Starscream sat on his throne as if he had borrowed it from myth, from a fairy tale where he was a god who crowned himself. His hands were covered in black leather gloves, and his fingers were ringed with rings that caught the light like greedy eyes. The necklaces that jingled with every movement seemed like fetters - but ones he had put on himself so that all could see them shine.
He did not rise when Megatron entered. Only a look - witty, knowing, dangerous.
- You have changed," Megatron said quietly, as if to himself.
- And you still try to sound like a poet," Starscream replied. His voice was restrained, measured, like a council speech. Only the tip of his wing trembled like an old scar.
They stood opposite each other - one, once a tyrant, now in an alien-colored armor, the other, once a rebel, now the embodiment of power.
- I did not come with a request... or an order," Megatron began, "I came... because I had to tell you this. I am sorry. For everything. For the way I... treated you. You deserved better.
Starscream stared at him in silence. Then he pulled out the mouthpiece, lit it slowly, the fragrant smoke wafting softly into the air. He took a drag, released the stream of smoke, and only then did he speak:
- No.
Megatron froze. Starscream continued:
- No, Megatron. You never loved me. You loved only yourself. The only one. And I have always known that.
He stood up, coming closer, not like a former officer, not like a lover, but like a king approaching a captive.
- And if I had suddenly found out that you had fallen in love with me-" his lips curved in a smile without warmth, "I would have killed myself. Only for you to suffer. For the rest of your days.
The mouthpiece clicked softly between his fingers. Megatron did not look away. He stood, taking the blow. Starscream ran his fingers along the edge of his armor - lazily, almost mockingly - and whispered:
- But you didn't fall in love. Praemus be praised.
It was only in that silent luxury that Megatron suddenly realized: forgiveness was a luxury he could never attain.
- I'm not asking to forget. I'm not asking to go back. I just, uh. I don't want what we had to be nothing but pain. I want to know if there's even a tiny part of you where I might not be the enemy.
Starscream stared at him for a long moment. Then stepped forward. Almost right up close.
- There is. A tiny part of you," he whispered. - Where you're not a monster. Where you're just Megatron. But you know what?
He ran his fingers over his face, barely touching-and in that touch was everything: longing, anger, memory.
- That part of me is weakness. And I don't want to be weak anymore.
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