Fire in the Sky
folder
S through Z › Transformers (Movie Only)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,450
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Transformers (Movie Only)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,450
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own Transformers: I make no money doing this.
Epilogue: Armor
(AN: well, here you go. The last bit. Please let me know how I did!)
Thundercracker came to their shared quarters three solars later, a cycle later than usual. Starscream was still on light duty, excused from training, but just at the verge of aching to do something. They had four recharge stations—they’d insisted upon it and the trainers had probably just enough spark and respect for their loss not to question it. He called Skywarp over to Starscream’s recharge. Thundercracker opened one of his storage compartments. “Got these,” he said, “don’t ask how.”
Starscream reached a hand to touch them. “Skyfire’s.” Not a question. He knew. He could feel it, as if Skyfire’s spark inhabited the metal. Thundercracker nodded.
“Three pieces. All I could get.”
The pieces were blackened and twisted and warped by the heat. It was agonizing to think how that must have hurt Skyfire. I wish, Starscream heard himself thinking, that Skyfire was dead before he had to feel this. Horrible wish.
“You choose first,” Thundercracker said to him. Starscream looked at the pieces, trying to place them. That one was a bit of forearm plating. That was part of his collar armor. And that—that was the cover to his spark chamber. His hand hovered over the last. He looked up. Thundercracker smiled.
“Go on, take it. Thought you’d want it.” When Starscream’s hand still hovered, Thundercracker snatched up the collar armor. Skywarp took the forearm. They both looked at him expectantly. His hand closed over it.
He opened up his chest, and with a wince, tore the cover of his spark chamber off, and lay Skyfire’s over it. He hissed as his body chemistry adapted the metal. But it was over in moments, less time than Skyfire had suffered burning through the atmosphere. For Skyfire, he’d take this pain. “He shall be part of us,” Starscream said.
Skywarp added, “He already is.”
Starscream felt the metal burning into his chamber, searing against his spark. He had learned. Despite what they said, he had killed Skyfire. He had gotten too close, shared his weakness with Skyfire, and Skyfire had died. Perhaps during the spark link his incompetence, his fear, had transferred to Skyfire, and he had gotten in return the other’s boldness, courage, self-assurance. This, he swore, would not happen again. He would never again force himself, force his weakness, on another. He would not. The others might be able to sense his pain, through the spark link, but he knew they could never take it away. And he hoarded it, and its terrible lesson, jealously to himself. Never again.
Thundercracker came to their shared quarters three solars later, a cycle later than usual. Starscream was still on light duty, excused from training, but just at the verge of aching to do something. They had four recharge stations—they’d insisted upon it and the trainers had probably just enough spark and respect for their loss not to question it. He called Skywarp over to Starscream’s recharge. Thundercracker opened one of his storage compartments. “Got these,” he said, “don’t ask how.”
Starscream reached a hand to touch them. “Skyfire’s.” Not a question. He knew. He could feel it, as if Skyfire’s spark inhabited the metal. Thundercracker nodded.
“Three pieces. All I could get.”
The pieces were blackened and twisted and warped by the heat. It was agonizing to think how that must have hurt Skyfire. I wish, Starscream heard himself thinking, that Skyfire was dead before he had to feel this. Horrible wish.
“You choose first,” Thundercracker said to him. Starscream looked at the pieces, trying to place them. That one was a bit of forearm plating. That was part of his collar armor. And that—that was the cover to his spark chamber. His hand hovered over the last. He looked up. Thundercracker smiled.
“Go on, take it. Thought you’d want it.” When Starscream’s hand still hovered, Thundercracker snatched up the collar armor. Skywarp took the forearm. They both looked at him expectantly. His hand closed over it.
He opened up his chest, and with a wince, tore the cover of his spark chamber off, and lay Skyfire’s over it. He hissed as his body chemistry adapted the metal. But it was over in moments, less time than Skyfire had suffered burning through the atmosphere. For Skyfire, he’d take this pain. “He shall be part of us,” Starscream said.
Skywarp added, “He already is.”
Starscream felt the metal burning into his chamber, searing against his spark. He had learned. Despite what they said, he had killed Skyfire. He had gotten too close, shared his weakness with Skyfire, and Skyfire had died. Perhaps during the spark link his incompetence, his fear, had transferred to Skyfire, and he had gotten in return the other’s boldness, courage, self-assurance. This, he swore, would not happen again. He would never again force himself, force his weakness, on another. He would not. The others might be able to sense his pain, through the spark link, but he knew they could never take it away. And he hoarded it, and its terrible lesson, jealously to himself. Never again.