"First lesson of the ghost: the living can't feel you in any manner unless you want it to be so."
"Yes, I remember that. The flickering lights in the Axalon, condensing energy to be seen and felt, the combusting bush…" Dinobot answers, curious, as he finishes looking around the lifeless rocky valley.
They may be ghosts, but they can get hurt by energy, as demonstrated by the explosions they've been in and the thing with the lava to enter the Ark, so, to avoid any possible harm or simply so that no one gets in the way or spots them, they've moved to a secluded location not too far from the volcano.
Time to learn some more tricks.
"Precisely. And that brings us to lesson three."
He turns around at that, confused, but the Seeker is still sitting on a rock in complete calm.
"Three? What happened to two?"
"You have already mastered it."
"Really?" He asks, startled, and moving closer when the amused Flier gestures for him to.
"Yes, of course. How do you think we're still alight? Lesson number two is that you can get energy from your surroundings. My spark does that automatically, self-sustaining from minute radiation, from heat to actual energy like fire or electricity. You, on the other servo, need a more condensed source to consciously draw power from."
"Like the lava. Or the temporal anomaly." He finishes, understanding dawning on him, and Starscream nods.
"Or my own spark, yes. Though you haven't directly taken from me yet, because I'm leaking my energy to you instead, but it's another possibility. If you try to do that, however, I'll cut all links and let you extinguish." The smirk given at the end is a clear threat even without the words.
Dinobot snorts, unimpressed.
Oh, Starscream won't hesitate to do so, no doubt, but it isn't like the Predacon would be stupid enough to just pull energy out of the Seeker without good reason, and, besides, it isn't as if he had known about that before.
"Alright, so I can get extra energy from outside sources. That would allow me to be seen, wouldn't it?"
"Or to interact with our surroundings. I wasn't seen when I dealt with the shield, yet I was carrying more than enough energy to overload it."
"Acquired through me." He snarls, but the Flier waves a servo dismissively as he leans back on thin air with a smirk.
"It was the fastest way to build up the necessary level. Now, back to our lesson." Dinobot nods, letting the previous topic slide. "You asked me how I managed to be unaffected despite Galvatron shooting at me."
"I would have asked, but you didn't let me."
"But you were going to, so mute it and let me explain." When the Predacon sits down on some rocks in front of the Decepticon, the Seeker waves a servo—
And there are suddenly two Starscreams sitting side by side, one on the rocks and the other, with paler color scheme and vaguely translucent, on thin air.
Dinobot feels his jaw slowly fall open, but, after a moment, his optics widen in realization.
"An illusion. You're channeling the extra energy into an image of yourself rather than making yourself visible."
"You learn fast." The Flier purrs, pride clear in his voice and optics, as both the real and the faux nod in assent. "Yes, that is precisely what I'm doing. I had even some special 'sparkly' effects to accentuate the 'apparitions', sometimes I even added some 'shimmering' sounds, if I was really in the mood, but, essentially, it all boils down to manipulating energy outside rather than inside." A wave of a servo, and the mirage fades out of existence with the described effects and vague sound. "I'm not really sure you could pull that off, though. After all, it isn't like anyone other than myself ever tried it, and I'm beginning to think a spark like yours won't be able to manipulate your surroundings as I do."
"A spark like mine? What does that mean?" He growls, insulted, and the Decepticon crosses his arms against his chest plates with a deadpanned look.
"A normal spark, one that should have extinguished when you deactivated."
"Oh."
"Right. So, even though that's how I used to trick Galvatron most of the time, I'm not really sure you could do it, so we'll focus on another way." The Flier adds after a moment, far more jovial than before as he claps his servos once and leans forward. "The other way I used is quite simple, and since it needs only yourself to pull it off, regardless of your interactive capabilities, I believe you'll manage. It consists, to put it simply, to rip a hole in yourself."
The wind, hotter than the cool air resulting of the shadows of the valley, whistles softly as it slithers through the rocks and lifts tiny clouds of dust, but it's the only sound for quite a bit.
"You are joking, right?"
Starscream snickers.
"I knew you'd say that. But no, I'm not. We're energy, are we not?" A nod. "So, it would be possible to change our forms to, say, resemble our late frames, right?" Another nod, because that's essentially what they're doing and the reason why Dinobot can see mechs instead of just sparks. "So, it would also be possible to make it so that those frames simply don't have their abdominal area."
And, like before, the Decepticon exemplifies by letting his own stomach disappear out of sight, only the thinnest margin of his sides connecting his upper and lower frame, but so little that it's barely visible.
Slowly, the Raptor's dumbfounded expression turns pensive.
"If you were to do that the moment you were shot, and if you adjusted the hole to the bullet, immediately reforming the missing part once the energy has gone past… You would be unaffected and thus support the idea that ghosts can't be harmed." He muses out loud, receiving another proud smile and a nod. "And you think I could pull that off. I can barely realize when I am overtly charged, let alone visible! How could I do that?"
"With practice. We can arrange a schedule, so that you don't forget about manipulation of our surroundings while still working on this. If you do master that, you can go around spooking Predacons without fearing being shot in response." The Seeker answers cheerfully, and Dinobot snorts at the possibility.
"That would actually be useful. I could distract them, giving the Maximals an edge… Wait. We could go trip their sensors, give them fake proximity alerts, thus forcing them to remain in base to defend themselves, while, actually, the Maximals are nowhere close." He suggests, receiving a thoughtful hum from the Flier.
"You know, that isn't a bad idea. We can do that when we take a break."
"What else? What else can you teach me? Is there any way to fight directly?"
"Directly? Well, if you were to harness enough energy, you could disrupt mechs, that's how my null-rays worked. And if you were to take enough of it, and condense it… Who knows? Maybe you could punch Megatron again." The Seeker's smirk tells him that he knows exactly what he's talking about, and Dinobot can't stop his own satisfied chuckling.
"That is what I'm talking about."
"Shall we begin?"
A nod, and, before he realizes it, the sun is long gone and the moon is shining down on them from amidst a sea of stars.
And the Predacon feels like dying all over again.
"You didn't say it would be this painful." He groans, lying on the ground and not moving in the slightest as he feels blazing tendrils rack his not-frame as his spark stabilizes again.
"Well, what did you expect? To master it the first time you tried? There were bound to be some energy distortion and snapping." The Decepticon answers in a grumble, sitting next to him and staring calmly at the dark sky. "Besides, it isn't as if that would have stopped you."
"It would have helped me know what to expect. I could have at least braced myself for those 'snaps'."
"For all the good it would have done you…"
"Slag you, Old Relic."
"You're signing your extinction, Sparkblade."
"For the last time, don't call me that!" His anger gives him enough strength to sit up, which makes him level with Starscream's deadpanned glare.
"I am not calling you after an Autobot division."
"You said—"
"That they were worthy adversaries, especially since they were newsparks and had to deal with the glitching Earth-made frames, and that their independence and strong will was admirable, but they were still Autobots. Besides, what you hate so much is your designation."
"So what? It's just a name." He hisses, resting against the rocky wall by his side and glaring hotly at the Flier.
"For you, maybe, but you're a Predacon. Your kind and the Maximals have lost a lot more than frame size since the war, but I seriously never thought you would lose that much." The Seeker groans tiredly, rubbing his faceplate with a servo with his optics offline. "A name is something to call yourself by, but that's just it. A designation, on the other servo, is what you are, it is a definition of your self. We've had this conversation before, haven't we?"
"Yes, but you're not changing my opinion."
And, with an annoyed snarl, the Decepticon stands up and begins to pace.
"An opinion, he says! As if there could ever be any doubt! Yes, use a nickname if you must, or if you'd like to, but, Primus! To refuse one's designation? That would be to refuse one's self!"
"Oh, come on." The Raptor whispers nonplussed, looking at the older ghost stomping silently on the rocky ground. "Aren't you exaggerating?"
"No, I'm not. What's so wrong about your designation? What's so wrong about yourself that you refuse to even hear it spoken aloud?" The Flier demands, stopping his pacing in front of the sitting Predacon to glare down at him.
"I do not like it, and that is it. I don't have to justify myself, least of all to a Decepticon centuries dead." He hisses back, fighting not to curl into himself at the intensity of the red optics boring into his, as if they could see right down to his very spark.
"Is it the Bestial coding?"
Dinobot flinches back as if struck, horror and fear distorting his faceplate and making him tremble, and Starscream steps back with an exhausted sigh, optics black once more and a blue servo covering his faceplate.
He should have seen this coming. Ghosts are but sparks, so of course the Seeker could actually see what is in his.
There's even a bond between them to sustain the Raptor, for crying out loud!
But none of that helps him stop shaking, or gives him the needed strength to uncurl, so Dinobot finds himself pressing further against rock and looking at the ground to avoid the judgmental glares, the terror, the disgust—
"I understand."
Two words. Two simple words, and the Raptor's frame freezes.
There's a soft magnetic caress when Starscream kneels down in front of him, but the Predacon doesn't look up.
"Look, I don't really know how it all changed at the end of the war, but back in the Golden Age, Bestials weren't that popular either, nor were warmechs. A Tread Roller like yourself, a Meteoroid Striker, being a Bestial? That scared a lot of mechs, especially those in power, because they didn't understand either warmechs or Bestials, so both? A nightmare." The trembling starts again, softer this time, but the soothing tone of the Seeker's voice doesn't change. "But there were others that did understand, and during the war it was made clear that those differences were meaningless, that the only thing that mattered was the mech itself. I suppose the Neutrals coming back, the lack of war and thus unneeded warmechs, brought all that back, rekindling those Golden Age prejudices. After all, history always repeats itself."
Silence dawns on them again, and, even then, Dinobot finds himself unable to look away from the ground.
A soft sigh, and Starscream shifts to be sitting down.
"Ravage was a Bestial."
That stills the Predacon once more, optics widening.
But he doesn't look up.
He can't.
He can't face whatever he'll see, even if he knows that Starscream cared for Ravage, for his brothers, for the other Decepticons, and of course there would be Bestials there, but it was war.
"Do you know what your designation tells me?"
Silence.
"It tells me you would never harm your people."
The Raptor snorts softly at that, curling tighter.
Starscream shifts, but he doesn't look up.
"A sparkblade is part of a mech, an ingrained defense mechanism, that adapts to the wielder, and to no one else. Isn't that right?"
After a moment of silence, Dinobot realizes the Flier is actually waiting for an answer, so he tenses a bit more, but nods nevertheless.
"Then, according to that, you are not only an essential part of something bigger, but also a protector, a warrior, someone that once he has found what is worthy, will protect it at all costs, with all of himself, and allow no one else to tamper with him."
"Megatron manipulated me quite easily, and more than once." He growls back, guilt and hatred in his voice, and he can feel Starscream nod.
"Perhaps, but no one's invincible. Besides, you never allowed him to knowingly play you, did you? You joined him for the Predacons, to help your people, and as soon as it was revealed he wasn't worthy to do so, you left him. When your doubts wavered, you were still acting on behalf of the Predacons, and when you found out the Maximals mattered too, that the plan would put them also in danger, you acted. You may have been misguided, lost, blinded by the possibilities, but never once did you betray your people."
Didn't I?
The barracks of the Defense Force, the clear differentiation between Maximal and Predacon, the closed areas, the harshness of the lower classes, the glint in red optics before the betrayal is revealed, the spiral of ripped time continuum…
No. I didn't.
"Now, will you tell me the real reason?"
Only then does Dinobot notice that he's uncurled and stopped trembling, sitting more comfortably against the rock.
And, before he realizes it, he's looking into warm red optics and a calm faceplate, patiently waiting for an answer in silent support.
"I'm a Bestial. A beast, a monster. A danger."
Starscream looks away, servos clenching on his legs with an almost audible groan of metal as he takes some deep breaths.
And the Raptor shrinks away once more.
"You didn't have a mentor." It's not a question, but Dinobot nods minutely nevertheless. "What about your creators?"
"They… didn't want me around."
"None of them were Bestials themselves."
"No…"
"Slag it all." And, finally, Starscream looks up, and the Predacon doesn't see hatred or disgust in his expression, but determination and protectiveness. "And slag them. Bestials aren't more dangerous than your average Road Runner, if they know how to filter stimuli, just like any other warmech, like any other mech. The Senate never understood that, and it looks like your Councils don't either."
"What… What are you…"
"You aren't a danger, least of all a monster. You just needed someone to teach you. A Flier can learn how to fly on his own, but with another to monitor and teach him, it goes a lot faster and smoother. And the same applies to every other mech in any other position. However, if you've been dealing with such prejudice all your function, I'm… not surprised you ended as you did." The Seeker shakes his helm slowly, getting rid of the remaining anger. "Look, I know it's late and I am not a Bestial, but, if you're willing, I may be able to teach you a thing or two."
And Dinobot can only gape.
But the optics, the spark he can feel connected to his own, are sincere.
Starscream is sincere.
Just like he has always been, even if at times he didn't tell the whole truth or was vague enough to give the impression of something different than what he was actually saying.
So, Dinobot feels himself shivering once more, a soft whimper blocking his voice box despite no longer having one.
"Come here, Sparkblade."
Releasing the tiny keen, the Raptor lets himself be pulled into a hug without protest.
AN: That... turned a lot more angsty and fluffy than I expected O.o
Well, I think that covers all the missing points in regards to explanations, with why a ghost that can be affected by energy wasn't damaged in the third season of G1 and the Sparkblade 'nickname', so... yeah.
Sorry about the out-of-character-ness and liberal use of headcanon information here XP