AN: This new publishing format is really trolling with me. I hope I get this right before the 30ith submission attempt. Anyway, here's a spooky little something I cooked up in time for Halloween. I've been studying character analysis in literature and decided to apply my lessons on my favorite Decepticon to see what makes him tick! I hope you guys enjoy my twisted little vision.

Sometime, while sprawled upon the ground of the dimly lit brig, I feel a gentle hand soothing the distressed contours of a wing.

I sense familiar herculean form would arch over my prone figure, offer silent companionship; white frame only just perceivable in the gloom.

I can just make out cerulean globes, half shuttered in sadness while a long forgotten baritone murmurs insufferably placid sentiments just at the edge of my hearing.

All the while I bite down on my lip in building distress.

I hear the statements almost daily…

"Starscream, you are a fool!"

"You couldn't lead the Decepticons if your very life depended on it!"

And of course the ever popular: "You have failed me once again, Starscream."

I've always resented that one the most, perhaps, because in the end, I was a failure.

"You are not."

I ignored the injured whisper in favor of dwelling further, mind already submerging into a well-traveled train of thought.

It had been getting steadily worse since our arrival on Earth…

More specifically, with our decision to pursue the Autobots to Earth.

I couldn't believe Megatron at first. Why chase the enemy half way across the universe when Cybertron was ours for the taking? Sure the planet had been drained of resources in the preceding conflict, but why exhaust said resources further in the continuation of a fruitless effort? Why not focus on the real issue of restoration and revitalization?

I confided my concerns and more with my lord in an effort to help him see reason. Surly it was only a matter of compelling Megatron to bury past grudges in favor of progress.

My efforts earned me a backhand to the faceplates. This was first time Megatron had ever laid a finger on me in such a manner.

What stung even more was the fact that he had done such in front of the vast majority of Decepticon chief officers. A collective intake punctuated the event.

Embarrassed, furious, shamed, I left quickly without further exchange. A haunted voice in the back of my mind chided me for my foolishness, whispering that I deserved it.

"You did not. No one should ever touch you like that." The specter rebuked, a note of aggression rising and falling with the last sentiment.

Phantom fingers kneaded placatingly at the aching grooves of my helm. I shutter my optics with a hiss, momentarily letting my mind drift under the guidance of soothing digits.

I could lie here forever submerged in this somber embrace, the murk beneath my optical shutters sighing gently out words of reassurance…

A drip of moisture falls from some unknown height, startling me out of my thoughts as it lands on a quivering wing tip. Acute aching is afresh in my limbs as gradually I recognize where I am.

The vision dissipates for a long moment, driven away by the influx of reality. It takes a few moments of panicked searching before I finally see him again. I hardly notice as I releasing a strained noise in relief and desperation.

The servos are back soon after, calming frazzled nerves.

This is not the first time I had landed myself in the brig with a healthy beating since our arrival on this mud-ball of a planet. It certainly wouldn't be the last either.

The astonishment of outright physical punishment had quickly worn off, evolving into an inexhaustible determination. An irrational need for retaliation reared up inside, goading me to fixate all my malcontent upon Megatron.

I loathe him.

I abhor his very existence, determined to see its end.

And yet, for all my subversive intent, I have of late developed a rather demented addiction to his wraith.

Why? Because I deserve it.

Over the short months we have taken up residence on this planet twisted masochistic tendencies have sprouted within my psyche. Crippling survival instincts, provoking me to challenge my leader, if only to feel retribution.

If Megatron ever found out about this, he would no doubt be disgusted by me shameless condition. Either that or he would take delight in it and send me to an early expiration.

He wouldn't understand, not completely. It is not about the pain but rather about my growing list of failures. About my inability to gain pardon for all that I have done, and therefore my need to repent.

"You have nothing to prove to me. Your disposition is genuine."

That is not true. I have everything to prove.

My weary frame heaves a sigh. Joints creek and cables decompress with a hiss as I will the strain away from my limbs.

They had been noticing things. Skywarp and Thundercracker that is. They think I'm crazy.

I hear them at night in our shard quarters. They always believe that I am recharging, which I should have been considering I never seem to get enough lately. However had they really been paying attention they would have discovered that I was faking.

They talked about me, about my behavior of late. From them I discovered that they had been spying on me, commenting that I often talked aloud to myself in a one-sided conversation when no one else was there.

"But you had been there, just as you are here now. You've always been with me."

And the shadow agrees, petting my shoulder vents in praise of the observation. Cerulean lights shimmer with mirth.

They approached me once and subtly expressed their concerns.

As Skywarp so elegantly put it, "We care about you Starscream. You may be a loud mouth pain in the aft with suicidal, traitorous tendencies, but slag it, we're trine!"

Thundercracker quickly interjected, shoving the purple seeker aside. "What Warp is trying to say is that we're worried about you, sincerely. You haven't been yourself lately, not since we came here-" A quick gesture indicating the underwater base around them. "If you have anything going on right now, we can, we want to help you."

The last part was emphasized with the placement of a comforting servo on my shoulder. Thundercracker's faceplates where tense with wariness and poorly concealed anxiety.

Uncertain, I glanced behind me, taking in the silent presence of my companion.

The cerulean optics that had grown accustom to seeing half shuttered in gentle looks of adoration had narrowed to slits in a look of distaste. Features cold. A possessive aura exuded from his ashen frame.

That was all I needed to know. I politely dismissed the offer of my trine mates and walked away. A sizable servo at my back guides me away with a dominating demeanor.

"They are fools trying to keep you away from me", my companion whispers overhead.

A small smile lifts my features. You have always been there for me, even when I am not worthy of your grace.

"Do you remember flying together?" I know the answer already, but it feels good to reminisce out loud.

"I do, Love. They are my most cherished memories."

My mind drifts back to our days on Cybertron. Before there was a war, before there was any exploration.

Our alt-modes wove around one another like giant birds in courtship, performing a dance with no written steps. A pattern only we could follow.

Ducking and braiding around surrounding buildings in the night sky. We dazzled about, one moment in drunken loops the next chasing tail winds at break-neck speeds. It must have been a sight from the ground I muse.

We were made for each other. Two pieces that clicked snugly together in a puzzle. Our frames forged from the same fire, yearning to become whole once more. And together we preformed a symphony with our bodies.

Breaking threw the cloud cover; we took our performance to a more private theater above the atmosphere under the gaze of our planets moon. Our own secret playground among the stars.

Rushing up at one another, no words were exchanged, for none were needed. We flew abreast, undercarriage grinding in an armless embrace. With a flicker of wings we were ready.

It was at that moment we encircled one another and bore our life force. With gentle precision we aligned and merged out sparks. We gifted ourselves, on to the other in a heady ballet of rapture.

As I recall, later you had joked that was a shameless exhibitionist, openly engaging in PDA whenever the opportunity arose. Laughter and promises had come easy back then.

That is, until I lost you shortly after to a violent world of ice and snow, a blow that had crippled me for vorns to come.

I gasp out in pain, partly from the memory, partly from an enflamed wound, passed a cracked cockpit, deep in the internal cavity of my chest. With a monumental effort I sling my frame so that I am now lying on my back. My intakes rattle and sputter, desperately drawing cool air into over-heated systems.

I wince as my damaged chest is exposed and agitated in the open. I grit my denta and gingerly place a servo over the wound in an effort to stem the flow of energon escaping vital systems.

Oddly enough, I don't remember Megatron inflicting this particular affliction.

"We can fly again you know", the specter remarks offhandedly.

Stringent features flash from the wound on my chest back up to my face. Blue optics soften with a smile.

"We can fly again very soon", he says leaning forward. His servo dwarfs mine as it comes to rest over top the damage.

"We can see the stars again, you and I." A tender kiss is bestowed upon my half parted lips. I release a whine as he pulls away gradually, all the time patiently smiling. The sentiment is infectious; I am left giddy inside despite the pain.

My mind feels heavy at this point. Movements are sluggish, taking more energy then I have left in my body. I watch with a dazed fascination as energon congeals inside the dome of my alt-modes cockpit.

"Why are you still here? Why do you stay?"

A look of hurt confusion passes over ashen faceplates. "Where else would I go? Why would I leave?"

I have no answer to that. I growl in frustration and with a bit more force then intended snap out, "It would be so much easier if you hated me. If you screamed at me to go away, I could then despise myself properly."

"What happened all those vorns ago was not your fault-"

"No, but what happened last cycle was!"

My exclamation echoes about the isolated brig. Recoiling off the walls, my voice bounds back at me, assaulting me with hundreds of cutting whispers. My companion silently withdraws a couple of feet in silent regard.

There, I have said it. Now we can at last stop our tiptoeing around and get to the root of the matter.

My voice starts slowly, acridly, and gains momentum as feelings long buried emerge.

"I should have gone searching for you the moment I recognized this planet as the one we explored, the very one in which you crashed. I am the one who knew you where up in the artic, but instead of utilizing that revelation I didn't even bother myself to inform anyone of your existence; leaving your discovery to random chance. I was completely unsympathetic when you first awoke, instead of greeting you with open arms I handed you a gun, a faction symbol, and an order to get to work! I am the one who had the gall to claim that you betrayed me, when it was I who first betrayed us with what I let myself become! And all for what? Nothing!"

The last part was choked out, my vocal components seizing, causing a fit of sputtered breath. I have grown lightheaded, expending my strength in my need to voice my confession.

Cerulean optics glow expressionless, patiently waiting for me to finish. They seem to be the only thing in this desaturated prison that retain brilliance.

After a few moments I recover enough to speak again. This time in a softer tone.

"I am the one who shot first. At you. What in the world possessed me?"

"You where angry, frustrated. It couldn't be helped."

"For Primus sake Sky! I tried to kill you!"

"I forgive you. It hurts because you refuse to forgive yourself."

I don't have the strength left to argue. The fingers over my wound feel slick with energon.

"The only grievance you have committed is allowing your mistakes to define the relationship between us, and if left to fester, that my love, is unforgivable. But it can be remedied."

This gives me pause. The idea of absolving all offenses made my head swim; I would be driven insane with guilt.

Could I really let it all go?

"We could go flying again, very soon. Would you like that?" He asks taking up my energon stained fingers and cradling them like a delicate organic bird.

Staring at our joined hands, I for once, fully listen to his words. It is true that we have both made mistakes and maybe, just maybe, it truly is time to move on, to pick up where things left off.

Perhaps this is how I find my retribution.

"Yes, Skyfire. I think I would like that very much."

I curl my fingers, hooking them together with the larger pair whom which squeeze mine gently.

A nervous knock announces the presence of Hook. The normally composed medic shifts uneasily from ped to ped whilst still standing at attention. A datapad is griped a little too firmly between twitching servos.

Several moments pass in tense silence.

Swiftly loosing patience, the Decepticon Lord slams his fist into the first piece of furniture unlucky enough to be within reach.

"Well? Out with it!"

"O-of course my lord!" Fumbling with the datapad for a few unnerving seconds, Hook is finally able to bring up the data screen.

"As you are aware my lord, Starscream suffered near fatal damage to the spark casing, the blaster damage severed several major energon lines and left splintered fragments lodged within-"

"Please get to the point, NOW!"

"A-ah Starscream has been in stasis lock ever since we came back from the artic last megacycle, as you of course know."

A growl from Megatron only increased Hooks anxiety.

"As of two breems ago, Starscream deactivated…due to injures. There were no warnings."

Megatron grinds his denta together in frustration, shuttering optics with a sharp intake.

"Go."

"Yes, my lord."

Hook didn't need telling twice, exiting swiftly movements stiff.

Digits rise, messaging at the corners of weary optics. Of all the inconvenient outcomes to have occurred…

Megatron glances down at the datapad left behind by the resident medic. The fatal wound had been inflicted just last mission, a fairly simply affair, tapping into and syphoning energy out of the northern pole. That is, until that infernal shuttle had been unthawed. All had been well, however, like all things connected to his failure of a second in command, all had gone awry. The traitorous shuttle had jumped ship and become an Autobot. As if that was not enough, Starscream and he engaged in an all out dogfight, resulting in both injured flyers crash landing in the ice.

No news on whether or not the shuttle survived. Starscream had not, shot through the spark by his own friend.

While the seeker had always been a proverbial thorn in Megatron's side, the warlord held no lasting grudge against him. Starscream, despite endless attempted back-stabbings, was an extremely competent second in command. His aerial prowess and quick wit made him a valuable resource. Until, of course, his mental state began to corrode to a dangerous point.

In his final days Starscream had been noticeably suffering from delusions and other such neurotic behaviors. The attempts on his leader's life had grown more half-clocked and desperate as megacycles went by. Needless to say the seeker had become a mockery of all things he once embodied, only managing to disgust Megatron further.

His trine mates had even come forth at one point asking that their third be granted temporary medical leave, a request that under the circumstances, was too impractical to implement. The Decepticon cause had no time for hysterics.

Looking back, Megatron wonders if he regrets that decision. It is too late now.

With a last grim smile, the Decepticon lord reflects upon Starscream's ironic death at the hands of his greatest companion. A fitting death, all things considered. Poetic justice.

AN: There you have it! Was Skyfire ever really in the room? We'll never know. Happy Halloween guys!