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loltraitorlolI have probably fucked up some of the details here. Er... let me know if I have, okay?
***
He'd tried to forget.
He'd tried everything. High grade. Cascading hallucinatory programs he'd designed himself. Long hours of puzzles, depriving himself of recharge time. Flying until he ran out of fuel and went into a gliding emergency landing and was forced to walk to the nearest gas station, whereupon he'd hid in a trash can with a wire connecting him to a nearby lamp so he could leech just enough power to get home. Where he'd drunk stolen gasoline and felt sick as a drone and belched fumes all the way home.
Nothing worked. He'd wake up at night and roll over hoping that someone would be there. He'd see ducks in the park and instantly the memories would come back.
And regret. Oh, Primus, the regret.
"I didn't really..."
Have a chance to apologize. To say genuinely that he was sorry. Not a chance to really try to change.
He doesn't think he would have changed anyway, but the lost opportunity...
Logically, he knows it was the Porter. It wasn't his fault, and certainly not Skyfire's. In any other case he'd be happy to lay the blame on someone else, to continue in his happy illusions of guiltlessness, blamelessness...
But he's been here too long. He can't, anymore. Maybe if he'd just... perhaps if he'd only...
No. No.
Days go by and he shoves his perfect sky from his mind, and day by day it gets harder. Eventually, he doesn't blame himself (that's an easy pattern to return to). He blames Skyfire. He blames the Porter. He hardens his Spark and undoes what he's learned.
He burns again.
And yet he still hurts.
Eventually, he breaks in to Skyfire's apartment. Somehow, the place has been left intact - no one lives there, and apparently the landlord hasn't bothered to take things out yet.
So Starscream obliges.
He takes a dozen charcoal drawings that he gifted the shuttle. He takes photographs from NASA of places they've been. He takes an LP of Colorpulse's A Glorious Dawn, he takes photographs of them together. He takes biology textbooks and stuffed animals.
From his own house he takes an equal number of photographs, tiny gifts, a basket that once contained a gift of fruit, a cheesy little snowglobe with pictures of them both.
He rents a truck and drives it to Long Island, and goes out to an abandoned lot in a bad part of town.
And then he burns it all.
He watches the flames flicker, he watches them climb higher, and he wishes, for the first time, that he was still human. Then, at least, he could cry.
***
He'd tried to forget.
He'd tried everything. High grade. Cascading hallucinatory programs he'd designed himself. Long hours of puzzles, depriving himself of recharge time. Flying until he ran out of fuel and went into a gliding emergency landing and was forced to walk to the nearest gas station, whereupon he'd hid in a trash can with a wire connecting him to a nearby lamp so he could leech just enough power to get home. Where he'd drunk stolen gasoline and felt sick as a drone and belched fumes all the way home.
Nothing worked. He'd wake up at night and roll over hoping that someone would be there. He'd see ducks in the park and instantly the memories would come back.
And regret. Oh, Primus, the regret.
"I didn't really..."
Have a chance to apologize. To say genuinely that he was sorry. Not a chance to really try to change.
He doesn't think he would have changed anyway, but the lost opportunity...
Logically, he knows it was the Porter. It wasn't his fault, and certainly not Skyfire's. In any other case he'd be happy to lay the blame on someone else, to continue in his happy illusions of guiltlessness, blamelessness...
But he's been here too long. He can't, anymore. Maybe if he'd just... perhaps if he'd only...
No. No.
Days go by and he shoves his perfect sky from his mind, and day by day it gets harder. Eventually, he doesn't blame himself (that's an easy pattern to return to). He blames Skyfire. He blames the Porter. He hardens his Spark and undoes what he's learned.
He burns again.
And yet he still hurts.
Eventually, he breaks in to Skyfire's apartment. Somehow, the place has been left intact - no one lives there, and apparently the landlord hasn't bothered to take things out yet.
So Starscream obliges.
He takes a dozen charcoal drawings that he gifted the shuttle. He takes photographs from NASA of places they've been. He takes an LP of Colorpulse's A Glorious Dawn, he takes photographs of them together. He takes biology textbooks and stuffed animals.
From his own house he takes an equal number of photographs, tiny gifts, a basket that once contained a gift of fruit, a cheesy little snowglobe with pictures of them both.
He rents a truck and drives it to Long Island, and goes out to an abandoned lot in a bad part of town.
And then he burns it all.
He watches the flames flicker, he watches them climb higher, and he wishes, for the first time, that he was still human. Then, at least, he could cry.
