A/N: Well, here's Chapter 8 for your reading enjoyment. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Don't own TFs; Hasbro does.

Chapter Eight: Shared Hauntings

"You're lying!"

Starscream growled in irritation and he held the bridge of his nose in one clawed hand.

"I don't believe you!" Dezba lashed out in anger. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her face was flushed to a bright, burning red, and her black locks hung in tangled webs framing the intense sadness within her hazel eyes.

"Believe what you will, human, but the fact remains," Starscream hissed, "you're still here with us."

Starscream's words rang with finality in Dezba's mind. If she had thought her meeting with Thundercracker went a little rough, her meeting with Starscream was a wild ride through a minefield. After getting over her shock of Thundercracker actually saying her name in a halfway decent manner, she had taken his advice and gotten some sleep. Sometime later, Barricade had entered the med bay to summon her to see Starscream. Of course to Dezba, this was the first time she had actually seen the intimidating cop cruiser, and she wasn't about to trust him with open arms. However, she was still feeling stiff and sore from her injuries and didn't have much of a choice when the mech had grabbed her rather unceremoniously and had carried her out into the corridors. She had been taken to a large room filled with equipment she could only guess did Lord knew what and had been dropped right into the middle of the floor (all of which wasn't too good on the ribs). Barricade left directly after. The one called Starscream (whom she quickly found out had doctored her) immediately began an interrogation, not unlike the one Thundercracker had given her. She had answered his questions pretty much the same, but left out the particular tidbit that the large blue jet had "requested" she not mention. In fact, just as he had asked, she neglected to mention anything about the conversation she had had earlier. The thought of why she still did that haunted her mind. At the end of his questioning, the Decepticon leader had stated flatly that she had been declared dead among her people, and her mother had been killed in a car accident. As proof of his statement he had played the radio broadcast recorded by Skywarp.

It was the most crushing blow she had ever received, mental or physical: the death of her mother. "Why…but how!? She was taken! Nothing is making sense anymore! Why is this happening, please, tell me!" she wailed. Grief continued to flood her eyes, her body racked by harsh sobs. Dezba then fell to her knees, not caring about her current predicament. In fact, she wished with all her heart and soul that these beings would see fit to waste her then and there, completing what the agents had intended so long before.

Her mind tried desperately to process what the beige Seeker had said. Was it really true? But how? Why? She thought she was the one that was supposed to have been killed, not her mother. Was it really an accident? And what of her stepfather? Did he still live? Or was he still being held? Her thoughts drifted to happier times she had shared with her family.

Her and her mother had always been exceptionally close even after her father's death and the remarriage. They had shared so many secrets, so many happy occasions and now, none of that would ever happen again. Like a slap to the face, one memory stung her mind with the intensity of a thousand hornets, the memory Thundercracker had shown her. A fresh river of tears sprang forth and Dezba felt an intense hurt deep within her soul and within her mind. She suddenly saw flashes of that strange landscape that had haunted her dreams her first night with the Decepticons, only this time she saw robots scattered across it, as if a great battle had taken place. Dezba felt like she was on a train, speeding by the landscape, catching glimpses of individuals she had never seen before. Howls of pain and mourning pummeled her mind, she clearly saw death, pain and sorrow in each metal figure that flashed by. Then with a blur of black fog, the strange images vanished. And once again she felt the weight of her own loss.

Starscream stood to one side, observing the girl with a calloused eye. Then, in the midst of her sorrow and pain, Starscream saw a strange thing begin to occur. Dezba's hazel eyes turned an icy blue-white. Her broken English sobs turned into ancient Cybertronian chanting, a death song that Starscream had not heard in millennia. He stared in absolute shock, now witnessing first -hand what Thundercracker had reported. The song was filled with agony and pain, the likes of which he had only ever heard on the battlefield. The song continued for at least three minutes and as quickly as it began, it ended. The human's eyes returned to their natural color and she slowly sank to the floor, crying quietly.

With the strange phenomena over with, Starscream saw that he would not be getting any further in his interrogation today; the human had degenerated into a sobbing, watery flesh pile. But she had left him with plenty to contemplate. With his CPU still spinning over the recent event, he commed Barricade to inform him that the prisoner was ready for her cell.

The black and white interceptor entered the communications room only to be assailed by more cries of sorrow coming from the deranged girl. With utter disgust dripping from his optics, he picked the weeping mass up and carried her from the room.

Starscream watched him depart, wondering if telling the human about her and her mother's sudden death was such a good revelation. The outbreak of Cybertronian death chanting had been completely unexpected; she didn't seem as if she'd be stable ever again. Oh well, only time would tell. If she became a liability, he could always finish what the agents had begun. But for now, he had opened up the prime window of opportunity to pull her closer to his side, to earn her trust and figure out this mysterious gift. If and when she got over her grief, he would cultivate her desire for revenge and use it to his own advantage.


It had been one long day for Thundercracker. After leaving Dezba in the medbay, he had gone to fetch his daily energon ration and then retired to his quarters to mull over all that Dezba had told him. He was certain that her assailants were the same ones that had tried to pass her off as dead as well as killed her mother. The reports had stated that her mother had been in a car accident, but everything seemed…too coincidental. If she had been taken by these men, then where was the report of their deaths or injuries? There weren't any, only the mother. Therefore, he knew foul play was at hand.

Tiredly, Thundercracker reached over and finished off his energon cube. Why was this bothering him anyway? Why did he care who killed who for what reason? What gain was there in this whole situation for him? These questions plagued him until he decided to try and get some recharge. He stood up from his desk, turned and was about to settle on his berth when a flash of pain struck him in the CPU.

"Aaarrgghh!" The burly jet fell to his knees, his wings clipping the wall and adding to the pain. An image flashed across his mind, the image that he had shown the human only a few cycles ago. The pain grew almost unbearable; it felt as if someone were beating him upside the helm with a sledge hammer. More images flooded his CPU, images that he had never seen before, images of mechs and femmes crying out in pain. A battlefield image assaulted him, as if he was there witnessing the carnage in real time. Then Thundercracker realized this was the first battle of their Great War.

He clutched his head growling in agony and frustration. Gusts of hot air flowed from his intakes; his interior cooling fans hummed madly trying to chill his overheating systems. Where in the name of Primus was this coming from!?

The pain slowly subsided, leaving in its wake a thick black fog. A deep sadness overpowered his thought processes. Its presence foreign, yet familiar. For some reason, Thundercracker had an overwhelming urge to check on the human. He sensed that she was the cause for this malignant suffering.

Wobbling unsteadily and still slightly pain-drunk, he staggered to the door determined to figure out what in the Pit was wrong. As he entered the corridors he heard crying in the distance. He followed the sobbing sounds, coming to a solid metal door after a few astroseconds. What in the name of Primus? There was no way he could have heard those sounds all the way back to his quarters from here, even with his keen hearing.

He opened the heavy door, its hinges creaking loudly. There in one of the makeshift cells of the bunker lay Dezba Collins.


Dezba never really felt Barricade carry her from the communications room, nor did she feel him tossing her into a cold, dank holding cell. She only felt sorrow, pain and grief. She lay on the dank floor, prone on her stomach with her arms wrapped around her head. Her eyes were raw and puffy from tears and her face glistened in the feeble light. She was truly alone; her father was dead and now, so was her mother (if Starscream was to be believed).

She did not know how long she had been laying there when she felt a powerful and assertive presence flood her mind. Not several seconds later, the door to her prison chamber opened revealing Thundercracker's broad form. He strode to the bars, covering the distance in three great strides and gazed down at her prone figure. As she looked up into his optics, Dezba could have sworn she saw pity flash within their red depths for the briefest moment. The giant blue Eagle knelt down to be more at her level and Dezba quickly struggled to her hands and knees, backing away into a corner.

It was within those cell walls that Thundercracker discovered he now shared more with this human than just a simple memory. He could literally feel the raw fear, sorrow, angst, and anger radiating from the tiny human, buffeting his mind as waves pound the seashore during a storm. It was a sensation he had never felt before.

"You know I will not harm you," he stated simply.

"I know," she whispered, turning her head away. With her black hair hanging to her shoulders, her upper body almost blended into the walls. "I just want to be left alone."

Thundercracker pondered her answer then chose his next words with caution. "Do you know why I'm here?"

Many minutes rolled by and Thundercracker felt that she had chosen to ignore him. It was taking all his self restraint to not go back on his word, and throttle the girl. He hated being ignored. Then a thought occurred to him; maybe, if he could feel her thoughts then maybe she could feel his. It would be worth a shot, given her decrepit condition. He closed his optics and concentrated on his thoughts. Soundwave should be doin' this sort of thing, not me, he thought with irony. Tentatively, he reached out to the girl.

Dezba jerked as if a whip had slashed her across the back. That strange, assertive presence brushed her mind again. She recoiled from it, but it held a hint of familiarity. Dezba?

With shocked eyes, she stared up at the Decepticon in front of her prison. "Thundercracker?" she whispered questioningly.

He opened his optics and met her bewildered hazel eyes. Slowly, she crawled from her corner and sat cross-legged before him. Her tear-stained face gazed into his crimson optics. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" the Con replied, a sly grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. She stared at him, mouth open. "I was hoping that you could explain it to me," he added.

"What do you mean I could explain it to you?" She took the back of her hand and wiped her eyes, trying hard to pay attention to what Thundercracker was telling her. This strange new development had temporarily stemmed her grief.

He paused, trying hard to figure out the best way to phrase what he wanted to say. "I believe we now have more in common than just a simple memory exchange," Thundercracker explained. Her bewildered expression amused him, as he continued his explanation. "I can feel your thoughts, Dezba Collins, as I'm sure you can feel my own." His words ended in a harsh whisper.

"How," came her simple question.

"I don't have the answer, only that while I was in my quarters a few breems ago, I was overwhelmed by these thoughts, images and emotions that were not my own. One image in particular came to me in clarity—the one I had shown you. I knew you were linked to this happening."

"I don't know what to say. What can I say," she stated evenly, her eyes lowering to the ground. She fiddled her fingers trying to think of what else to say. After a moment she spoke again. "What else did you see?"

His blood-colored optics bore into her as he made his reply. "I saw Cybertron, my home planet, and the very first battle that sparked our War. I saw mechs and femmes screaming in agony from their battle wounds and felt their pain." He lowered his optics, trying to douse the memory. Her next reply regained his attention.

"I saw the same thing, too," Dezba murmured quietly. So that was his home planet that I saw in my first dream, she thought to herself.

You've seen my home world before?

She jumped at the sudden unasked question, looking at him in disbelief. "I told you I could feel your thoughts," he chuckled quietly and then grew solemn. He stood up, typed a code into a control panel, opened the cell, and then reached down an open hand to the girl. "Come. We have much to discuss."

She hesitated ever so slightly, then shakily rose to her feet and stepped into the proffered hand.