Chapter Text
Warmth. Starscream felt… warm. Was death supposed to be warm? Starscream always imagined death as cool and weightless, a kind of calm nothingness. That wasn’t this though, no, this was something different. Something was wrong. He wasn’t dead. Instead, his processor was booting everything slowly. Itself first, then random access memory, solid memory… Starscream could start to feel the stiffness in his joints and bearings, the hardness of whatever he was laying on, and pain. A dull, pulsing pain in what seemed like his entire frame.
His audials were powering back on and he could hear voices of those he did not recognize yet, nor could he make the words out. In any other situation he would force himself awake in a defensive act, but his processor told him no, that there was no need, and that this was somehow a safe place.
Starscream twitched his fingers and the voices shut up for a couple of moments. He assumed they were now watching his movements carefully to ensure he wasn’t about to jump off what he guessed was a medical berth and attack someone. If he had been in full function, he would laugh.
Then the voices, no, a voice, started speaking again in short, two syllable words. It would take a few repetitions for his processor to understand what those words were that were clearly an effort to get his attention. Starscream would grimace at the noise, keeping his optics shut off. If he was in a medical berth like he thought he was, then he knew the lights would be blindingly bright.
“Starscream, answer me.”
A groan was the only reply.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” It was an old voice that wavered on certain consonants.
Starscream’s response would be forced, his vocalizer straining. “Unfortunately…”
“Good. You’ve, shockingly, pulled through. Despite my medical expertise, I was not sure if I would be able to save you.”
Ratchet. The voice was that damned Autobot medic Ratchet.
“You were in the worst shape I’ve seen a living mech in. If we hadn’t come as quick as we did, I doubt you’d be online.”
Right… Starscream had been dying, he had commed Jetfire in a pitiful plea to save his life. He should feel grateful for the act, but all he felt was pathetic and lowly for needing enemy Autobots to come to his rescue.
“You’re going to need rest, a lot of it. I’m not surprised you’re not in a talkative mood with how intensive of a surgery you just went through and those pain blocking chips in your frame keeping you from feeling like you weren’t just almost ripped into two halves.”
He wanted to taunt the medic, ask why he was even bothering to help, or maybe even ask if Jetfire was here, but his spark was begging for rest. The request was hard to deny. More rest would be beneficial.
The next few solar cycles consisted of Starscream onlining for brief periods of time where Ratchet would ask him vital medical questions, sometimes a bit of poking and proding, before Starscream would offline again. It felt like his frame was unwilling to stay awake, even if his front processes were itching to get out of here or at least not be so stiff. There had been a few medical issues: leaky energon valves, wires coming apart resulting in the inability to move a leg or finger. Onlining in searing pain as if the pain blockers weren't doing their job. It was miserable.
In this time he had not seen Jetfire once. The only permanent bot was Ratchet, though he had seen a few other familiar faces such as the Autobot’s young scout who purposely avoided the part of the med-bay Starscream was laying in. Ironhide had been in, seemingly with the intent of questioning Starscream, though Ratchet insisted he was in no state to be interrogated and rushed him out of the room. Starscream had been slightly grateful for it.\
Today though, Starscream was staying online longer. He felt more energized, but his frame and spark still ached. Ratchet had told him, in no uncertain terms, he was bound to the med-bay and on extreme light duty. He was not to walk more than the size of his room, he could not bend over or twist his frame in any way. The welding would hold his frame and panels together, but many of the damaged innards could only have ‘band-aid’ fixes until his bodies own nanites repaired them to full capacity.
It was boring. The only noise was of Ratchet walking around or tinkering with things, and the occasional muffed pede-steps in the hall. He had no visitors, his trine… His already aching spark sent out a shock of pain, his wings jerked in response. Traitors.
"Not to interrogate you in my own way, but please humor me,” Ratchet started, “Why are you here?”
“Uh, because I commed Jetfire?” That should have been obvious.
“You know what I mean. Don’t give me attitude when I’m the one who saved your life.” He snapped with a harsh glare back from whatever it was he was tinkering with.
Starscream wasn’t going to give this bot a real answer even if he had one. He could barely remembering comming Jetfire, let alone what he said to him or why he did it. The only proof he did it was the call log and well, him being here. “I was dying, as you said. I needed urgent aid.”
Ratchet turned around. “Look, I get you’re… you but, you’ve got this entire base on the tip of its pedes and me stuck in here. I know very well you ‘cons have a medic, so why come take up space in our med-bay?”
Starscream held the stare, faceplate unmoving. “How about this, doc, tell me why you think I’m here. I imagine you have somethin’ calculating up in that processor.” Ratchet may think he has the upper-hand, but Starscream had faced scarier mech with real power over him.
A brief moment of silence sat between them, thick, as Ratchet closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have a guess as to what, or who, did the damage to you. That still doesn’t exactly tell me why you’re here of all places. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been beaten into submission.”
Correct on all accounts and a wing twitched unintentionally. “I don’t think you’re going to like my answer.”
"Try me.”
Starscream clenched his denta. “I don’t know why I’m here.”
A wrench was gripped tight in the medics hand. “Really? Not even an inkling?”
Well, Starscream knew why the Decepticons didn’t take him back, but he didn’t know why he called for Jetfire instead of grovelling over Decepticon frequencies for Megatron to take him back into the fold and to forgive him. “Nope.” The medic didn’t need to know that.
Ratchet didn’t hide his emotions well. Starscream could see he didn’t completely believe him, but with an ‘ugh’ he turned back around to finish his project. Starscream would watch him for a few more kliks, processor running numbers he wasn’t entirely conscious of, before he looked away.