A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience; I know it has been a long wait. As of this chapter, the past timeline has officially caught up with the present and there is only one more chapter to go! I will try not to take a year this time ^^;

As always, a Metroplex-sized thank you to my beta, Darkwhisperings.

Jupiter Crash belongs to The Cure. Also, it's been six years but—just in case—light spoilers for All Hail Megatron # 12 ahoy.

Interlude II, Part II: Fracture

"She follows me down to the sound of the sea. Slips to the sand and stares up at me. Is this how it happens? Is this how it feels? Is this how a star falls?"

The sound of Skywarp's true voice startled him; his trinemate almost always affected tone deafness to annoy Starscream. The slight tightness in his otherwise decent tenor spoke of disuse and Thundercracker frowned at the unexpected sadness this brought.

His trinemate's helm was bowed over the rec room table, where his primary weapons lay in pieces. He held a bore brush in one hand and the barrel of his weapon in the other.

Skywarp's song trailed off into a hum as he focused on scouring a stubborn spot. Thundercracker was torn between asking about Skywarp's curious singing habit, his unusual song choice, and wanting to ask why Skywarp stopped singing, but all that ended coming out of his vocalizer was—

"'Warp?"

"Oh. Hey, TC." He glanced upward and flashed a distracted smile before dipping his helm back to his task. He inserted the circular brush into the bore of his weapon. "You're up early."

"I just got off duty. I had a night patrol with Starscream…and before you ask, no, I do not have the juicy details on how he managed to earn it."

"You really are hopeless at gossip, you know."

"Yeah, I am a disappointment to nosy purple teleporters everywhere," he said, sitting down on the opposite bench. "Speaking of, it's slagging early. Have you even recharged?"

"Of course," he retorted. "0530 PT and maneuvers." His trinemate never could recharge past 0500; those alarms were hardwired.

"I just thought I'd relax a little bit before this place fills up with noisy stupid fraggers." Skywarp set down his bore brush and exchanged it for a rod with a solvent-soaked piece of rag.

"This is relaxing?" Despite his words, he removed and began to dismantle his own weapons. "Hey, hand me that brush."

The memory made him think one of Skywarp's favorite human songs, which he had caught him singing on occasion when he thought no one was around to listen. In the darkness of the medbay, he recalled the lyrics.

"…The night turns as I try to explain, irresistible attraction and orbital plane, or maybe it's more like a moth to a flame. She brushes my face with her smile. Forget about stars for a while... "

Thundercracker stroked Skywarp's hand, studying what was left of his shredded wings. His chronometer informed him that he had been sitting with his trinemate for quite a while, but he had yet to come to terms with the state of Skywarp's once proud wings.

A spark of indignation kindled in the pit of his tank, which grew into a slow burning anger at the thought of Megatron's callous order to stop Skywarp's wing reconstruction. After so many loyal vorns of service, it was the least that he could do for his supposedly favorite Seeker.

Of course, their leader was not known for his mercy.

The crack of the energon whip echoed through the brig. Thundercracker grimaced against the white hot flash of pain that streaked across his wings and side, but grit his denta and remained silent.

"I do not tolerate weak-sparked, Autobot sympathizers in my army!"

Thundercracker lifted his leaden helm and met the furious burn of Megatron's optics.

"I am a Decepticon soldier, Sir," he stated, "and I enlisted in this army to fight Autobots, not humans."

"The humans are allied with the Autobots, and therefore are our enemy. Intercepting that bomb was treason!"

Thundercracker ignored the relentless ache of his wings and back. He ignored the burning itch of his wounds, the annoying slick of heated energon down his plating, his strut-deep exhaustion—he had long since mastered pain. Thundercracker flicked his wings in defiance, the puckered edges of his brands catching the light.

"Allowing a bomb to fall on a populated human area is not an act of war; it is slaughter!"

His words came to an abrupt, strangled halt as Megatron captured his neck in a vice grip and hauled him up to his face. He felt the sickening crunch of delicate neck plating beneath the warlord's hand as his thrusters lost contact with the ground.

"I am in charge, Thundercracker. Never forget that. As I must often remind your trineleader, your words are just like you—inconsequential and impotent."

The sticky warm flow of fluorescent pink energon tracked down his faceplates and onto the warlord's hand. "If you ever interfere with my plans again, I will not hesitate to extinguish your worthless spark."

"He is to receive no energon or medical assistance," Megatron instructed Vortex, who stood guard by the cell.

"Yes, Sir," Vortex said.

"If he survives, perhaps he is worthy of a chance to redeem himself. In the likely chance that he does not," Megatron smirked, "make sure to hose the cell down thoroughly after you dispose of his frame. I do not want this traitorous slag's energon corroding my brig."

Megatron eyed the energon that ran down his hand before he abruptly let go of Thundercracker. The Seeker's legs collapsed under him, the bonds the only thing keeping him upright. With a curl of his lip, Megatron flicked the offending energon onto Thundercracker's frame and exited the cell, the energon-stained electrowhip trailing behind him.

Once the pounding echo faded down the corridor, Thundercracker checked his energon level. He had 6% charge remaining and, due to his many injuries, it continued to drop at an unnatural rate; he would not survive the Earth night. He felt optics on him and, though he tried to ignore it, he finally glanced up to meet the unnerving stare of the craziest flier in the Decepticon Army.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped.

"I love being on guard duty after a torture session," Vortex said with an eerie smile. "Most mechs think the fun is over once the mech stops screaming, but watching the fight—the hope—slowly drain from their optics is so much more satisfying than seeing their energon pool on the floor."

"If you think trying to frighten me will give you some sort of control over this situation, don't bother," Thundercracker said, his voice level. He was a couple megacycles from deactivation and he did not want to spend his remaining time listening to Vortex's morbid posturing. "You have no control. You're as much of a pawn as I am, and someday, sooner or later, this will be you. So leave me in peace."

"Of that I have no doubt," Vortex agreed as he ran his hand through an energon splatter on the brig wall. "Commanders, pawns… It doesn't matter who we are or what we accomplished in life, one by one by one by one," he tapped his fingers along the cold metal to punctuate each word, leaving small spots of bright pink in his wake, "we will all rust."

Thundercracker just stared at Vortex as the conehead continued to play with his energon on the wall. So this was how he was going to deactivate—not honorably in battle, not even with the dignity afforded by solitude. No, he was going to offline while watching Vortex fingerpaint like some demented human child.

"Some, of course, will meet their ends sooner than others, though fate defies all logical prediction," Vortex continued, once it was clear that Thundercracker was not going to respond. "I honestly thought you would outlive that idiotic trinemate of yours."

Thundercracker's optics narrowed.

"Oh, does that bother you? Don't worry, he won't be far behind," Vortex said. "He was always the weak link of your trine. Be honest, the only reason he's survived this long is due to his skills on his back."

Vortex lips curved upward as Thundercracker's sonic systems issued a threatening growl.

"Idiot or not, he was crafty enough to worm his way into your good graces in exchange for protection. I wonder what he'll do to endear himself to your replacement. If rumors are to be believed, the harlot might actually miss you even with his lips all over your successor's plati—"

"You fragger!" Thundercracker roared. He threw himself against his bonds at the conehead, optics white with rage. "Come over here and say that, coward! I will rip out your spark with my dentae!"

"So you still have some fight in you after all," Vortex said. "How fun. You've got more fire than I expected, but you're still pretty boring; it'll be so much more delicious to watch that grin of his fade as his frame goes gray."

"Oh, but you know you'd miss me!" His spark fell into his tank as a familiar voice echoed down the cellblock. "I came down to get you, chipper chopper. You're missing a great party!"

"I'm on guard duty, idiot," Vortex said, not sounding interested in the slightest. "And what makes you think I'd want to miss all the action down here?"

"Trust me, you'd like this party," Skywarp said with a smirk as he came into view. His trinemate did not spare a glance toward his cell. "Old Megs allowed us to dip into the high grade stores, you know, in honor of the the elimination of the weak element from our ranks."

"So," Vortex's smile was positively gleeful as he turned toward Thundercracker's cell, "they're throwing a party upstairs to celebrate your deactivation—before you have even finished bleeding out. Aren't you the special one?" The edge of Skywarp's lips rose in cruel acknowledgement, but his optics remained pinned on Vortex. "You're right, Skywarp, that does sound like a fun time!"

"Oh, go ahead," Skywarp said. "I'll watch the traitor."

"Why would you do that?" Vortex asked with narrowed optics. "Last time I checked, you did not owe me any favors."

Vortex turned back to Thundercracker, as he appeared to consider whether the morbid party was worth being indebted to Skywarp and, more importantly, whether it was worth missing his continued torment.

"Oh, I don't want anything from you. As humiliating as it is, this piece of filth was my trinemate for vorns. Let's just say that I'd like an opportunity to take out the trash." Skywarp's vocalizer dripped acid, "You know, without witnesses."

Thundercracker flinched as Skywarp dismissed him with a callousness befitting an elite Decepticon. He knew in his processor that such a statement was expected from Megatron's favorite Seeker, but actually hearing it caused a sharp, searing pain to cut through his spark. Skywarp was loyal to Megatron alone; he should never have allowed himself to hope otherwise.

Thundercracker let his optics dim and drop to the floor. The last thing he saw was Vortex's smirk as he turned back to address Skywarp.

"Well, looks like there is nothing more to see here. His frame might still be functioning but, dear Skywarp, I am sorry to say that your former trinemate is nothing more than an empty husk," Vortex crooned in mock-sympathy. "Once the fight leaves their optics, things get pretty boring. He'll probably just keep staring at the floor until his spark gives out."

"Right. If it's all the same to you, I have things I need to do and—"

"Of course. I think I'll take that cube now. All of this existential drama has made me quite thirsty."

The sound of the main brig door closing met his audios and Skywarp turned on him in sudden fury.

"What did you just do?! You betrayed m—Betrayer!"

Thundercracker kept his optics down. The brig floor started to lose focus, the sickly pool of energon at his pedes becoming nothing more than an innocuous purple blur. His processor was beginning to slow and, in that moment, he felt more peaceful than he had in vorns. It was so tempting to allow himself to forget the chill of the brig, the pain, the chains, and let himself float.

"Thundercracker!"

Something about the sound of his name, the strangeness of it, broke through the haze that was clouding his processor. That familiar voice—Skywarp? That's right, Skywarp was here. Skywarp never called him by his full name. Something was wrong.

"Thundercracker! Look at me, slaggit!"

Something was indeed wrong. He had committed treason. He was fragged—and Skywarp was here to witness it. He reset his optics and willed himself to focus. There was nothing he could do to prevent his trinemate from seeing the energon and injuries covering his frame, but he forced himself to straighten up and lift his wings from where they sagged on the floor. Skywarp should not see him like this. If he could just last a little longer, his trinemate would give up and leave and he could deactivate in peace.

"TC? Please."

He looked up, surprised by the sheer desperation he heard in his trinemate's voice, and found himself trapped by familiar red optics, bright with anger.

"Why'd you do it, TC? Why did you intercept the bomb?!" Skywarp demanded. "I mean, isn't double-crossing the boss kinda' Screamer's territory? You don't even like squishes! What does it matter if a few get nuked?! Your life is more important that theirs."

And just like that, his trinemate's anger evaporated. The black Seeker fell to his knees by his side. For a moment, he just stared past the energon bars into Skywarp's stricken face—and then Thundercracker laughed. He laughed and laughed like he hadn't in vorns, until his cracked rib struts forced him to intake shaky, shallow breaths to steady himself. His processor spun and the brig contracted and swirled around him in a fit of colors and ones and zeros.

"You slagger. You fragging wonderful, clever slagger. I thought—Well, it's no matter."

His visual field glitched and cleared, affording him a brief view of Skywarp's face, which was slack with horror, as though Thundercracker had torn the wings off an unarmed Seeker, before his trinemate dissolved into a wavering blob of shocking magenta. He lost the battle against the laugher. It poured out of him, light and airy with relief.

"Why'd you do it, TC?"

The sudden question, delivered with the utmost seriousness, brought his freewheeling processor back down to Cybertron. No, Earth. They were on Earth and Skywarp's question was dangerous territory. He was certain that Skywarp suspected that he had doubts about the Decepticon cause, but he had never outright admitted them to his trinemate. Skywarp, on the other hand, was unwaveringly loyal. He might be signing his deactivation warrant, but his friend deserved the truth. As the humans put it, he was a dead mech anyway. He rallied what was left of his processor and answered.

"We are warriors, Skywarp, not executioners," he said. "The humans are too weak, too primitive, to defend themselves. They are not our enemy; they are nothing more than pests caught in the crossfire. If that bomb were headed for an Autobot base, I would not have stopped it."

The magenta blob—Skywarp—leaned forward, until his face was almost pressed against the energon bars, and Thundercracker realized that his voice was fading.

"So you are still loyal to the Decepticon cause?"

"The Autobots have taken too much from me, and I will never forgive them," he said. "When I joined, I thought I had nothing left to lose, but I was wrong. The war has taken far more—Cybertron is dead, and…" You. "We are all just remnants of our former selves."

"TC?"

"Now, I wish for nothing more than the restoration of Cybertron—to go home—and for the annihilation of the old class system... but I am tired ... of war, of killing ..." He let his optics go dark. It was too much effort to keep them online and the constant wavering and color changes were making him nauseated. "I am so very ... tired."

"Thundercracker, answer me!" Skywarp yelled at him. "Where does your loyalty lie?"

"I am not always ... certain, but ... I will fight ... for the Decepticons ... for you, always ... you ... I never doubted."

He heard the discharge of energon bars and, suddenly, urgent hands were running along his frame, inspecting the damage.

"The cameras..."

"Oh, don't worry about that. If you think I've had too much to drink, you should see Rumble and Frenzy! Nobody is going to be watching the feeds, trust me. Anyway, it looks like your self repair has kicked in, but you've lost a lot of energon." One of Skywarp's hands traveled up to slide open the medical access panel on his bound forearm and a connection was snapped into place. Skywarp's voice sounded close to his audio, "I couldn't risk bringing a cube with me to the brig, so this will have to do."

It took him a moment to register Skywarp's words and his rapidly increasing energon level.

"What are you doing?" He froze in his restraints, his spark clenching in terror, before he erupted in a flurry of movement. He tried to rip the connection out of his forearm, but there was not enough slack in his bindings. He kicked out, nailing his trinemate in the canopy, cursing Skywarp's foolishness over the sharp crack of glass. "You cannot do this. It's not safe and I'm not worth it."

"What the frag, TC! That hurt! And I am going to have a pit of a time explaining that one to the Constructicons." Skywarp, sounding very angry, grabbed him around the torso and pulled him to his frame. He thrashed against his bonds, desperately trying to dislodge his wingmate.

"Hold fragging still," Skywarp hissed in his audio. "I'd rather not have shattered glass wedged all in my internals."

"I'm sorry, 'Warp. Please. Just stop it and leave me be. I am not worth it."

"Worth it? What on Cyberton are you talking about, TC?" Skywarp exclaimed, his anger fading into frustrated confusion.

"You'll bleed out," he was ashamed at the amount of fear that he could hear in his voice, but he did not stop thrashing. "I'm not worth it."

"Seriously, TC? I've consumed enough highgrade to take out a combiner and my charge is at 112%. I have plenty to spare. In fact, I'll be much more fit for patrols tomorrow if you'd just hold fragging still and let me bleed off a little of this extra charge! If this is about your mentor—Honestly, you silly slagger, you carry more baggage than a luggage conveyor at a spaceport." Skywarp's voice was strained with the effort of holding him still, but he could detect a soft, affectionate undertone that gave him pause. "It's okay. Really."

His fuel level was at 43% when he felt the brush of Skywarp's fingers against his forearm followed by a sharp snap as Skywarp disconnected the line. He sagged against his bonds in exhaustion. The muted whirr of their combined vents filled his audios as his forehead came to rest against the warm metal of his trinemate's shoulder.

"Sorry, if I give you any more it will look suspicious." His trinemate brushed what felt like a nasty dent in his helm. He could not help but lean into the touch; Skywarp's cool fingers felt so good against the heated metal. He felt an answering pressure from Skywarp's hand as it moved down to stroke his cheek.

"I'm sorry I broke your cockpit," he whispered, burying his face into his trinemate's neck plating. He should not be doing this, he reminded himself, but he was so tired and his trinemate was so warm. "I hope it doesn't hurt too badly."

"I've had worse," Skwarp said, his voice light and joking but with an odd tightness. Thundercracker's awareness returned to his trinemate's hand, as Skywarp's soothing strokes moved down to the base of his neck plating. "I'll just tell the Constructicons that I got in another scrap with Rumble. As overcharged as he was, he won't remember otherwise."

"Thank you," he said. "But I still don't understand. Why would you do this? You went against a direct order from Megatron."

Skywarp's arms moved to encircle him, his hands gently stroking the base of his wings. He could feel the cheeky grin against the side of his helm as his trinemate answered:

"For you, always."

"'Warp—" He tugged at his bonds, wanting to return Skywarp's embrace. The sound of the chains caught Skywarp's attention. His trinemate's optics widened and his frame went rigid.

"Oh, I have to go erase the recordings from the brig cameras!" Skywarp said, snapping his hands back as though Thundercracker's plating had burnt him. He stood up and offered Thundercracker an uneasy, apologetic smile. "Rumble and Frenzy won't stay overcharged forever."

Skywarp stepped out of the cell and reactivated the energon bars. In a flash, he was gone.

Carefully, so very carefully, he shifted onto the berth and drew Skywarp into his lap. In the darkness of the medbay, he cradled his trinemate in his arms as though he could hold the pieces of his broken spark together.

"I never lost you to the war," he whispered. "I get that now. I can't believe that I didn't see it before."

He could feel Skywarp's sparkbeat against his chestplates. It felt erratic and shallow, like a buffet of wind against the underside of his wings. Every instinct that he possessed as a flier screamed at him to do something; do something, or his trinemate's spark would stall—but there was nothing that he could do.

He cradled his trinemate's helm against his chest plates.

"Back when I first met you, you didn't think I made mistakes; you believed that I was invincible. Of course, you've known for a long time that's not the case." He buried his helm in the side of his trinemate's neck, and whispered into his audio. "Let me tell you a secret, 'Warp: I am the one who has always needed you. You give me purpose when, some solar cycles, I have no other reason to keep going. Flying with you, just being with you—seeing the universe through your unique perspective—I am continually reminded that there is still beauty and joy in this existence. You haven't needed me to be perfect in ages, 'Warp. You've grown into a strength all your own. So, I can tell you the truth now: I am afraid. I am so very afraid."

"Thundercracker?" He looked up sharply to see Starscream standing in the doorway.

"How much did you hear?" hung unspoken in the air. However, if Starscream had heard anything, he gave no indication. His trineleader glanced up at the monitors, optics flickering across Skywarp's vitals, before meeting his optics.

"Put Skywarp down and return to your quarters." Starscream's voice turned hard. "That is an order."

"How dare you." His deep voice cracked with anger. "You treat him like a disposable piece of slag! Despite what you think of him as a mech, he's kept the right side of your aft safe for millennia, you ungrateful fragger!"

"Thundercracker, return to your quarters," Starscream repeated, strangely without temper, though the subtle, agitated flicker of his wings hinted at the fragility of his calm. "I do not want those Constructicon loudmouths seeing you in here. Mechs will talk."

"Since when do you or I give a frag about the Constructicons' gossip?"

"You should start giving one. You're an elite Seeker, for Primus' sake! Don't you have anything better to do than skulk around the medbay?" Starscream frowned. "Perhaps I haven't tasked you enough. How does scouring the wash racks sound?"

Thundercracker growled. He wouldn't dare.

Starscream smirked as his threat got the desired reaction, though his spark did not appear to be in it. His optics looked tired.

"Well, then make yourself scarce or I won't hesitate." He did not even sound angry.

"Why are you doing this?" Thundercracker was confused, both by the situation and by his trineleader's odd behavior. "I am off duty! It is none of your concern what I do with my free time."

"Oh, it is very much my concern, Thundercracker." Starscream frowned. "It became my concern when your actions threatened to draw attention to a potential vulnerability in the trine."

"What are you trying to say?" Thundercracker growled.

"You know the rules."

"What rules?" Thundercracker glared at his trineleader. "What are you getting at?"

"I am merely suggesting that you try and get some recharge—and get your wing fixed, for frag's sake! You've been in the medbay for two slagging megacycles, yet could not be bothered to rouse anyone to fix your wing. Skywarp or no, we are running drills tomorrow and I expect you to have it fixed by then ..." Starscream stopped mid-rant, and smirked. "However, I am 'getting at' absolutely nothing."

"I don't understand."

"Plausible deniability, you fool." Starscream shook his helm, exasperated. "I have not seen anything. I have not heard anything. I came down to the medbay to retrieve this datapad," he grabbed Skywarp's datapad from the berthside table.

"Hey, I didn't get to re—"

"And," Starscream raised his voice over Thundercracker's protest, "I most certainly did not see you down here whispering lovey-dovey emotional slag to Skywarp's offline frame. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Lovey-dovey? Is that what Starscream thought this was? He could not be serious. He was not in love with Skywarp! Skywarp was his best friend, and without a doubt the most important mech in his life, but love—love as in spark bonds, rainbows, and breaking those rules kind of love?—was unthinkable. Ridiculous. Starscream was insane.

"Now, come on," Starscream said, gesturing him out of the medbay.

Thundercracker stepped into the deserted corridor. It was late into the third shift, so the lights along the walls had been dimmed to conserve energy. In the silence, he heard the hydraulics of the door panel hiss as Starscream keyed it closed behind them. His processor was still reeling from the absurdity of Starscream's assumption. In an effort to distract himself, he decided to address something that he meant to tell his trineleader after their debriefing.

"It was the CADF, you know," Thundercracker said, as he walked with Starscream down the corridor. "They are the reason why Skywarp's personality and memory cores are intact."

"Why do you say that?" Starscream turned and followed Thundercracker to the lift that would take him to his quarters, the opposite direction from the Commander's own. Starscream was almost bearable like this, when his scientific curiosity was piqued; Thundercracker could almost pretend that the slagger cared what happened to their wingmate.

"They ordered his build." Thundercracker fixed his optics on the corridor ahead. "He came off the lines ready to serve Cybertron."

"Yes, Thundercracker. All of that is in his file. Your point?"

"He isn't like us. He is a purpose-built military mech. The things that make Skywarp, well, Skywarp ... the CADF had no reason to prioritize them. It didn't matter to them whether or not he could remember that his favorite cloud formation is cirrus, that he likes pushing Rumble down the stairs a little more than Frenzy, or that he is supposed to be ..." Exuberant, fun-loving, and playful, his processor supplied. He ignored it. "... A hyperactive, sadistic ..."

"Idiot." Starscream snorted, giving him an uncomfortable, knowing look. "Just say it. You're both idiots, by the way." Thundercracker ignored his trineleader. "So you're saying that whoever wrote the code for his teleporting modification prioritized his fighting and warping abilities over his memory and personality cores?"

"Yes. His mind and soul were always secondary to his ability to fight." Thundercracker stopped at his door and turned to address his trineleader. "What I don't understand is why the CADF went to the trouble of going to Vector Sigma. If they wanted a killing machine, why didn't they just use a drone?"

"I've never seen Skywarp fight like he did today." For a moment, Starscream looked hics away. "I would be quite proud if he wasn't such a moron. A drone wouldn't have been able to do that."

"Well, of course not. Skywarp has vorns of combat experience and an exceptionally powerful Sigma ability!"

"It's not just that." Starscream waved his hand in dismissal. "What I am trying to say is that, as a non-sentient entity, a drone has a number of distinct disadvantages over a living warrior, a fact which I am sure the CADF as a whole recognized even if some short-sighted fool of a programmer mucked it up in coding." Starscream's optics met his. "Consider this: Can a drone be vicious? No. It does not feel hatred. Can a drone fight with desperation? Again, no. It has no concept of loss. Do you see what is missing here, Thundercracker?"

"Again, no." he deadpanned. He was really getting tired of Starscream's mind games. This had been the longest orbital cycle of his existence, and he was exhausted. He eyed his door with longing.

"Motivation!" Starscream declared. "The value of proper motivation for a soldier cannot be understated. As Air Commander, I've witnessed its benefits time and time again." Starscream dropped his voice, "It's why I'm willing to turn a blind optic."

Was Starscream seriously alluding to the anti-fraternization rules? While it was surprising—spark-halting shocking, actually—that Starscream would be willing to overlook those rules for them, it was unnecessary. There was nothing going on between him and Skywarp.

Okay, so maybe he found Skywarp physically attractive…

"I am still not following you," he lied, pushing those thoughts firmly from his processor.

"Then I shall have to simplify it for you, my dear Thundercracker: My principle concern as Air Commander is to make sure that our trine is as efficient and lethal as possible." Starscream gave him a sidelong glance. "Whatever it was that drove you and Skywarp to fight like you did today, well, I'd be a fool to discourage it ... and I am no fool."

Thundercracker just stared. Starscream really did think there was something going on between him and Skywarp—and he was accepting it?! There was nothing there to accept!

Okay, so perhaps he might have wondered on one or two occasions what it would be like to be intimate with his trinemate. But that did not mean anything, did it?

"Primus, what did I do in a past life to deserve such dense trinemates?!" Starscream keyed open Thundercracker's door, but held his arm across the opening. "Before you go to recharge, answer me this: What was Skywarp's motivation for saving your sorry aft?"

"I've been asking myself that all night," he confessed. "I guess it's because he's my best friend."

Was that all he was?

"You don't do anything by halves, do you TC?" Skywarp laughed, breathless in the desert night.

Where had that thought come from? More to the point, what was he thinking confessing the depth of their friendship to Starscream? He was setting himself up for a vorn's worth of mocking at the very least. More likely though, it would be many vorns' worth of blackmail. His trine leader's expression did not budge. Blackmail it was.

"That's a fact, you dolt. What was his motivation?" He was ready to punch the smug smirk off of Starscream's faceplates. The other seemed to sense this and removed his arm from the door with a laugh. "Think about it. As the humans say: Sweet dreams, Thundercracker." With that, Starscream turned and strode down the corridor toward the lift.

Thundercracker walked to his berth and, folding his wings, collapsed onto his side. A sharp pain tore through his severed wing as it was jostled by the impact, but the initial sting lasted only for a moment before it dulled to an ache. He was too exhausted to get up to retrieve the small stash of pain meds that he kept hidden behind his computer terminal. His frame felt like it weighed a million tons so he just lay there, letting his processor drift as his wing throbbed in time with the pulse of his spark.

Unbidden, his processor returned like a magnet to that night on Cybertron. He could never forget Skywarp's laughter, his smile; it had been so brilliant that it seemed to be made of stars. He smiled as his imagined Skywarp gave him his trademark cheeky grin, reminding him that it was.

His spark gave a peculiar throb.

He remembered the awed whisper of his name and the warmth from Skywarp's canopy as he twisted his trinemate's frame into his own. He remembered the soft flutter of Skywarp's excited spark.

Why did he ever let go?

His optics brightened in surprise as the room was consumed by a brilliant flare of violet.