#and worried he’s not the same mech skyfire fell in love with

[ugly-bug-starscream]

my friend @edd-drawsyo introduced me to epic the musical and they said the song “would you fall in love with me again” is our tfone au skystar and..,.. I’m screaming and crying I’m so—

[grayseekerswritinglife]

Entombed

"Great! Caged like helio-hamsters at the Cybertron zoo," Hound grumbled as he paced in circles, scanning the walls as if searching for signs of weakness.

"We've gotta get out of here," agreed Spike, who was sitting cross-legged atop an empty shipping container. "Sooner or later, the rest of the Autobots will show, and they'll need our help."

That was true enough, though Skyfire wasn't sure he had another fight left in him. Especially not with the familiar presence that now hovered at the edges of his awareness, stalking him like a circling predator.

"How will we get past the Decepticons to help them?" he asked, raising a hand to demonstrate that it was empty. "They took our weapons."

"And my ammo," Hound agreed sourly.

It had been a rather short battle. Once Laserbeak had gotten his claws on Spike and threatened to drop him from a height which would surely have pulverized his delicate human bones, Skyfire and Hound has seen no option but to surrender. None of them had been harmed, or even physically restrained, but they had been unceremoniously stripped of their weapons and taken below decks.

Hound stopped his pacing long enough to kick at a box of broken equipment. "Seems like the Decepticons stuck us in their graveyard of spare parts."

"Actually, this is mostly human tech," Spike commented. "Whatever technology they're using to control these oil tankers, they're keeping us well away from it."

Hound snorted. "Can't blame 'em, I guess." He glanced around with a preoccupied expression, then shot a hopeful look at Skyfire. "Maybe we could build a bomb out of all this stuff."

"We would need the right chemical components," Skyfire pointed out with a shake of his head, though even as he said the words, he wondered why he was so quick to dismiss the possibility. It wasn't as if they couldn't fly free of any explosion they caused, but perhaps there was a part of him that didn't really want to get out of here. A part that didn't want to face what… or who... he knew would be waiting beyond the walls of his cage.

"It's kind of strange that there's so much human stuff down here." Spike ran the toe of a booted foot along the edge of the metal container he was sitting on. It was stenciled with the words, AUTO PARTS. "I mean yeah, the tankers were built by us, but this oil platform's gotta be theirs. It doesn't look like any oil platform built on Earth. It looks like it came directly from Cybertron."

"Maybe the platform was built from scavenged human technology," Hound suggested. "And lucky us, we ended up in their junk room."

"Yeah." Spike was staring thoughtfully at a heap of scrap metal and random parts stacked next to the crate.

Skyfire wondered what he was thinking, but before he could ask, the unseen presence gave him a sharp, unmistakable nudge. He stiffened, shocked by its blunt familiarity.

"Skyfire?" Spike was gazing at him, now. "Did someone walk over your grave?"

"Walk over my grave?" Skyfire frowned. "I am not certain of your meaning, Spike."

"Oh, it's an expression my dad sometimes uses," Spike explained. "It means when you shiver for no reason." He shrugged. "It's not like it's cold in here."

"Ah." Skyfire folded his hands between his drawn-up knees, carefully settling his wings into a neutral position. Not that either of his companions were likely to be able to read his wing-gestures. Spike, being human, had little experience dealing with fliers, and Hound, being a grounder, didn't have much more. Still, Skyfire would need to be more careful around Spike, who was clearly more observant than Skyfire had given him credit for. "Humans employ such colorful expressions," he said evasively, trying for a change of topic.

"Yeah, guess we do." Spike flopped back against the metal bulkhead, turning his gaze toward the ceiling of the room which had become their prison. "It's kind of a dumb expression, when you think about it."

"Not to mention morbid," Hound put in.

Silence fell. Skyfire stared at the deck plating without really seeing it, keeping himself carefully still as the unseen presence continued to prod him. It felt impatient, as if it was waiting for Skyfire to 'get' something. Skyfire did his best to remain steadfast, refusing to engage, but it wasn't easy. Why did it have to feel this way? So unchanged. It should have felt dark and twisted and wrong, but it didn't. Its shape, bearing and demeanor all felt identical to that of the beloved cohabitant of Skyfire's mind and spark from that time so long ago, the time before the ice.

What do you want? he finally demanded. Wasn't it bad enough that he and his friends were prisoners here? Why impose this added level of torment?

The presence reacted with a burst of furious exasperation, then fell silent. Skyfire waited for it to return, but it didn't. He wanted to be relieved. It was leaving him in peace, which was what he'd wanted. Or thought he'd wanted. His spark ached with its absence, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from reaching after it, snatching it back to himself. It was so close. As intimate as his own spark, his own frame. He wanted to wrap himself up in it and never let go, but knew he couldn't.

Starscream was no longer the mech Skyfire had loved before the war, no matter how much he looked, and sounded, and felt the same.

"Don't worry," Spike said unexpectedly. His gaze had once again settled on the heap of scrap beside the crate. "When the time comes, I've got a plan."

* * *

Spike's plan, as it turned out, was to activate a device he'd noticed among the scrap: a fully functioning electromagnet. It was a human-built device, so Skyfire supposed Spike had had an edge where it came to recognizing it, but he really should have noticed it himself. As he and his fellow Autobots stood on the dock near Quantum Laboratories, Skyfire's attention kept drifting across the sparkling water to an unseen place beyond the sunlit horizon: to where the Decepticon base lay hidden beneath the waves.

A ghost of a touch grazed his senses, as if assuring itself that Skyfire was there. That he had not sunk to the bottom of the ocean along with the oil platform. And that he'd noticed the damn electromagnet. This latter bit was accompanied by a renewed flash of annoyance, and mental image of the object in question. Skyfire poked back with a jab of amused irritation.

You could have sent me pictures before.

If you'd only been listening, came the response. For a scientist, you certainly can be thick sometimes.

Yes.

When Skyfire stepped from the dock, he had a smile on his lip components which he was glad no one bothered to ask him about. The sky above him was open and clear, and for the first time since waking, he allowed himself a surge of hope. Written for SkyStarWeek 2020. This story is for Day One: Hope and Grief. Many thanks to @overlordraax​ for organizing this wonderful (and much needed) celebration of my OTP!