Intermission 8

He Is Not One of Us

"Born in grief, raised in hate, helpless to defy his fate, let him run, let him live, but do not forget what we cannot forgive, and he is not one of us"

Starscream growled lowly as he powered up his thrusters. He went as high into the atmosphere as he could to disguise himself since he could not transform. His exposed shoulder sparked and pain flared in his wings as he flew. Megatron's punishment and Prime's unexpected viciousness in battle was taking its toll.

He flew out of the human city Megatron had dragged him to after the death of the Prime and into a forest. A different one since he was quite certain the Autobots would be swarming the one where they had left the body of their precious Prime. He needed time and space to think and reattach his arm.

It was slow going since he only knew how to do field repairs. He could stop the flow of energon and turn off the pain receptors, but nothing else. The arm itself would just have to wait until he could swallow his pride and go back to Megatron and that little scraplet he called a medic.

Starscream shook his head and looked around him. Here he was, crouching in the dirt of some far distant organic planet, trying to patch a wound that would just add to the absurd number if scars he already had. How had he fallen so far?

He remembered the charismatic gladiator that had called for equality, remembered thinking that he was a mech to be trusted and believed and perhaps he had been, back when their planet was healthy and bright.

Starscream remembered that Cybertron, missed that Cybertron. Back when he was crown prince of Vos with a science degree and the world at his pedes. He had been idealistic then, naive to the point of stupidity in some cases. The mech missed the simplicity of those days when he was the fastest flyer to be sparked and had nothing to worry about except which planet to study next.

The Air Commander's wings twitched, the pain reminding him of the claw marks left there. The Decepticon symbol branded onto his wings caught his attention as he looked back at them. How he regretted taking that brand and oath. He could break it, of course, but to do that would be to break his last tie to his home. Seekers had a certain brand of honor, a code that he could not bring himself to break, even to go against a lunatic like Megatron. He had taken an oath of loyalty and the only way to break it was if he ended the mech that holds it, hence all the assassination attempts he had made.

Megatron had been a good leader once, honest and true, much like the Prime he had once served. He had wanted equality once, rights for the poor mechs, 'empties' they had been called. It was ironic that so many nobles like Starscream flocked to Megatron while the truly poor that he had wanted to help turned to the Autobots. Perhaps that was the first sign that this war was doomed from the start.

Perhaps they had all been judged and found wanting, prompting a mass extermination of their race.

Starscream snorted at that, refusing to consider how human that gesture was. He was far too calculating, too scientific and analytical for such speculation. And he had a hard time believing in something so divine as Primus. He had been a scientist for a reason. He enjoyed picking things apart, figuring out the how and why. Everything but himself, that is.

Starscream had a high opinion of himself, he knew that. The thing was, he also had all the genius and tactical skill to back it up.

Starscream also had some sort of a self-preservation instinct and it was that that told him he had already lingered too long. His lord (even after countless millennia the title still left a bad taste in his mouth) had a temper and he did not wish to earn himself more damage today.

He glared at his lifeless arm lying in the organic dirt and lifted his serviceable servo to the dent on his head. Like a human bruise, pain flared up as he probed at it. After all this time, it was still strange to get so thoroughly savaged by the Prime. Starscream remembered back when Optimus hated the mere thought of violence. Back when he wasn't Optimus the Prime, but Orion the archivist. Oh yes, he still remembered those days. Still felt them like energon swords through his spark. Having his peace battle him so fiercely. Starscream wondered if Megatron ever felt like that. If he ever felt truly betrayed by his brother.

Starscream did. Often.

And now was the perfect time to go back to Megatron. Now, when he's as low as he's going to get, is the only time he can. Megatron's favorite pastime is to ground him into the dirt and he never could just sit by and let someone crush his ego.

Starscream stood from his seat against a tree and stretched, wincing. Seeker builds have two joints in their legs, one where other mechs knees are and another more mobile set just above their ankles so their pedes could be used as landing gears and his lower set was full of rocks. It would take forever to get it clean and the overly sensitive joints would be giving him Pit until he did. A normal Seeker would have passed out from the pain by now but he was far too used to it. Between this Pit-forsaken war and Megatron, Starscream was nearly immune to pain. Humiliation, on the other hand, was something he should be used to but it still cut him deep. He fired up his thrusters and found himself somewhere in the stratosphere again. He was getting slow, still the fastest flier around but not as fast. Bad maintenance was getting to him, slowing his systems down. His processor went back to the forest battle and nearly stalled because what he had seen was beyond comprehension. Bad maintenance was getting to everyone, it seemed.

Starscream's engines nearly stalled again and he knew why. It had been so long since he had to truly fight Prime, truly had to be close to the huge mech for a prolonged amount of time and it was wearing on him, even now. And when had he become Prime and stopped being Orion to Starscream? When had he stopped thinking of the sweet, shy archivist he had been so close to loving? What happened to the mech that had to be all but bribed to learn to fight? The answer was easy, of course- war had happened and he had been put at the helm. But he still had the image of lightweight armor and over long legs and a shy smile and optics that were this bright, perfect, soft shade of blue that was burned into his processor and, again, unbidden, that same question came up. What happened to him? War happened, and his mind was so right when it added that he certainly hadn't helped, had made it all worse. Even his mental voice was snide now and he wondered what had happened to him, when he had become so bitter all the time. He had always been of an unstable temperament, but this was different.

Enough of that, though, there would be time later to obsess over the things he couldn't change. He was minutes away from base and he needed to compose himself before he met with his master and his master's master. And how twisted was that? The indomitable Megatron, submitting to someone else so clearly weaker than him.

The base, and he was being generous in calling it that because it was little more than a strip of desert on the African plains with holes dug for storage, was empty when he landed and he felt only slightly relieved. Megatron not being there only stalled his punishment, something that he had learned a very long time ago was never good.

Starscream looked around him in disgust before gently lying his detached arm down and joining it on the dusty ground. What was so great about this pit-forsaken planet? He looked around again, sullenly, looking for something worthwhile and found nothing. Let's see what I can see, he thought, something to analyze to pass the time before Megatron and the Doctor came back. There are trees, more trees, more trees, oh and some insignificant insects for variety, he thought unkindly to the herd of gazelles passing by a few miles out before turning his helm to continue his analysis before making an irritated sound, and more trees.

He heard the sound of well-maintained and powerful flight engines long before he could see them and Starscream scrambled up from the ground to greet his commanders, not even bothering to reprimand himself at the brief show of emotion. He would not be seen as weak, not by them. They were like organic wolves, scenting fear and weakness and moving in on it. Emotion was a weakness he liked to pretend he didn't have anymore and as long as he stopped trying to kill his master and still screamed when punished, Megatron didn't care. Starscream would keep it that way

The Air Commander's scarred wings twitched up as he faced the sky, looking proud and undaunted. It reminded him of the Decepticon symbol branded there, of the oath he had taken. It was an honor oath, carved in his metal and bound in his energon, to uphold the Decepticon ideals, at the heart of which were freedom and rebellion and justice. He would keep it, even if he no longer considered himself one of them anymore. He hadn't been for a long time, but watching the Decepticon leader rip through his (was he really Starscream's anything anymore? No, no he wasn't.) Prime's spark like it was nothing was the last straw. He was going rogue, whether Megatron knew it, or not.

He was not one of them and it was time to embrace that fact.

0o0

(A/N: Yes. I totally just used a Disney song.)