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It would be different this time. He had said so. He had promised. Starscream chuckled to himself faintly. When had Megatron's promises ever mean anything? He couldn't remember, but he knew that there had been a time when they did. Vorns and vorns ago, it had to be. So long that he could barely recall it.
There had been a time when everything between them hadn't been so.... broken. So jagged and tangled and bloody. There had been a time, however distant, and there had been a place, however faraway, when they had been happy. Starscream could barely even remember that time, and yet he longed for it, ached for it more than anything else. How pathetic was it, he often thought to himself, for him to desire so carnally something that he had willingly cast aside so long ago.
Why? Why was it like this? When had it gone from what he remembered to... this? There was no point in dwelling on it, Starscream knew. Megatron swore that he would change, Starscream believed him, and they were thrown into whatever twisted, intricate dance they had been locked in for... however long it had been. He had come to expect it now. He knew what would happen every time, knew it so well that it had been etched into his frame vorns ago.
He knew it now. Starscream knew the routine. Beat him into the ground, slam him up against the wall, put a heavy, armored pede over his chestplate, squeeze the cables in his neck until his vocalizer spit nothing but static, until his vision was creeping black. Then he would wake up in Knockout's med bad - a punishment in and of itself - with all those cables running into him, his spark aching in a way that Starscream had no words for.
Sometimes, when he awoke, once the error messages on his HUD had died down, he was still on the cold, hard tiled floor of the Nemesis. Sometimes there was no one there to put him back together. He would limp to the med-bay himself - quickly and quietly if he was lucky, but limping and dripping a trail of blue energon droplets more often than not. Sometimes Knockout wasn't there, and before he knew it, he'd be passed out, slumped against the wall, slipping into recharge. Sometimes he would wake up in the morning to find his auto-repair working its magic, and he would work as if nothing had happened.
Mostly, Starscream was not that lucky. It would be days in the medbay on occasion, when he had really fragged up. His cockpit, his wings, his limbs - every part of him would be damaged, paint chipped and plates cracked. Half the time, he didn't even know where most of his injuries came from. Starscream's mind went numb and the world faded to gray halfway through all of it. He wished it would do that more often. Escape was easier than reality. Always had been.
And sometimes, all too rarely - or, rather, not rarely enough - Megatron would still be there when he woke. He would hold the slender Seeker tight to his massive chestplate and promise that he would never do it again. That this was the last time. That he would never hurt him again. Megatron would apologize to him over and over again, whispering into his audial how he would change, how it would never happen again, ever. How no one and nothing would ever hurt Starscream again.
Sometimes it would go on for hours. Until Starscream offlined his optics and slipped into recharge again, until he could almost taste the promise of hope, of something better. Until he believed Megatron.
It was foolish of him to think that his Master had the capacity for change in him. Or the capacity to love Starscream like he had once upon a time. If he ever had, that was. Love was a weakness, that much was clear, and Megatron was without weakness. It was foolish of him to think that his Master cared about him at all, that he was something more than his plaything, to be coddled when Megatron so desired, and to be beaten when Megatron so desired.
Because that was all he was. Megatron's plaything. His perfect little obedient lapdog, who schemed and schemed but never succeeded, who always, always crawled back home, no matter if it was into Megatron's waiting arms or into a puddle of his own energon. That was all he was. Was that all he had ever been? It was getting harder to remember.
He had promised he would change this time. It would be different this time. It would have to be, right?
Starscream picked himself up.
It was time to go home.