't seem to care that they frag up the humans at every turn? I don't find any honor or glory in crushing helpless creatures less powerful than us. It's embarrassing." He frowned darkly. "But if I ever mentioned that I'd have ended up in your shoes faster than you can say Megatron. Besides, if you think standing up for the weak is stupid, you're a fraggin' hypocrite. Remember the time 'Warp got really fragged up on that spiked energon and that group tried to rob us back at the Academy? Who stood up for someone who couldn't defend themselves then?" I grit my teeth but avoided his searing gaze. "There IS no difference between us, just some invisible dividing line someone drew long ago cause it was convenient to use in order to pit us against them. The only difference is Megatron could care less about us, or anyone else but himself. That's why so many of us die in the field. Our first two team mates died during the first battle, remember that? Did Megatron care one iota? No. He didn't even NOTICE. But we cared didn't we?" His optics bore into me furiously. "So how does that make us different from the Autobots. They care about their warriors too. They're damn good fighters to boot. I don't see the difference. Megatron's cause stopped being noble eons ago. I won't care if we give it up. It's stupid and pointless with Cybertron in ruins. Now he's just out to kill just for the sake of killing, not for any grand cause."

His words should have instilled anger within me, should have enraged me for speaking out against our leader, our commander, the one who had recruited us all, the one who had led us to greatness.

But was it really greatness?

I had hidden the truth deep within for so long that even I had believed the rhetoric that had been spun about our great and noble cause. It had been great once… the glory had faded along with the gleaming lights of Iacon City when it had burned to the ground at our hands. All we ever brought about was destruction, not revolution. I had blinded myself to that fact because I was so set on taking over, on replacing Megatron. Why? I thought it had been simply to feel powerful, to be respected… but now I began to question if that was the real reason.

What if I had just wanted to put an end to the madness and rebuild what we had lost? Was that weak, or was it simply survival?

"I think we need to stop looking at things in black and white, 'Screamer." Thundercracker was saying, interrupting my thoughts. "Us versus Them isn't going to work anymore. We're branded now. Anytime we show our faces we're gonna get the same fire that the Autobots get. So where does that put us? We're as good as Autobots right now anyway. If we go out on our own we're slagged since they outnumber us badly. But if we stick with someone who can work with us, we're stronger for it. And we can still be involved instead of running and hiding our afts, which I honestly don't relish the idea of having to do, how about you?"

Not particularly.

"So we got some choices here don't we? Go out on our own and be slagged, go back to Megatron and be slagged, stay here and be a little less slagged to start with. What's the worst they can do? They're not like Decepticons, they won't torture us or kill us, they'll just keep us locked up here indefinitely."

That might be a fate worse than death. We're fliers.

"You're not gong to be flying anytime soon, Screamer."

Prime agreed to repair me if I co-operate.

"So why not? What's the harm in letting them know what we know? It's not like we're protecting secrets anymore. The Decepticons are going to kill us whether we spill secrets or not. They don't care. They'll just hate us more if we betray them after they kicked us out, and honestly I can't see how it can get any worse than a death warrant. Besides, they're probably going to change all the codes anyway if they haven't already, so any advantage won't last long."

I was silent for a while, thinking this over. Thundercracker had a good point, and it was obvious he'd been holding this up inside him for some time now, unwilling to voice his opinions before, now freed by our new status as refugees. I wouldn't mind seeing Megatron suffer at the hands of those who he tossed out like garbage. I growled tersely. It would be aptly fitting.

One problem guys. Came a rather groggy addition to the conversation. Obviously Skywarp wasn't as out of it as we'd thought. The Autobots hate our fraggin' afts as much as we hate them. I just can't see us all sitting down around a few cubes to talk out our differences then hugging like we're all buddies. Ain't gonna happen.

I sighed. He was right, but right now I was so drained that I didn't care. It seemed like forever since I had been carefree just those few days ago, enjoying life pretending I was someone else. For those brief moments I had forgotten everything. I was another mech, someone different without the burdens weighing down my soul. It had been nice to be accepted even tentatively among those who weren't sure who I was yet. It reminded me of the past, before this fraggin' war started.

And Thundercracker had noticed. "You're different, Screamer." He said quietly. "You've changed."

I shot him a glance but it lacked the mirth and scathing glare that it normally had. I'm tired, that's all.

"No, it's more than that." He murmured more to himself than anything. "You're CALM. I've never seen you sit still and shut up for more than an astrosecond since the Academy, you're always trying to prove yourself, not to us anymore, but to everyone else." Thundercracker's optics bore down on me with a fierce light. "You've lost your edge."

I bristled. How dare you…!

"Oh don't blast your burners." He rolled his optics. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Primus help us all your voice shutting up is silence enough."

My optics narrowed in anger, though I knew my wing mate was just trying to rattle my cage and poke fun at my situation. Once I'm repaired I will be better than before. And I will make you pay for that comment.

"Yeah, yeah, sure you will." Thundercracker turned and collapsed on the floor in a sitting position, leaning against the wall to get comfortable. "Night, 'Screamer."

Don't call me that!

"Night."

The silence hung in the air like thick molasses. I watched the medic as he studied the read-outs on the screen, then my optics slid to my 'honorary guard' posted inside the door. Both Red Alert and Bluestreak were glaring at me with unbidden animosity. Not that I blamed them. Out of all of them, those two had been more open to me as 'Skyfire'. They felt personally betrayed, it seemed. Idiots. I gave them a sarcastic smirk if only to rile them up, knowing they had been ordered not to touch me. Their glares deepened to my satisfaction, and I turned back to watch Ratchet at work. Well? I demanded impatiently. Can you do it?

Ratchet glanced over his shoulder at me with narrow critical eyes. "I can give you a re-build, but I'm not sure I can mimic the precise technology that your fellows employ. I don't have the parts needed to replace some of your critical systems." He turned back to the schematics, and ran a finger along the lines. "I can get enough metal to rebuild your armor and structure, and I wager I can fashion functioning wings for you, but you're going to have to help me reconstruct the details." His optics slid back to me, studying me carefully. "I've never repaired a flier before, I must warn you."

I sighed. I had counted on this, actually. Though I felt a twinge of regret knowing that I would never be the same, it also sent a thrill of exhilaration through me.

Was this a fresh start?

I can walk you through the diagnostics. I have a fair idea how my systems worked. I offered, slowly approaching the screen to stare at the numbers and diagrams. Ratchet watched me warily out of the corner of his optics. I ignored him. I wanted to make some alterations anyway. I sent. He blinked at me, startled. I spared him a sidelong glance. Is it so surprising? How often does one get the chance to upgrade oneself? Besides… if I look different it will confuse the enemy at first. It could work to our advantage.

Ratchet studied me carefully, then pushed a button. The diagnostics cleared, and a blank file appeared. "Well, show me what you have in mind then."

As I was already connected through the broadcast link, it was a simple process to simply switch to my data processors and download everything that I had carefully drafted in my head. Once the download was complete I studied the screen with the medic. Already I saw things that wouldn't work, things that weren't functionally possible and would have to be revised. But overall I liked the concept. It was sleeker, more aerodynamic, and much improved to my old model. And it would set me apart from my brothers… Like the leader I was. It was an entire rebuild in essence, though there were similar traits. I instantly liked it.

"I want to know something." Ratchet spoke up suddenly. I glanced at him warily bracing myself for the inevitable questions I knew were going to come out. "How did you know that supplementing your own spark energy to Skywarp's would save his life? I've heard rumors of some mechs trying that as a last resort on the battlefield, but never heard of it actually WORKING." Ratchet eyed me critically. "Not raw unfiltered spark energy. It's incompatible with any mech other than the one the spark is formed for. So how did you three manage to stabilize him and HOW did you know it would work?"

I didn't. I said simply, for once relieved that I didn't have to lie. Call me crazy, and I know you do, slagger, but I had no clue it would work.

"I believe you." Ratchet said after a moment eyeing me warily. "But what I want to know is where you heard that you could do that. Channeling raw spark energy between the three of you… that's out of my grasp of medical knowledge."

I simply shrugged wordlessly. I wasn't about to tell him anyway, besides… he wouldn't have believed me.

"Why?" He demanded testily. "Why did you do it? Why did you seek us out and ask for help, why did you pretend to be someone else, and now why are you still here?"

I shuttered my optics. Of all the questions to ask… I was injured. I knew you wouldn't help me if I lay myself on your doorstep proclaiming my loyalties and undying affections for the Decepticon cause…

"Enough." Ratchet said softy, silencing me in that unnerving way he often held. It was far more powerful than Megatron's influence, in it's own way. "I know when I'm being lied to. You used to be an excellent liar, everyone knows that. But now I can read right through you. Something else happened." His optics studied my silent form. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

Enjoyed WHAT exactly, Autoscum?

"Enjoyed being part of a community. Accepted. I wonder if you were ever that among your fellows." I shot him a death glare and turned my back on him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my expression. He seemed to guess anyway. "You did enjoy it. I could tell. You smiled. You laughed. You joked. It's hard to fake that, especially for a Decepticon. Perceptor and Wheeljack shared how much they enjoyed working with you. They considered you a friend."

So how long have you KNOWN who I am, doc? I allowed myself a smirk when he froze.

He shot me a look but then answered the question calmly. "Since I first saw the damage to your body, I knew. I've never repaired a Seeker before, but I knew well enough what to look for in diagnostics. Weaponry mounted on the arms, wing joints severed on your back, thrusters in your feet… Add that to the fact that I hadn't heard any of your latest antics drawing attention. No one saw you that entire time, though I heard reports of your fellows in action. However, I didn't know for certain until I found this." My optics slid over unbidden to see what he was holding. My spark just about seized. Primus… I'd forgotten. The tiny golden light glittered off the object in his hand and I looked away quickly feeling unbidden emotions surge up. "When did you get this?" Ratchet's voice was soft and almost gentle, not accusing. "I imagine it had to have been before the war… and yet you've kept it all this time." At my silence he turned the object over studying it in his hand. "We never think about our lives before the war. None of us do. We never stop to think that everyone had lives, duties, families even." He set the item down on the computer console and slid it closer to my hand. "We lose ourselves in the conflict… we don't often get a chance to go back to that life, Starscream. I urge you to give that some consideration."

He said nothing more on the subject, but it wasn't long before my hand slid over and grasped the small gold object and brought it up to my optics to stare at it's familiar scored surface. It was the only thing that I had carried with me all this time, and it had suffered the same battle scars I had… and survived. The words however were still easy to read engraved on the surface with an ornate symbol. "Cybertron Science Award"… the highest honor one could ever receive in that field, embellished with my name and one other… Skyfire.

I grasped it tightly to my chassis.

"Now, if you want me to start installing components you'll need to lay down on the table." I slid the medallion carefully back into my storage compartment, empty of the spare pistol that I usually carried. They had made sure I was completely defenseless. Not that it mattered anymore. I slid my body onto the table and lay down obediently much to Ratchet's surprise. "Well that was easier than I expected, though I assume you'd rather be fixed than not." He mused. "I'm going to do the basics first, starting with your vocal processors. I managed to construct a new unit, since your old one was completely toast. I couldn't even salvage any spare parts from it, it was so melted." I winced. Great. A new vocalizer meant the voice wouldn't be MINE anymore… it would be some other voice that tried to mimic mine. Sure I could program it to sound close to my old one but it would never be exactly the same. After all, my old vocalizer had been through much abuse at the hands of my commander, it was why my voice sounded so screechy all the time. However, seeing as I had no choice in the matter, I felt it wasn't necessary to make a comment, and just lay there in silence as he leaned over my frame and began to tinker with the neck joint to pull the plating off. As he worked, two sapphire optics studied me closely. "You're being awfully co-operative about all this. Why?"

I need the repairs. I replied simply, trying my best to appear bored. Do you even know how insufferably horrid it is to be grounded when you're a flier?

"I've heard rumors that some Seekers have gone mad while imprisoned during the war." Ratchet mused. "While I'm no psychologist I imagine that has something to do with the fact you're so used to the freedom of the skies."

Exactly. I sent wryly. A Seeker without wings is a failure. You will repair them as soon as possible.

"That isn't up to you." Ratchet said calmly, prodding a bit too hard in my vocal lines causing me to wince. "Wings unfortunately are going to be the last thing I install. First I need to fit you for armor plating according the specs you want, provide the upgrades and install new weaponry, though they will be disabled until further notice."

Naturally.

"Then the last thing I can install are your wings. The rest of the exoskeleton must be re-enforced to accept the added strain. And according to your specs you want a few specialty parts that will take time in coming. It's going to be a long time until you fly again, Starscream." I let out a sigh of frustration, causing Ratchet to smack me hard on the head. "Hold still. You can still hover if it bugs you so much. Thrusters keep you airborne without your wings."

It's not the same.

"I'm sure it's not, but you will just learn to deal with it for now." A click and hiss sent a spark of pain down my throat and I fought not to make any motion, though the sudden blinking green light in the right corner of my display told me that a new part had successfully been installed and needed to be initialized. "All right. New vocalizer installed. Now you'll need to calibrate it yourself, so I'm putting you on assignment to start using it. It's going to hurt a bit while it adjusts, so you're just going to have to push through it to get it working right. In the meantime I'm going to start constructing the armor plating you need."

I sat up rubbing at my throat and lightly cleared it. It rumbled dryly in a deeper voice than I was used to, but at least it functioned. Thankfully I wouldn't have to resort to silent communications anymore. "Thank you." I growled out with some difficulty, the voice low and scratchy, very mechanized and nothing at all like my old voice. But it was a voice. It felt delightful to speak again.

"You're welcome. Now I have work to do. You can go with them." He pointed at the Red and Blue morons guarding the door.

I permitted myself a smirk and slid off the bed to approach the two guards.

The walk back to my cell was very long indeed. Red Alert and Bluestreak were uncommonly silent, which was unusual for the latter. My identity had hit the base like a bomb. The Autobots felt resentment and anger that I had somehow managed to deceive them from the truth. They had no idea how dangerous of a line I had walked for my own neck. Would they have given me the same care if they knew who I was? Doubtful. I found myself missing that poker game a little as I strode back into my cell, the bars fizzling back into place as I slipped into the corner to settle comfortably. The one positive side to having no wings was that I could lay down in any position now. Before, special recharge berths had to accommodate Seeker wings, wider and bulkier to make room for our form. When we lay down we had to do so on our backs or on our fronts. It was strange therefore being able to curl up in any position that I found comfortable. Thundercracker was in recharge already, and did not wake up at my approach. Skywarp had been released from Ratchet's bay, and was laying on his back on the floor recharging peacefully. His patches still shone brightly in the faint florescent glow of the energon bars. It was good to see my brothers relaxing in such calm states. Normally we didn't intrude upon each other's recharge cycles back on base, though there was the occasional time when we got so slagged on high grade that we ended up in one common room with each other. Still… I felt oddly protective of them. Not only had they both risked everything to save me, to deliver me to safe hands that could repair me, but now they shared my fate: exile. We were not Decepticons any longer, doomed to the loneliness of no faction at all, sought after by both unless we made a choice.

It was up to me to make that choice.

The truth was I wished it weren't on my shoulders. But then, ever since we had been comrades I had taken point and given them direction. Thundercracker was never hesitant to offer his insight, often a rational method of thought compared to my rather whimsical unstable side. Skywarp didn't care one way or the other, as long as he got to blast things. We were definitely the motley crew of misfits among the Decepticons. We didn't fit in, and relished in that fact.

So would it be so different here?

Don't get me wrong, I had no desire to join the Autobot cause and take up their banner. However, working with them to take down Megatron was becoming increasingly appealing. We could use the help, no doubt about it, and the ability to at least attempt to start over, to leave that despicable mech I had become behind… If we could take him down, I could take over the Decepticons… and if I could take them over, then we could end this fragging war and, Primus forbid, co-operate to rebuild Cybertron. I would become the leader I deserved, and do something productive with my power to put us in a better position. True, peace with the Autobots seemed a laughable situation right now, but I was beginning to see why they strove to fight for peace… they too were tired of the battles.

I cringed. Yes, it affected me. I never let it show normally of course but where was the need for acting behind bold bravado right now? No one was watching except perhaps the paranoid security officer. Yes, I was ashamed of what I'd become. Again, I'd never let it show in front of anyone, not even my brothers, but it existed. I was not completely cold-sparked. The insanity tugging at my processors threatening to unseat the small smidgeon of stability I had manage to grasp onto was threatening to take over once more, and it was dragging me down into a pit of despair that I hadn't seen in ages. I had NEVER felt sorry for myself since before I'd joined the Decepticons… when I'd lost….

I shuttered and silenced that train of thought. I had dug up enough old memories for the time being I didn't need to resurface others. Instead, I did my best to attempt a recharge.

Unfortunately it was plagued by memories of things past.