Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Megatron slipped into recharge alone on his berth, only to startle awake what felt like immediately, to distant sounds of voices and construction. He pushed up automatically, ready to go commit violence if it meant he'd get peace, only for chill fear to drench him alongside rage.

It's not unusual, that Megatron dreamed of Iacon. That his processors dragged up old memories. Iacon, Kaon, Vos, Tarn, and other worlds too, and almost always Prime lurking somewhere, braided into his memories in ways he could never fully block or excise.

This was different.

He stood slowly, senses on edge, and crossed the berth room he didn’t recognize. The Lord Protector quarters had been larger, grander, ancient. The room he stood in smelt of masonry dust. It connected to a sitting room, also strange to him, but what locked him up and sent his processors haywire was the energon dispenser on a counter, empty cubes next to it, some used.

He looked around and it hit him that the suite was lived-in. Brand new but a table held a disorganized stack of data pads. Like he'd been staying here for multiple cycles.  Like he lived here.

"This isn't real." His voice came out a harsh rebuke, trying to step back from everything at once.

But it could be.

It hit like a punch straight to the spark, hit so hard that he staggered and took a knee, one hand pressing to his chest plates even as he snarled, engines revving up. "Primus." His rage was met by gentle amusement which only made his mood worse, even as he got his 'pedes back under himself. "Thousands of vorn of silence, and now, you mock me?" No response, through a door swung open. He scowled at it, sneered at the magnetic tug that yanked lightly on his frame. But he moved, to the doorway and no further, finding himself staring out at a slowly rebuilding Iacon.

It could be real. 

"I have nothing to say to a god that abandoned us."

You are so young. 

"If all you are going to do is mock me, then leave me." He stepped onto the balcony, hands landing on the carved rail, and stared out at the city. At mechs working, the noise of construction that had woken him to this... not a dream. Not a dream at all. A vision maybe.

One question then I go. 

There's no one to glare at. The voice felt like it was ringing inside his spark itself, and he refused to look down. "It is not as if you would allow me to refuse."

More amusement, making him nauseated. That Cybertronians are fading away and their long silent god finds humor in his rage.

What would you do to make this real?

His fingers tightened on the rail, and his barely banked anger crested. "What would I do? What haven’t I already done?!"

His angry shout echoed out into the dream city, and distantly, he felt a sensation of shock, then slow cautious inquiry.

Prime.

"Is he here?" Megatron felt long-reinforced blocks on old pathways start to melt, a strange seeping warmth sliding around his spark as if investigating. "Get. Out."

He is here as much as you are here. 

He did not like that answer, even as ancient, long unused senses told him exactly where Optimus Prime was. He looked down, at a courtyard that appeared as he watched, bridging the space between the building he was in and the one across. Which resolved into a cathedral under construction, and as he stared down the two doors were pushed open to frame Optimus.

Optimus Prime, his armor partly stripped, wearing vestments of Primus that hadn't existed in thousands and thousands of vorn. That Megatron remembered him in, when Optimus was new and fresh and so painfully young, and was still settling into his role as a spiritual leader.

Optimus, who looked around then looked up, optics locking onto his own.

Wake up, Lord High Protector Megatron.

His optics flew wide, and there was the sensation of being shoved forward, falling over the balcony then the city dissolved around him into blinding, embracing, thunderous white, like Cybertron itself cracked a path open and let him fall into a spark so ancient he couldn't comprehend time anymore.

Megatron sat bolt upright on his berth, hearing his fans roaring, straining to bring his temperature down. His armor felt as if he'd just rolled out of a smelter, popping and pinging as it cooled, but what really filled him with resignation was watching installation bars fly, watching programming he'd broken and bent and beat eons ago smoothly reinstall.

All the Lord Protector programming that he had subverted by sheer rage and will, restored neatly, all while avoiding everything around it. All his other coding somehow untouched, undisturbed, his processes balancing with a brief sense of vertigo then reaching equilibrium.

Primus, leaving an indelible servo print.

Primus, rewriting him in a way he has no chance to revert. There's nothing to revert to. His logs are blank already. Like the changes he just watched happen, never happened. Like he'd never been different than how he now was.

And the programming was taking stock, and as he shifted to sit on the edge of the berth, error messages came in. He put his elbows on his knees, face buried in servos and tried to find a way to silence the wall of noise he was now receiving.

The sparks of the Decepticons outside his room, passing by in the hall, some already flaring as they sensed something changed.

His EM field, sprawling wide enough it's the whole room and refusing to pull back in.

His configuration, still not right in spite of Primus making... adjustments...

The connection to his Prime, once sealed, buried, ignored, now a wide open road and he can tell that Optimus is awake and alarmed.

Megatron had never claimed to understand the will of Primus, even at his height of service, walking next to Optimus in the tower of Iacon.  That was Optimus' job and he had not envied it. Still, the fact that Primus had apparently chosen to reset them both to positions they hadn't held in millions of years was... strange didn't fully cover it.

Furious didn’t cover it either. All his work to determine his own path, undone in a few hours of recharge.

And what really disgusted him, as he dropped his servos from his face, was that he felt amazing.

He felt light. Fully fueled. Deceptively free even though the chains are paradoxically back on.

Religion is the opiate of the masses. A human saying. Knock Out had explained that opiates were powerful organic pain killers.

He felt like his entire fuel tank was full of that. Like he'd found a better kind of dark energon. Like he was processing fifty pleasure programs at once.

It's not subtle. It's a goddamn star smasher, a quantum weapon. That he was being rewarded for being changed.

Megatron wanted to punch something.

Soundwave chose that moment to ping him a wordless inquiry at the exact same moment Prime focused on him.

He shoved Prime away mentally and stood up, looking down at himself as his fans tapered down, drawing air and venting slowly before moving to meet the challenge head on, leaving his berth. Only to stop with his hand up to open his door, staring at what was hanging there and wondering how he missed it. It was too obvious, too bright. He should have seen it the second he'd sat up on his berth and, yet...

Fear crawled back in even as he rubbed his optics before looking again at the cape and sword that hung there waiting. More vestments lost to the eons. He'd left his cape and sword on the ground in Iacon, as he'd walked away one last time from Optimus Prime. Deliberately shedding the symbols and weight of Lord High Protector as he started savaging his own programming until Prime was marked unfriendly on his optics. Until he'd been able to raise weapons on his former partner.

The cape wasn’t fabric in any way that humans might think about it. It was fine woven wire, heavy. A burden. A symbolic weight that moved with him, swirled around him. It was meant to remind him of the weight of his actions. That all of Cybertron could sway with his motions. And the sword, well.

That was more practical.

"What else are you blocking from my vision?" He asked it quietly, and no response was forthcoming. No change in how he felt, no rogue warmth creeping around his spark chamber like a divine virus. He sneered and lifted the cape, felt the silken-fine wires slide though his servos, the dead weight waiting for him.

He'd been split from Prime and his post far, far longer than he'd served. But his frame still had the motions burned in, swirling it on and letting the catches latch onto his kibble in front of his shoulders. Charge snapped, arcing from him to the catches and their scraplet-sharp bite, then his systems reintegrated it and it settled around his shoulders and down his back, swaying slightly. He shook off, grabbed the sword and transformed it away, felt it click into a gap of his configuration as surely as his cannon.

He opened the door and stepped out, and wasn't surprised to see Starscream waiting there, leaning back on the wall with folded arms, staring at him as his servos rattled.

"This is most unexpected, Lord High Protector." Starscream's glyphs were a mess of highest formality and sneering derision.

"Agreed." He enjoyed how utterly gobsmacked Starscream's expression became even as he schooled his own expression to formal indifference he hadn’t bothered with since Iacon. "It's been a strange morning." He started walking, leaving the seeker sputtering in the hall, EMF rippling with rage and panic and... loss? "Is there a problem Air Lord?"

"My problem is only ever you."

"Mmn. Well. That's hardly unique, is it?" Oh he's enjoying this, enjoying the storm he can sense in a tempest around his seeker as Starscream stomps after him, enjoying how his borderline nonreaction is making the other infuriated.  How has he never just defaulted to Iacon Tower formality just to irritate mechs that deserve it? He'd been depriving himself of some prime (hah) entertainment at almost no personal effort.

He felt Starscream consider violence, and in reaction to the hostile EMF the cape shifted, catching more momentum as he walked, bottom edges curling up and back in defiance of physics. And he felt Starscream notice that and stop walking, alarmed. Megatron only laughed to himself, pinging Soundwave and Shockwave to meet him on the bridge. They agreed, glyphs layered deep with caution. 

Shockwave is going to tell him Primus stepping in is illogical, and Megatron is going to agree, and it's going to be total chaos as the rest of the Decepticons start understanding what's happening. But, from what little he can sense echoing through the empty corridor of his link to his Prime, Optimus is getting it so much worse.

And that cheerful thought let him laugh all the way to the bridge.

The meeting is a disaster but a few things are eventually established and agreed on.

One: to say that Megatron is a security risk is to understate it. Optimus is even good enough to try to focus on him in the middle of discussing the problem. Megatron had envisioned grabbing Optimus' face and shoving him away, leading to a volley of outraged sputtering filling the bond. He hates himself for finding it funny.

Two: the majority of the Decepticons are completely unfamiliar with him in the role as Lord High Protector and are baffled by it. But seeing Soundwave take a knee on instinct alone, helm bowed, made everyone else's total lack of formal protocols almost worth it.

Three: Starscream's trine remembers and knows the protocols and also doesn’t care.

Four, most vitally: if Primus spoke to him, Cybertron is alive. That vision of rebuilding is very possible.

Leading perhaps to five: Primus may have reset him and Prime as a prerequisite to rebuilding. A thin theory, none of them can guess at how Primus thinks (that is after all Optimus' fragging job), but as good a theory as any.

Also leading to six: Megatron and Optimus Prime have both been suborned and recoded by their god with little to no explanation, their free wills compromised. And that? Changes the outlook of the war significantly.

Starscream hit the ceiling, almost, shouting, demanding to know what the point was then? Millions of years of war, loss, their near extinction, for what reason? Was Primus planning on mass resurrection because nothing else would be an apology enough for the silence?!

Megatron could only stare at him, sat back, one arm rested on the table, claw tips tapping softly. "I agree." He watched Starscream get the rug and soapbox ripped neatly out from under his righteous anger. "I agree. I did not ask for or want this. It's just not in my power or ability to change. When our god reaches into your spark and rewrites you, you will find out just how helpless a feeling it is. And either way: these are questions for Prime. He's the speaker for Primus. Bother him."

Starscream's jaw dropped.

"Soundwave, has concerns."

Megatron looked at his most loyal soldier and considered how layered those three words were. Cybertronian had always been a very complex, nuanced language. Its multiple languages at once really, spoken backed by EMF and transmissions, and even spoken alone could take on a multitude of tone and implication. As the war had ground on, their language had hollowed out. EMF tucked tight to frames, transmission ceased. It almost hadn't mattered when they'd picked up organic language.

But they'd had this entire meeting in Cybertronian, and Megatron's field is so wide open it borders on proposition. His entire presence straddles the divine and the obscene. The others had slowly warmed to it, even if Starscream felt like a spikey ball of fury that kept poking between his plates on purpose.

He was of course ignoring it because the other option was validating Starscream's rage and honestly he'd rather toss himself in an ocean trench than start repairing their toxic dynamic.

Soundwave was afraid. Afraid questions would be impropriety or disrespectful. Afraid of other things beyond Megatron's senses. And that wouldn't do at all.

"Voice your concerns. You have more than earned my audials."

Soundwave looked back at him, too controlled to fidget but little sparks of unease crackled in his field. "Lord Megatron, displaying multiple unfamiliar subroutines. Megatron, entire disposition has changed."

"I suppose." No sense arguing about it.

Soundwave looked at Shockwave, and there's a mad flitter of transmission, raw machine code flying back and forth before Soundwave turned back. "Primus, changed Lord Megatron. Soundwave, uncertain how much of Megatron is left. Uncertain who or what speaks."

That made him lift an eyebrow. "Let's begin by emphasizing that I was never that connected to Primus. In fact my relationship with Primus had always at best been.. tolerant. Primus took something from me, mere moments before shoving Lord High Protector programming into me. I have never forgotten that, or forgiven it. So I was more than glad to let Prime deal with our god while I focused on more immediate real concerns. Understood?"

Everyone around the table looked thunderstruck by his casual admittance of heresy. Heresy that flew boldly in the face of his very existence. Biting the very hand that forged him into this.

"Understood." Soundwave's glyphs were still cautious but had lost some of the fear and stiff formality.

"If Primus was going to yank puppet strings and make any Cybertronian into nothing but a telepresence, obliterating that mech into nothing but an extension of some holy algorithm, then it would be Optimus Prime. There were others once who might have served in such divine slavery. Alpha Trion comes to mind. What did you all think the Matrix of Leadership is?" He rubbed his face, staring off. "There were times in Iacon where I wondered who I was speaking to."

Who I was interfacing with.

"Knock Out is familiar with my code. Would it assuage some of your concern if I had him run a deep diagnostic?" He glanced around and saw nodding. "Very well. One thing I can say with confidence: Optimus Prime cannot control me. Never could or will. We are equally weighted and he cannot truly overrule me. He can, in extremis, rebuff me. Stay my hand. That's it. And no action I take, moving forward, will ever put the Decepticons at risk. No matter what Primus may say or think, I have not forgotten the cause or our many sacrifices. There is no way forward that doesn't have the Decepticons treated with the honor that warriors deserve." He looked at Soundwave and got a single, respectful nod. He stood, let the cape move and settle, and walked out, cutting through the ship towards the thrum of Knock Out's spark.

"You know, there is a persistent rumor that you're Optimus Prime's mate." Knock Out closed the cabinet he had been doing inventory on, back to Megatron.

"And you decided now is the perfect time to ask about it?" Megatron drawled.

"Well you walked in and felt me up with your field. So." He turned and leaned back on the cabinets, arms crossed and fixing Megatron with a gaze.

"I did no such thing. This is the default of my field with this programming running. If I was feeling you up, you would know."

He lifted his eyebrows. "You're in a good mood. I can see why it got you sent to medical. Come on, step up, give me your wrist ports."

Megatron snorted and stepped forward, holding one arm out, the port cover there folding away. "Try not to melt your processors."

"Big talk, I've seen your systems before." Knock Out pulled his diagnostics cables and grabbed a can of cleaner, shaking it and sanitizing Megatron's ports.

"It wasn't Optimus. It was Orion Pax."

That clearly threw him off.  "What? Wait."

"Orion Pax was my mate. He's dead. Optimus Prime is not Orion Pax. I lost him the moment Primus shoved the matrix of leadership into his chest. And barely had time to register that loss before I became Lord High Protector."

Knock Out stood staring, cables lamely held in one hand, clearly wrapping his processors around that. "That both explains a lot and nothing whatsoever." He gesticulated with his free hand. "You both changed. And yeah I am not a true believer-"

"In the Decepticons or Primus?"

That got Megatron a withering look. "You are as always a horrible patient. Just let me run diagnostics on you."

"Here I stand, my ports open. What's stopping you?"

Knock Out used more force than strictly needed to plug his cables in, both hands steadying Megatron's arm, optics cycling and spiraling. He wasn't seeing Megatron or the room anymore, Megatron knew. He could feel Knock Out pulling up system logs, running diagnostic subroutines, clever sharp-tipped fingers leafing through all the usual spots there would be a programming issue.

The moment that Knock Out found the Lord High Protector programming was obvious. He froze, optics wide and sightless, claws digging into Megatron's arm as he reflexively tensed. Megatron was already well aware how strange it was, a massive programming patch that was so smooth and unblemished it was like a sparkling, surrounded on all sides by millions of years of progress and growth. Oh, and it was unmistakable holy code. That probably didn't help.

Knock Out's fans roared to life as his processors maxed out. Megatron just waited, passive as he ever is, letting his clever little medic and interrogator ride his processes. He took the opportunity to look back for just a moment. Knock Out was a knife, fast, gleaming, sharp, capable of cruelty when necessary. His softer side lay in dust, silent alongside the half of his spark that had been torn away from him with Break Down going offline.

It made a little sense, why Knock Out had asked if Optimus was Megatron's mate. Especially given the shared spark that was blinding Knock Out's processors.

Megatronus and Orion Pax, for a glittering gleaming brief moment in ancient history, had been a binary star system. Megatron and Optimus Prime were two black holes in a death dance, every spark spin one step closer to event horizon and utter oblivion.

Knock Out ripped the cables free and staggered back, leaning on the cabinets, fans still roaring. "What the frag." It's a ragged croak in Cybertronian, like he'd been screaming.

"Yes, divine spark light is never kind I'm afraid. I did warn you."

"Well you are absolutely still Megatron if that's what they're worried about." He rubbed his face with both hands, kibble jittering as he trembled. "There are processes you're running that I don't recognize but they aren't sapping your systems. Overall you're in peak condition. Best shape I've ever seen you in. Primus even cleared a bunch of your lingering trauma subroutines."

"That might explain why I feel like I'm running pleasure programming."

"Sometimes the absence of pain is such a relief that your frame can read that relief as pleasure. He absolutely gave you succor." He dropped his hands, folding his arms over his spark chamber and looking away. "You're sitting at 115% power but you're showing no overcharge symptoms. If I didn't know better I'd say you have an entire tank of war grade running through you. Some of your bad welds have smoothed and integrated better. Oh. And your kibble is different. Maybe shift to your alt mode later, see what's changed. And this is where I'd snark about you finding someone willing to work off that overcharge but, I'm not sure you could."

Megatron rolled his optics. "Is that all, doctor?"

"Get out of my medbay."

He retreated, closing his wrist ports and rubbing over it as he walked, politely ignoring the field of rage and sorrow that bloomed behind him as Knock Out silently broke down as he processed that Primus was real, and that it changed nothing that had happened.

Megatron is sitting on his berth, in the middle of writing fast and sloppy, when Optimus pinged his systems. He shrugged it off and continued, determined to write, to let the poetry out because it's been hundreds of vorn since he really felt like writing. Like writing was worth it, like the words easily come to hand.

Optimus backed off, at least. Still there, but less looking over his shoulder and more seated on the other side of the room. It's a familiar sensation. Breaking from his Prime had had innumerable consequences, but even after millions of years of strife, his systems still fully expected to see Optimus in the room when he looked up.

His Prime was branded and burned deep into his frame. And the only real salve on that eternal open wound was that Optimus would always look up, and expect to see him.

He stared at the datapad, at his messy Cybertronian glyphs digging into revolution, and orbit, and two black holes pulling at each other. Blunt imagery but his poetry had never aimed for subtle. He'd always written to provoke emotions.

Something that felt dangerously like affection curled in the bond and he nearly threw the data pad in the general direction of Optimus (who was on the Ark, some distance away). He could go call Teletraan and yell at whoever answered on the Autobots side. Always an option.

"What. Do you want?" He asked the empty air of his room instead, optics narrowed, and got a data ping in reply. He quarantined his inbox and accepted it, then checked for viruses before opening it. A map with a pin dropped, and a time.

He rubbed his chin, and replied with acknowledgement/agreement before returning to his writing.

Some conversations just needed to be in person. And maybe the autobots would do something stupid, like letting Optimus go alone.

Optimus had chosen open desert for their meeting point. A playa, no cover, just empty flat dry land stretching for kilometers in every direction. It made it very easy to see that multiple autobots had come with him, but Optimus always pulled optics.

Especially since he, too, had regained his vestments.

Optimus' cape blew in the air, light and ethereal, the bright light of the yellow star shining though it so much it looked like the cape was glowing. But it never tangled around or wrapped him. He stood separately from his soldiers, head up to watch the Decepticons arrive, and Megatron's spark stuttered in his chest.

Optimus always had blue optics.  Blue like the hottest fire, the coldest ice. Blue of jewels.

His optics were liquid gold.

Any calm that Megatron had dissolved under the brunt of his rage even as he transformed and landed, letting his own cape settle as his people landed behind him. Now that they were on the ground, he saw the large shield in one of Optimus' hands.

"That. Is not Optimus." Starscream's voice was quiet, for once. "This is foolishness. We are in danger."

"Yes." He narrowed his eyes and raised his voice to a shout. "You are not who I am here to speak to."

Optimus blinked twice and blue returned. He tipped his head, and when Megatron huffed and nodded, walked forward.  Megatron stood his ground and Optimus stopped halfway, striking the shield into the ground and drawing a straight line, separating their sides before straightening and stepping back.

Megatron walked forward, memories flooding him. How many times had they done this? How many split circles had littered Iacon and random locations on Cybertron and beyond? He stood on the line, transformed the sword out, dug the tip into the ground and spun. The circle completed, split evenly, and he felt.. something, acknowledge what they just did.

Consecrated ground. Ritual of meeting.

He stepped back and stabbed the sword into the ground outside the circle, waiting. Optimus stepped up and spiked the shield into the ground, then stepped into his half of the circle and took a knee, bowing his helm before lifting it again.

Differential to Megatron even if this is their even ground.

Megatron stepped in and dropped to one knee, aware that those they brought were staring, silent. A few may have seen this, or seen the split circles in Iacon, where city maintenance made them permanent in precious metals or contrasting stone.

"You called this meeting. I have one question to start." When Optimus nodded, mask folding away, he continued. "Did you do this to us? Did you somehow... arrange, or plan this? Did you raise the attention of Primus?"

"No. I did not."

He was mostly expecting the refutation. He was not expecting the anger in Optimus' voice, or that flashed in his eyes. "Surely you are getting what you wanted?"

"Not like this." Optimus shook his head. "I have been praying for millions of years. Failed vision quests, failed ritual, nothing but silence as I could not end this war and our people died. I had given up. The voice of a dead god, I thought." His optics were steady on Megatron's, but his voice was seething. "I was as shocked as you were. To be... reached, again. And with so little regard for the pain and loss. I was willing to give anything to end this war. But part of that giving is the willing choice to give."

"You have had a lot of choices stolen. We have had a lot of choices stolen." Megatron allowed.

"I want to end this war. And I think what Primus did, changing us, may end it. It has already led to this." Optimus' hands were shaking slightly.

"Tell me what you are planning. Because you are always glorious when incandescent with rage and it is so rare I have seen it."

Optimus looked at him, mouth quirked, before leaning forward. Megatron quirked a brow and leaned in too, their helms almost brushing. "How do you feel about revolution?"

Megatron was blown back eons in his memory. To Orion Pax in his tiny apartment talking about injustice. To walking out of the gladiator pits to his archivist. To his first taste of freedom from those chains. To writing poetry that would put flame to a powder keg while drunk on trash quality high grade. "Revolution?" It comes out involuntarily as a purr. "I may have written extensively on the subject. What do you have in mind?"

"I think we need to send a message to Primus that we are not pleased by his silence as 99% of our people died. Especially since this proves he could have forced this reconciliation vorn ago." Optimus' anger was a physical thing, rolling in his field, heady and almost alien. Megatron had felt his anger and his hate before, this was something else entirely, a black bitter rage. "He abandoned us and stepped back in when we have barely enough left alive to return from extinction. If we are lucky."

"And he abandoned you. His supposed voice. His herald." Megatron was thoughtful. He'd never given much thought into how that silence had to be affecting Optimus, who walked with the matrix heavy in his chest, pressing against his spark chamber.

"The other option is that this is punishment. All the dead are our fault in the end. This war is the foundation of our extinction and I accept my role in every spark lost. But, if Primus could have ended the war and saved lives, why didn't he?" Optimus' optics darted away, staring off over the playa. His jaw worked, a nervous tic that drew Megatron's attention to a scar on his chin that also crossed over his lips.

Shockwave getting a lucky blow in that had snapped Optimus' battle mask and come close to offlining him. The Autobots had driven Shockwave back after as Optimus reeled, one hand to his bleeding face, and Megatron's programming had become so swamped with errors he'd retreated and focused on helping Shockwave.

"I always accepted your guidance on the will of Primus. So tell me what you think."

"I think Primus is negligent. That he, he took a nap and woke up to find his own surface abandoned and us all but gone. And that fixing us was the easiest means to an end." Optimus kept staring away. "It's easier to think of him as negligent, instead of malicious. Or perhaps he is just so alien to us, so ancient, that our lives barely calculate into his processes."

"Considering how he spoke to me in our... shared vision? And forced us here. I think that's not the case. Obviously Primus has run calculations. But to what end and why now, when it is all but too late?"

"Would you be here in this split circle if he hadn't forced you?"

"Absolutely not. I hate this. I loathe that once again I am altered with no say."

"Well that's par for the course." Optimus huffed, optics tracking back. "Amazing how so little changes over so long a time."

Megatron considered him. "Primus was using you when we arrived, wasn't he?"

"Yes. He wanted to see you arrive. Hear you address me." The anger around Optimus roiled again. "That you immediately recognized it caught him off guard I suspect."

That made Megatron guffaw. "He knows I am not fond of him and knows I am long used to looking for him in you. What right has he, to be surprised?" Optimus looked at him, jaw working again, and he made a snap decision. "Stop biting back your words. Do not give me diplomacy or grace. Give me your rage."

"You do not want me to do that."

"Oh I do. A wound is clearly festering.  Lance it now or we will never be able to proceed towards the revolution you so dearly desire."

Optimus closed his optics, ex venting hard. "Stand up."

What does it say that Megatron is excited to do so, standing and stepping back slightly? That the gladiator never left the pit, perhaps. That he's stupid, very probably. Regardless, he made himself stand still as Optimus stood, looked at him then opened his chest plates and removed the matrix of leadership.

By the shocked sounds from their soldiers, no one expected that. Most had probably never seen it. The sounds escalated when Optimus held it up in one hand then just dropped it behind himself, outside the circle.

"Optimus!" Protested Prowl, and was treated to a hand cutting midair, a clear cease gesture as Optimus kept staring at Megatron.

His EMF changed. Saturated. Went shock bright with emotion, far beyond the black rage and weary exhaustion of before.

No surprise. Megatron was well aware the matrix crushed Optimus' emotions. But feeling the hold loosen in real time was... heady, and dangerous.

"You want to chat? Let's chat. And you stay shut the frag up and listen until I tell you I want a reply."

Megatron lifted his brows.

"Did you think I didn't see your face after I became Prime. Did you think I wasn't standing there in shock and agony and pleasure and panic in a body too big and a chest too heavy, only to stare at nothing but horror on the face of my conjunx. Do you think that didn't punch me in the spark to feel you recoil from me and our bond. To feel cracks start. TO REALIZE YOU DID NOT SEE ME AS MYSELF.  To hear you say the name I lost before Primus saw you." He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking. "I felt Primus track our bond. I felt the god that had just blown all my struts out to oblivion delight that I came with a Lord High Protector all ready for an upgrade. And I was as helpless to stop it as I was to stop my own ascension."

Megatron could only look at him and let the tsunami of words hit and sweep him up. Let the rage and agony and loss of Optimus' EMF hit him like a physical blow. He wanted the rage. He had not expected the sorrow.

"To feel our bond driven deeper. Not conjunx, fully shared sparks. And feel the fragging light die. You fought so fraggin hard for change and refused to accept change in me. How the slag is that fair?! Orion Pax didn't die you, you..." he shut his optics. "I'm right here. And you are blind to it. You never stopped looking for who I used to be. You never stopped loving Orion Pax while being bonded to Optimus Prime and nothing I did fixed it until everything between us wilted and withered and rotted even as we walked through Iacon together."

"I thought I was the poet." He said it softly.

That earned him a death glare. "I could kill you."

"And kill us both?"

"That is not necessarily a dissuasion. Take this seriously or I walk out of this circle, reconciliation be damned. I am willing to die to make Primus understand the injustices he has ignored and allowed. To us, to our people, to Earth as collateral in our desperation. Are you?"

"Is it my turn now?" When Optimus clearly nearly threw a punch and aborted the action, one hand tense in a shaking fist, he continued. "Of course I always looked for Orion Pax. You're right. You were him. He's not technically dead. He is gone, none the less. Gone is my sweet brave archivist, gone was our little life. And for a split second, watching the matrix take you, I was proud. Of course Orion was worthy. No one else on Iacon was so deserving. Then our conjunx bond turned to shattered glass. Then your agony reached me. I watched your programming shuffle and divine patches be installed and watched you become Prime and a different mech on every level. That is why I was horrified. For what was done to you. To us. Feeling the sliver of freedom we had fought for, taken by our god as if it was nothing. And I barely had time to process that before my processes were seized and light blinded me and voices bellowed arise, Lord High Protector ." He sneered. "You dissolved from my hands and I am still the gladiator barely out of the pits. The more things stay the same, hm?"

"Yes, the more time passes the more you double down on the hypocrisy. You've changed an equal amount, you can't see it. And I am somehow not allowed to change in spite of it being no choice of mine?! GROW UP, MEGATRON. OPEN YOUR OPTICS. We both failed catastrophically. We were given a real chance to change Cybertron for the better and we squandered it. Not only squandered it but ruined everything. I acknowledge my own failures. That I was too stuck in protocols, too unwilling to fight the council, too blind to my own permissiveness of a system that we had been trying to change. But how the frag was I supposed to have the strength to fight when the one mech that was supposed to be my support system was crumbling out from under me?!" Optimus got in his space, teeth bared.

Megatron rocked back slightly then scowled, leaning in and snarling. "Do not dare accuse me of not fighting for us! I did. My calls went unanswered, my pleading unheard, my rage rebuffed. In the good moments you listened but you almost never acted. Support is mutual."

Silence, on the playa. He can hear their soldiers shifting, feel their discomfort in watching this fight play out. All knew the story, some in part, some in whole. Pits, some had watched in person as it had happened. Were in Iacon watching the schism grow and grow, and the discomfort in the populace because the wrongness was so pervasive. A synched, harmonized pairing of Prime and Lord High Protector were supposed to help voice the people. Their spiritual and physical protection, support. The audials that heard them and amplified them.

For a while it had worked. For all the gears between them ground, for all they struggled to find each other under all the new layers tangible and not, they had served well, for a time. They were even happy for a time. Those gold-limned memories never felt real.

Optimus stared at him, shoulders slowly slumping, and the rage between them sputtered, extinguished, the void it left filling with sorrow and failure and hope dying, like-

"No." He said it without any thought, snarling it.

Optimus startled, mostly shuttered optics opening wide. "No?"

Megatron stepped forward, dragged a ‘pede on the ground. Marred the line separating them. "We let them make the split circles permanent and kept using them even though all they did was reinforce that we are separate. No." He reached out, grabbed a windshield wiper and yanked Optimus forward as he stepped in. Uniting them chest to chest over the broken line. "No. You are not separate from me, Optimus Prime. You want me to open my optics? To fight? Fine. I choose to fight for what was stolen from us. I choose to fight for our retaliation against our negligent cruel silent god. I choose to fight for who we lost and those that survived. And in that choice you are not separate from me, you are not permissive, you are not biddable, you do not so willingly bend and let Primus use you. Can you handle that, Orion?"

Optimus stared back at him, jaw slack and eyes damp, then slowly sagged, head dropping until his helm was on Megatron's shoulder, face tucked into neck cables. One still-curled fist lightly thumped Megatron's hip before those hands settled on his back. Megatron let go of the windshield wiper, that hand moving to cup the back of Optimus' neck, other spreading on the small of his back.

Silence, for multiple spark turns, before Optimus shuddered all over, optical fluid dripping on Megatron's shoulder plate. "I missed you." It's the faintest breath of a whisper, and Megatron pressed his optics closed, tightening his grip.

It felt like a start.

It felt like hope.

Eventually they have to let go of each other.

It doesn’t feel right. Everything in Megatron says crack chest plates, resolidify their bond. But there's a time and a place for such things and it's not in a dusty split circle on a playa while their soldiers look on with unease.

So they let go of each other, step back simultaneously, each marring the line of the circle before stepping out. They picked up sword and shield, held them out pointing in opposite directions,  and transformed them away. Ceremony complete, they both called for their people, and slowly Autobots and Decepticons walked closer to each other.

"Truce." Optimus said firmly.

"Truce." Megatron agreed. "Full ceasefire with a goal to eventually combine forces."

"Have you lost your mind?" Starscream sounded numb.

"No. In fact I think I've experienced clarity for the first time in eons."

"We understand few will be happy about this. We all did terrible things in the furtherance of this conflict, myself included. But if we don't stop, we will die out. And I think those of us that have somehow made it this far deserve to find peace and happiness on Cybertron once more." Optimus had positioned to address Autobots and Decepticons both, voice carefully and even, that rich oil bath voice that felt like it could sink into aching joints. "And we have a window of opportunity."

"We think, if Primus did this, then Cybertron is viable. In spite of surveys suggesting largely otherwise." Megatron was next to Optimus, and it felt simultaneously familiar and strange.

"We agree. If Primus was able to reach out to us, here, almost like we are in Iacon, then Cybertron lives on. I want to establish a treaty, today, so we can work towards an expedition." He looked at Starscream.  "And for that, we will need you."

Clever, clever Optimus, thought Megatron, even as Starscream drew up in shock. "What do you mean, Prime?"

"Your trine. Fastest and most coordinated of the air frames, and I do not mean just of those that have survived. You hold the title of Air Lord, and I know well your skills. A high altitude survey of the surface with more detailed imagery of the major city locations might be helpful. And of course any energon flow needs to be noted. We do not need to return only to starve."

Starscream stared at him, clearly in thought. "This is a risk."

"It is."

"We will need energon. Full tanks."

"And you'll have it."

"And I want land holding."

"Cybertron belongs to us all. But I have zero issue handing the fallen city of Vos to its rightful lord."

"Not much left standing there. And I imagine we will be focusing on Iacon for some time." Megatron had folded his arms, servos softly tapping there. "So, if and when we build in Iacon I imagine we can give the top floor of the tallest building to his trine as well."

Optimus inclined his head to that suggestion then looked to Starscream. "Is that sufficient compensation for the risk?"

"I, yes. If you will honor it."

"You see those around you bearing witness. Do you trust them to keep us accountable?"

He glanced sideways, at Prowl and Jazz. "Reluctantly."

"Very good. Does anyone here take issue with this arrangement?" Optimus glanced around and everyone else acquiesced. "We need to do some planning.  Ideally we'd join bases but I am uncertain the Ark can house everyone comfortably."

"And our situation is worse. We may simply be cramped for a brief while. It's hardly the worst hardship." Megatron shrugged. "... we have been struggling with consistent energon supply for some time. I have a stockhold but it's meant for emergency or evacuation."

"We'll get everyone fed. That, I will make certain."

Megatron nodded. "Reach me through teletraan. I'm going to inform the Decepticons and possibly dodge mutiny."

Optimus smiled. "It won't be that bad. They'll come around."

"Ever the optimist."

"Well. I did get stuck with this name. Goodbye, Megatron. We will see you soon."

-

The Decepticons already knew by the time they returned. Com messages, Starscream calling his trine, who had apparently shouted the base down that the war was over. Reception to the news seemed mixed. Some sorrow, some concern and trepidation, but primarily, relief. The pervasive grinding malaise that had saturated the halls slowly drained, even as Megatron was giving initial orders for packing up and transferring to the Ark.

Not a few thought that the Autobots were going to take their supplies then eliminate them. Megatron knew there was no changing minds on that belief. Nothing he could say would suffice. Millions of years of strife and hate didn’t fade in hours, or days. Whether it would fade over years would just have to be seen.

That said he's not surprised that Starscream's trine was gone before nightfall, packing what very little they cared about and taking off for the Ark. Megatron only told them to reach out if there's problems, and focused on mobilizing everyone else.

"It is logical."

He looked up from a datapad that was covered in information from the Ark, real time stats and a Primus damned floorplan showing personnel berthing and Prowl working overtime to house the Decepticons (there's going to be a lot of shared rooms and can the Decepticons bring berths with them? The Autobots will help move them). "Hm?"

"This truce is logical."

"So glad you agree." He lifted a brow.

"I was aware of the narrowing population. If the numbers Prime sent are accurate, Cybertronians sit just above a threshold where extinction would be inevitable, without revival of the spark wells, which is so narrow a possibility I do not bother including it as a calculation variable. I have no interest in mutually assured destruction, though I was long resigned to that as the conclusion."

Megatron sat back in the chair, staring at him. "You have always believed failure was inevitable?"

"I am loyal to the cause. That does not mean I ever calculated victory in the long term. This war ended with you and Prime with weapons to each other's helms, surrounded by the dead." Shockwave stared back. "It is a relief to calculate new variables."

"Interesting. And how long have you been calculating that result?"

"Five million years."

He stared at that single eye, and felt just as judged as when Primus had servos dug deep into his spark. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Calculations suggested nothing would change."

He ex-vented hard. "We know we failed. But even then I would have listened. You and Soundwave always have my trust, and my audials. And that the war is over does not change that. I fully intend to have you both with me at command meetings. The Autobots will have to accept that."

Shockwave just barely tipped his head in acknowledgement. Soundwave, silent so far, nodded once.

"My calculations often implied a missing variable. One I could not compensate or calculate. It would seem that variable was Primus."

"How dare the divine make your equations unsolvable."

"Just so." Shockwave of course was beyond the humor of the statement, but by the flitter of light across Soundwave's mask, he was momentarily amused.

"Well. No changing the past. All we can do is try to fix the future. To that end, Prime and I discussed something. It's possible we won't have skills necessary for a task we may undertake. If that is the case, I may consult you both for your expertise and trust you to keep my council."

They both nodded. "Soundwave, intrigued."

"Sadly I can't divulge anything further. Now," he held up the data pad, lifting a brow again. "Did either of you ever imagine we would have an open data connection to the Ark?"

Slowly, Decepticons left for the Ark and didn't come back.

Megatron keeps track of them all as they slowly strip the base and relocate. It could have been done in three of Earth's days. But, both sides seemed to be benefiting from a more gradual change.

Optimus sent him pictures. Starscream's trine sitting with Skyfire. Knock Out in the Ark's medical ward with Ratchet and Wheeljack, in the middle of what looked like an argument if not for how damned amused Ratchet looked. Pictures catching little moments of mingling, of bridges being built.

Part of Megatron is certain he'll see the last mechs off and arrive with Soundwave and Shockwave, and everything would go straight to the pits. But he knows, too, it's cowardice. Fearing the future, fearing the system shock that will be working in sync with Optimus again.

Fearing it wouldn't be system shock at all.

"Tell Prowl to stop comming me and take twelve Earth hours off." He told the empty air around him in irritation, making Soundwave look at him.

The bond with Optimus filled with amusement, and not a small amount of helplessness. Wish I could.

"He is your damn Second in Command. You have command over him, act like it." He knocked back a cube of energon.

You have room to speak, truly, because that felt like war grade.

"So what if it was? It's from my personal stash and your damned to the lowest pits SIC is trying to run me to failure."

Soundwave now had his chin on one hand, elbow on the table, watching this play out, his EMF slowly filling with wry amusement.

Not for much longer. You could pull out for the Ark now if you wanted.

"Six hours. We're securing the base as well as we can, since I'm certain the humans will pillage it the moment they stop tracking activity. So we are leaving it in a safe condition. "

Optimus was so plainly delighted the bond rang with it like crystal bells. Thank you, for doing that.

"I'm having that done for you, so you should be thankful. With travel time, we'll be there in just under ten hours." Ghostly impressions of Optimus' servos brushed one of his shoulders, then the presence waned, pulled back to his own side of the bond. "He has always been so Primus damned good at that. Ugh."

"Query, what was 'that'?"

"Optimus Prime and I have shared sparks. It's something a bit more complex and deep than an average conjunx bond. Closest equivalent is spark twins." Megatron shrugged, moving to check screens.  The last of the Decepticons had left for the Ark a few hours ago. He, Soundwave and Shockwave were the only mechs left.

Math was racing across Soundwave's mask, which was mostly for Megatron's benefit even if Soundwave said nothing, just looked at him.

"I had to do a lot of work to block the bond until a blow to him would no longer end me. Until I stopped hearing him calling. Until he stopped feeling my rage. Millions of years of learning to stand alone and fighting my Prime. All for nothing it seems." He stared at camera feeds that showed abandoned base corridors and rooms. "For all it stanched a wound nearly eight million years old, I am uncertain if this is an ending I would have willingly chosen."

"This was not failure, or loss, or surrender. It is simply, change."

That made him look back to Soundwave. "Perhaps."

"This is why my calculations always ended on mutually assured destruction."

Megatron turned to face Shockwave. "Oh?"

"It is the only ending that allowed yourself and Prime to be together in any capacity."

Megatron stared, very much feeling that verbal punch to the face. "Well, frag you too."

"I am many things.  I am not fast, on the ground or in the air. How do we intend to allow me to reach the Ark without being shot out of the sky by human forces?"

Megatron stared at him. Shockwave stared back. Megatron gave up and commed Prowl.

Megatron has never bothered to learn the intricacies of human politics.  He knows there's dozens of separate nations, hundreds of languages, a complex web of allies and opponents. Even inside a nation there could be conflict. Humans had embraced free will in a way that made unity a distant dream, but simultaneously, for all there always seemed to be a conflict somewhere, those conflicts were contained and much of the population enjoyed relative peace.

He didn’t understand it, and didn't want to. The whole of human society was a particularly long nap for a Cybertronian. Still, he sort of begrudgingly respected it. Not that he'd tell them that.

He respected it enough, and had a detailed enough brief from Prowl, that he doesn't start combat protocols when human fighter jets fall in with him, Soundwave and Shockwave. They're obvious, none of them are even trying to pass for earth craft. Megatron is close, but any human that looked twice would know something is off. His cohort are in Cybertronian flight forms, and neither are built for speed, though it seemed their cruising speeds were respectable compared to the jets moving with them. The human squad leader broadcast at him, he acknowledged, and just focused on following their route.

Their escort changed a few times. The jets changed color and model at some point. Once a massive plane paced them a distance away and the jets peeled away one by one to refuel in midair, then the refuel craft turned and left them on their journey.

He's relieved when they come in for approach, all pulling up and transforming to land on their feet at the entrance of the Ark. The jets flew a few loops and were gone, leaving them as Optimus walked out to meet them.

Optimus had stripped all his extra armor. He was down to only basic kibble, what was necessary for his alt mode and nothing else. It made him visually lighter, more trim in a way he hadn’t seemed in years, and somehow more youthful even for the visible scars. And his optics were flickering, a rapid stutter between gold and blue before settling to blue. "Welcome."

"The humans kept trying to talk to us."

He smiled a bit. "They do that. I informed them the war is over and they should expect no further hostility from any Cybertronian."

"I imagine most Decepticons will avoid them."

"A few of yours are still roaming. Barricade seems to be enjoying his current alt mode actually."

"He does." Megatron looked past Optimus to where other mechs are looking out at them. "Well if it's all going to fall apart this is the moment. After all it is us three I imagine most Autobots would never forgive or even tolerate."

"It's handled. I do need to speak to Shockwave though."

"All of us or none of us." Megatron gritted out.

Optimus put his empty hands up then looked at Shockwave. "If you would trust me to speak to you and place a hand on your shoulder, old friend?"

Megatron and Soundwave stepped aside, just a bit. Shockwave stared at Optimus, clearly in thought for several long silent moments. "It is illogical to expect me to trust you."

"It is. But for this to work, certain variables must change. Repairs made. Do you agree?"

Another silence, and Megatron found himself reaching down the bond, alarm rising for what was about to happen, only to slam right into a wall of golden light that rebuffed him away. He threw himself at it, eyes narrowed, and made no progress. "Prime."

"I agree." Shockwave replied as Megatron said that, and Optimus stepped forward, one hand settling on Shockwave's shoulder. There was a moment, then Shockwave nodded and Optimus' other hand spread on his chest as he moved, one 'pede taking Shockwave to his knees, and Shockwave allowed it.

Megatron barely had time to get combat protocols up before blinding light knocked him back, staggering as Soundwave did. He knows this sight and feeling of course. It's the Matrix of Leadership, lit up supernova-bright. It's Primus, shining though Optimus' form like a beacon, so incandescent his struts showed in silhouette for a split second.

Then it's over, and Optimus is standing over Shockwave. But, it's not Shockwave, and Megatron's jaw dropped as Soundwave straightened up beside him.

"Welcome back, Senator." Optimus offered a hand down. "It has been too long, old friend."

Senator Shockwave had a hand to his face, optics round in shock and optical fluid dripping in streaks. But he looked up and caught Optimus' hand, let himself be pulled to his 'pedes. "I. I..."

"They would have never accepted what you were made. But they will accept what you were. You don't have to say anything now, if you don't want."

Shockwave stared at him, then reached out and yanked him into a tight embrace, shaking all over. "It is a relief to be free, old friend."

Optimus returned the hug, sagging a bit into it, optics closed.

Megatron had finally finished processing that Optimus had reversed Empurata when Optimus let go and stepped back, only to pass out. Megatron lunged and caught him before he hit the ground. He was kneeling there, cradling Optimus' inert form, when Ratchet arrived, Wheeljack and Knock Out close behind.

Megatron was sprawled on a berth, Optimus laying across his chest like he was installed there, when he started to wrap his processors around what he'd just been witness to.

He'd carried Optimus to medbay, letting Ratchet's complaining wash over him like rain, insubstantial and clinging. Behind them, Wheeljack and Knock Out were walking with an extremely shaky Senator Shockwave, who seemed on the cusp of passing out himself.

Once in medbay he'd been instructed to set Optimus on a table but not lose contact with him as Ratchet uncovered and plugged into Optimus' wrist jacks. Only for his optics to go wide before he unplugged and was moving, pulling kibble aside and starting a fuel tap line then plugging a massive cube of medical grade energon into it. It disappeared terrifyingly fast, but Ratchet had another, and it was only on the third that the speed of the flow slowed down.

"He was down to two percent of his reserve tank. Not his main, that was dry. His reserve." Ratchet told Megatron grimly. "I think whatever he did flash burned almost every bit of energon in his body. His pumps were off and lines were going dry. Instant total starvation."

Megatron glanced at Shockwave, sitting on a medical table drinking his own cube of medical grade energon as Knock Out did the gentlest exam Megatron has ever seen him do. "I think what he did was a miracle."

"Pfah." Ratchet made a face, jacked into Optimus again. "Reserve tank is filled, pumps are back on, main tank at sixty percent. I won't fill him further than that but when he wakes up, make sure he fuels to full."

Megatron cycled his optics, speechless that the notorious head Autobot medic was just handing him a helpless Prime. But then, Ratchet had been there when they both were serving in Iacon. Pits, Ratchet had been there before Prime. When Orion Pax had somehow gotten Megatron onto Ratchet's schedule as 'conjunx of Pax' to look at a bad shoulder Megatron had been ignoring.

Ratchet remembered, and by the look he was giving Megatron, he didn’t intend to let Megatron forget anything either.

Somehow that led to Megatron carrying a barely alert Optimus through the Ark, Autobots and Decepticons alike stepping aside and watching them. Prowl had led them to the room Optimus was using and opened it, giving Megatron a long look before stepping aside.

The Autobots didn't trust him, and for damn good reasons. Except perhaps Ratchet.

The room was recently redone and had two berths shoved together. It was clear that Optimus had been intending for them to share and with doctors orders to not leave Optimus alone, Megatron had shut the door and laid Optimus down. The cape had not wanted to come off but eventually yielded to his hands, and he stuck the bitey catches to the wall, hanging his own cape next to it. Only then did he lay down slowly, on his back next to Optimus, set on ignoring the barely-open optics looking at him.

And Optimus moved, flopping across his chest and planting his face into Megatron's neck cables before sinking back into recharge with a purr.

Megatron, pinned only because he could feel the raw exhaustion pulling Optimus down, shuttered his optics and played Optimus' miracle over and over. There were plenty of stories of Primus doing magnificent things. The spark wells, the shifting planetary surface, the energon flow, all just part of how Cybertron functioned. There had been Primes like Alpha Trion, who had seen visions and wielded telekinesis.

He'd never heard of anything like Optimus had done. Optimus had restored Shockwave to factory settings while preserving his memory. Effectively undoing all of what was done to Shockwave. He was forced to admit, as his tactical processors weighed it up, that it was a brilliant plan. Not one he'd have ever considered possible. But a brilliant one.

A lot of Autobots were rightly terrified of Shockwave. Some had barely survived being in his company. Many likely held grudges. Optimus hadn't stopped a problem; he'd made the entire situation disappear. No one would conflate the Senator with the interrogator.

Megatron is still running warm, wargrade in his lines, and Optimus stirred, trying to press in more. Then sharp teeth found a sensitive spot on his neck, making Megatron jump. "If you don't return to recharge your medic will send me to the pits."

"You woke me up." Optimus mumbled around his mouthful of Megatron's neck cabling, canines pricking. "Stop thinking."

"Yes, I'll just stop all my processes shall I?" He knows he sounds stressed and waspish.

"The problems will be there in the morning. Stop thinking."

"I just watched you do something never mentioned in the oldest of legends and you want me to recharge?"

Optimus finally let the bite go and lifted his head, optics barely open and exhausted. "Yes."

Megatron craned his neck to look back, and sighed. "Fine. Roll over."

A few moments later he'd mech handled Optimus to be on his side facing away, and had wrapped him up from behind. Optimus for his part just purred, pressing into Megatron's warmth and grip before relaxing. Megatron felt their sparks spinning close together, and let his optics close.

Everyone was staring at them.

In fact this break room they were in was mostly silent. A few low conversations were ongoing. Knock Out had asked Ratchet about them and Ratchet was telling him what were probably incredibly embarrassing stories about Megatron and Optimus as new Protector and Prime.

Megatron doesn’t care. Pits, he's half awake, tac computers off, situational awareness patchy. He's sitting across from Optimus, leaning on the table. Optimus is doing the same, slowly working his way through yet another cube of medical grade energon that Ratchet had put in front of him before also putting one in front of Megatron. Megatron had opened his mouth and gotten a very condescending servo to the lips to hush him.

"I don't need to do a deep scan to know you're skimming the edge of malnutrition. Drink it."

He'd sent Knock Out a look (traitor) then resigned himself to drinking his stupid sparkly highly filtered additive laden meal.

Now here they are, the opposite of combat aware, neither speaking. Letting this little sleepy bubble of safety and silence envelop them, their blurred EMF settled around them. It's not exactly an echo of the past. Even before their joint ascendency mornings had felt rushed, Orion running out the door to work and Megatron off to incite revolution. And once they ascended, the Council had refused to let them live together. They were in separate buildings, driving a wedge between them as their joint sparks howled at the distance. That hadn't stopped them, their lives becoming a blur of sneaking around, friends covering for them, renting rooms and making out in alleyways.

How they were supposed to spin like gears together when the council seemed set on the gear teeth not meshing was a mystery to them both and they had both raged about it.

The point was, the Prime and Protector had never had lazy mornings. They had been sneaking out and running to make meetings, or whatever was the urgent matter of that cycle. This was new, and softer than their lives had ever been, and Megatron was actively saving the feeling into deep memory.

And everyone was staring because they'd never seen their command completely stood down, and now here they were. 

Eventually they'd have to finish their meal, get up and start the day. But now, for the first time in an impossibly long time, there was no war, and they were both at peace in the moment, harmonized.

Reality eventually intruded and they ended up on the bridge with all of their command. Shockwave turned up too, looking better if shell shocked, and took a seat at the table. No one argued.

Prowl did argue when Megatron walked up, looked down at him, and nodded to the side. "This is my seat."

"Protector at right hand of Prime. I'm done with protocol separating us. Fight for the seat on his left."

Prowl sputtered, and looked at Optimus. "Surely..."

"No. I agree. New command. New rules. And all of the council's guidance for us before is to be ignored. We are cutting our own way because their way failed us. And we were complicit in the failure." Optimus sat back. "In fact everyone, musical chairs. Find a new place to sit."

Everyone stared at him, then got up and moved, the two factions blending as Megatron took his new seat. "Musical chairs?"

"It's a game human children play. And sometimes adults."

"Why do you know that?"

"I have human friends and access to the internet."

Megatron just looked at him. Optimus looked back and raised a brow. Megatron gave up and looked at everyone.  "Grievances first. Get them out so we can all move on."

Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp all agreed to space bridge to Cybertron in two days. Megatron had more recent survey maps from previous expeditions, and Optimus got very meditative looking at them before suggesting a few areas of focus. The trine didn't protest, just mapped flight paths with a clear extraction point and time.

Megatron for his part pulled his last three cubes of wargrade from his stash and handed them over as a personal contribution to the cause. Starscream clearly bit back something snide before managing to thank him, his EMF still flaring in uneasy spikes at random.

He and Optimus went on a drive to talk, ending up enough distance from the Ark they might have relative privacy, besides Laserbeak. Laserbeak swooped down and landed on Megatron's shoulder without comment.

"His presence will probably calm your SIC. And we may need Soundwave's help for this idea you suggested. Now why are we doing this here instead of discussing it with everyone?"

Optimus considered Laserbeak then shrugged. "After this talk I don't even want you to discuss it with me. Firewall the plan from me. I'll be deliberately clearing this conversation as well."

Megatron's brows shot up. "I'm listening."

"Primus can access me like a memory bank. I do not want him to read my memory, see the plan and act to block it, or simply override us, or." He waved a hand, pacing. "This must be done. For the safety of our people we need to change the circumstances, the variables. We cannot kill him, we cannot even hurt him. But I think we can still make our point."

"Without him just killing us and starting anew?"

"If we do this, he won't be able to. If he can download to us we can upload to him. Data flows both ways. And I want to upload a governance program."

"You want something to watch the watcher."

"I want something to hold the watcher accountable."

Megatron drew in air, ex-vented it hard. "That is a delicate balance to strike. If we demand he step in for strife, he may step in at other times. Unless it is worded perfectly we will give our free will away more than we already have."

"And that's why I'm going to reform the church."

"... go on?"

He paused and shot Megatron a look. "You're looking for Orion again."

"I'm seeing Orion again. Go on."

"We build it into the program that a petition triggers the response. That an individual elected by the people may step up and call for guidance or intercession, with no due authority given by the government."

"Trying to prevent future corruption."

"No more councils that can supersede the public. The public alone will hold this lynch pin."

"And you build it into a reformed church so the information is widespread." He pressed his hands together, thoughtful. "We will need to decide on a new form of government someday."

"That can wait until we don't all fit on a single wrecked ship." Optimus sighed. "Are you in?"

"I'm in. I'll need a copy of your divine code and Soundwave will be vital to writing this. He will need to see our codes."

"So be it. There's a few others you might loop in. I'll record a message to give them, give me a moment. Once I clear this memory I won't be able to."

Megatron waited obligingly and continued after. "Primus could notice the gap."

"Maybe. Which is why we're going to write that gap over."

Megatron paused, processing the sly tone in Optimus' voice, the layering of interest in his glyphs and field. "Laserbeak. That is your cue to leave. Thank you for your time. We no longer require it." Laserbeak peered at him, but took off from his shoulder, flying back towards the Ark. "Write it over, hm."

Optimus stepped in close, sliding an arm around Megatron's waist. "My spark yearns for its other half and I yearn to interface you until we fragging glitch from it. And if you grab a bit of extra data from me over our connections while my memory is only recording pleasure, well."

He laughed, unable to help it, lifting a hand to cup Optimus' face, thumb gently tracing the scar up his chin to his lips. "I almost opened my chest plates on the playa. One last question. If you're putting this conversation from your memory, how will you know what to do when it's time?"

"I guess I'll just have to trust you." He smirked, optics slits of sapphire blue, desire-dark, other hand sliding slowly up Megatron's side, tracing the seam of his thoracic port cover.

He tugged Optimus in for a kiss, hand landing on his aft and tugging him in tight even as his chest plates released. It's almost automatic, this rushed hungry embrace, then their sparks met and melted together. Binary stars fusing, a light storm of pleasure that shut down his upper processing, the world dissolving into yes, other half, complete .

Plugs met ports, at some point, and Megatron had just enough bandwidth available to reach and grab the data that Optimus had waiting on a platter for him, storing it all deep and fire walling it. He felt amusement flitter through Optimus, then watched the memory dump and clear happen, their conversation surgically, forcibly removed and that gap get the white-hot pleasure of their feedback and spark merge poured into it.

He'll admire the resolve later. For now, he's sprawled on the ground propped on his elbows, Optimus ranging over him, cables tangled and stretched between them in an erotic web, and Optimus' entire being is shouting yes more now , and like any time previous, he's helpless not to succumb.

Orion Pax had always been bold. Once past the initial jolt of nerves from the size difference (Megatron had been massive in comparison, and he still had bulk and height on Optimus now), he'd had zero problems being assertive and clear about his dreams and desires.

It had always been intense. Time had not dulled that intensity at all, if anything it felt sharper. Or maybe they were just desperate, sparks and divine programming and whatever is left of who they were reaching for connection that once felt natural and easy.

Optimus felt like he was trying to crawl inside Megatron and never leave, and damn it to the pits, Megatron was willing to let it happen, anything to sustain this, the power crackling on their cables and the surprisingly patient push and roll of Optimus' hips that drove them both into an overload that felt like the world ending.

The sun was setting when Megatron decided to start caring and have situational awareness again. They were still alone, him on his back and Optimus laying on top of him, arms folded and helm resting over Megatron's spark chamber, one servo idly drawing an infinity symbol there, over and over.

"Everyone is already drawing conclusions about why we disappeared." Megatron grumbled, squeezing Optimus with the arm he had draped around him.

Optimus' EMF got smug. "Mhm."

"Inevitable I suppose."

"Some remember us from before the war and those stories are spreading. Though I'm not sure younger mechs believe it." He chuckled. "Thank you, for this. I missed you. I missed this."

"Trust that you were not the only one who felt like vital parts were missing."

Optimus smiled, wry and sad. "Love you too, you stubborn fragger."

"Enough. I'm here. Until my spark fades or the end of time. Whichever comes first."

Optimus leaned up and kissed him, and Megatron melted into it, optics closing.

"Have you written me off, then?"

Megatron looked up from the datapad he was looking at and blinked at Shockwave. He's not used to the change. "What do you mean?"

"Please." He scoffed, walking in and sitting, kicking back and looking across the table at Megatron. "I understand that everyone is figuring out how to deal with me since the change. I thought Optimus was going to offline me. It was the obvious conclusion. I don't know how he did this. It's impossible and it's keeping me up at night. But for its impossibility it was a good choice. He instantly changed my appearance and that allowed the Autobots to accept me. But they don't know what to do with me." He arched a brow, which was processor bending to watch. Shockwave with facial expressions. "You, though. You know me."

Megatron lifted a brow back. "Do I?"

He snorted. "I know we didn't exactly socialize before my .... let's say punishment. But if you know anything about me, you know I enjoy making an impact and securing the future of Cybertronians." He leaned an arm on the table and leaned forward, smiling a bit. "Let me be involved in your machinations before I go insane."

"Interesting. And what do you think I'm up to?"

"I have no idea. I was talking to Optimus about his ideas on social and government reform and he looked at me and said that in the short term, I might find your tasks more interesting. But he couldn't clarify what those tasks were." Shockwave tipped his head. "He seemed confused about it all actually. Like he'd triggered something preset and didn't quite know why he said it."

"Oh, Optimus. If you're as clever as you think you are, we may even survive this." He tutted. "I have a meeting later. Soundwave, Brainstorm, and Hashtag. Bit of a secret mission. You want in?"

"I'm in. When and where?"

"Consider this my authorization for the mission that Megatron is about to lay out to you. For the integrity of this mission, I cannot know about it. Ask me no questions, tell me nothing. Megatron has my authority to act as necessary." The recorded hologram of Optimus told the small gathering in the conference room. "Only bring in as many mechs as necessary. I have confidence in Megatron's choices. We are striking at Primus. And to succeed at that, I will be clearing my memory of everything related to this mission.  Good luck."

The hologram cut, and Megatron looked at everyone. "You're in or you're out, right now."

"I'm in." Shockwave didn't hesitate.

"He cleared his own memory?" Brainstorm had wide optics.

"I can confirm he did. I was hard lined to him when he did it."

"Too much information. I'm in."

"Soundwave, is in."

"I'm in, now what the frag are we doing exactly?" Hashtag leaned on the table, hands laced. "Secret mission from the Prime led by the Protector, I'm in on intrigue alone."

"We want you to write a program to govern Primus." 

They looked at each other, all equally stunned, though Shockwave quickly switched to interest. "Govern Primus. You want to put checks and balances on our god." He drawled it. "I can see why Optimus wanted me involved. You need a procedure, an airtight if-then list Primus cannot escape or use against us."

"On a more practical note, for that to work we need to know what we're even coding in. Success will be higher if we can exactly match the programming of Primus." Brainstorm rattled his servos on the table.

"That's easy. Both Optimus and I carry divine programming installed by Primus himself. I have a copy of Prime's, and mine, on these." He held up data pads and passed them out. "Share these with no one. They're synched to each other for the purposes of collaboration."

"Megatron and Prime, giving access to programming?" Soundwave picked the data pad up.

"Yes. And yes we know the risk. It will be more than worth the reward if we succeed. Optimus wants to program in the ability to petition Primus. The ability for an individual chosen by the public to gain the attention of Primus and speak for all. Primus has been ignoring Optimus for millions of years as we died out. He wants failsafes. I agree. But it will be very tricky to word. We cannot allow it to be something Primus can use to hurt us."

"We need to start with what we want then we can implement the how. You are issuing laws. Rules. They must be concise, clear, with zero room for misinterpretation." Shockwave pulled a stylus out and shifted the datapad to a blank screen. "Let's make a list, then cut it in half."

The shouting echoed the halls of the Ark and the only thing that surprised Megatron about it is that it took this long.

He'd seen Starscream's trine off only hours ago, watching them depart via space bridge. They'd be away thirty hours, which Starscream said was more than enough for a triangulated survey of the surface, even taking detailed analysis of a few locations. And now, shouting.

He strode the corridors and mechs dove out of his way, no one trying to stop him as he stepped into the room. It was a break room and he didn't bother taking inventory of who was fighting. He just stepped in and sent them all flying like bowling pins.

Leaving him standing centered in the room, surrounded by mechs picking themselves up, and Knock Out standing with a cube of energon next to the dispenser.

"I had nothing to do with this." Knock Out said into the groan-filled silence.

"Out. Go to medical, I'm certain I shall be sending you patients."

Knock Out stepped over someone and fled, taking his energon with him.

"I understand this has likely been slowly boiling over for some time. We were at war for thousands upon thousands of vorn and now we are in very cramped quarters. Disagreement and unease was the least we could expect." Megatron told the mechs getting off the floor. "I will not tolerate infighting. So, please do explain yourselves."

He's almost not surprised by Jazz, who was wiping energon from his mouth. Megatron had missed the first blows it seemed. "Just some disagreements about past events."

"If we continue fighting about past events we will be here until the heat death of the universe. Anyone fighting moving forward will be forced to spar with Prime and I, since you're so eager to practice your skills."

That had the impact he desired, by the way all of them cringed. Except Jazz, who tipped his head. "You think Prime will agree to that?"

"I do, actually." Optimus was standing in the doorway, looking at all of them. "Thank you for breaking up the fight, Megatron. Jazz, a word?"

Now Jazz cringed, but walked to Optimus and followed him. Megatron walked to the dispenser and filled a cube for the pleasure and novelty of it. Optimus had made true on his word. Everyone was fed, there was no rationing.

"Why didn't you lighten your armor?"

He glanced sideways and regarded Sunstreaker, who had been in the fight but seemed over it already. "What do you mean?"

"Optimus had Ratchet help him strip to factory spec. All armor off except for light armor in his kibble." Sunstreaker cycled his optics, arms folded.

"He's a Prime, he was never supposed to be heavily armored." Megatron took a long drink. "That's my job. And it's why he has a shield. It's not only a symbol of his office."

The speedster blinked, staring at him. "What if he has to fight?"

"That's my job." He repeated, gesturing up and down at himself. "A Prime's concerns are spiritual. My concerns are more real. I was in charge of the military. Prime was there during invasions and yes, joined the front a few times with me. But it's not the platonic ideal."

"Not to ask the obvious but why would he need a shield then. What's he protecting himself from?"

That made Megatron pause. "What indeed. You're wise beyond your years." He drained the last of the energon and set the cube with a stack waiting for washing, and walked out.

"Interesting question." Shockwave was intensely thoughtful. "But why ask me and not Optimus?"

"You were part of the reason he became a Prime in the first place. So that suggests that you might have an outside perspective that neither of us ever had."

"The humans have a saying. The Devil is in the details."

Megatron paused. "What or who is the Devil?"

"A human religious figure. They have a lot of them, it's not worth getting into, ironically." Shockwave stared out over the horizon. Megatron had found him outside, in the mountains that towered over the Ark. He'd been forced to fly there because driving would have taken an hour or more. "It's a concept. That if you dig deep enough you'll find something you do not want."

Megatron grunted. "It was Iacon and I was a slave. Tell me something I am not intimately familiar with."

"Well, sadly I don't have an answer. Theories. There were a few old legends that claimed to explain it but they all contradicted each other. Which happens all the time with the old stories." Shockwave looked at him. "So it's practical or horrific.  One or the other."

"Practical. Like me fighting while he protects my back, or moves civilians to safety. Synched offense and defense."

"But why not give you both swords and shields then hm? You're meant to be equally weighted."

"Yes, but also, have different focuses. I think. The Council was so set on keeping us separate that it was hard to find the nuance. The deeper aspects."

"Yes. They were scared of you. Not you, but the both of you, as one."

Megatron lifted a brow.

"A completely synched Prime and Protector bent on revolution would have been their undoing." Shockwave smiled and it was not pleasant. "Still was in spite of them trying to drive a wedge between you. And you know what happened to me."

"You chose him because you thought he was a radical."

"No. Because I knew you were."

That made emotion flood Megatron, anger and confusion and not a small bit of dismay. His hands curled into fists, and he felt Optimus go on alert and start paying attention to him. "Tell me I am misunderstanding what you just said."

"No. Come now." Shockwave paced a lazy circle around him, hands behind his back. "I did the math. I knew that the council needed a shake up if we were to survive. I knew Pax because I met him doing research. Clever little slip of a data clerk with curiously counter culture ideals and a taste for poetry by the voice from the pits. I dug deeper, and found you. His revolutionary conjunx." Shockwave stopped. "I knew what Pax was worth. Pax and you? Worth exponentially more. Obviously my initial calculations did not account for a schism and millions of years of war."

Megatron looked at him for a long moment before ex-venting, his hands falling out of the tight fists they were in. "Well, that doesn’t change anything and doesn't answer the question at hand."

"There was art, in the depths of Iacon. In the long abandoned tunnels. A Prime holding up their shield against a looming star to protect someone. The art was damaged, the details lost."

Megatron paused. "That was not a star. That is useful information. Thank you."

"Leave me, I came out here for solitude."

"You may be insane."

Shockwave stared at him then started laughing, low before building to a crest, the sound of it drenching Megatron's energon lines with ice. "I know I am. Now go."

Optimus was waiting for Megatron outside the Ark as he flew in. He circled once before pulling up and transforming, landing heavily on his feet and walking up.

"How well did you know Senator Shockwave?" Megatron asked after a moment.

"A good friend. A brother." Optimus tipped his head.

"He's not well."

"No. Who would be, in his situation. But his not being well does not mean his words and opinions are without value, or merit. He was, and still is, very good at what he does. And even if he wasn't, he deserves support."

Megatron considered him. Optimus looked back, optics just slightly shuttered. Megatron nodded once. "We need to be careful with him."

"Yes. I have no intentions of letting him spiral. He is ... reprocessing everything he has done, but with emotional circuitry. He is neither of his past selves and no easy combination of them. His path forward is not a simple thing. But I am glad, regardless, to have him at my side as we move forward."

"He thought you were going to kill him."

"So did you."

"I was uncertain and Primus blocked our connection, making it harder to ascertain your motives."

"You know me."

"I did. I do." He conceded. "But we were separated for a long time and as you have so pointed out, we have both changed. And in the moment I was uncertain of the situation. Not of your intentions, but of Primus."

"Hm. I will give you that." Optimus smiled a little. "To be honest, once I might have claimed to understand Primus, or the small portion of him I saw. Not anymore."

Megatron lifted a hand and cupped Optimus' face, thumb stroking down the chin scar. Optimus purred, fans clicking on low speed as he pressed a kiss to Megatron's palm.

"Ratchet did a good job. I thought this would be far worse."

"It was. It's only recently that the scar on my cheek faded. The initial injury went halfway to my audial on this side." He turned his head, tracing Megatron's thumb in a line over his cheek. "My teeth were visible for a time. Repairing it took priority over the cosmetic scar I'm left with."

Megatron shuddered, just barely. "Did Shockwave apologize?"

"He told me he can not and will not apologize for any actions while he was Empurata. I agreed."

"You are still far too kind." Optimus hummed, looking at Megatron with mostly shut optics, then deliberately bit his hand, making Megatron sputter and try to pull away. "Why are you always biting me?! You have always done this, it was like living with an oversized scraplet."

"Humans call it cuteness aggression."

That made him pause. "Humans let cute things bite them?

"No. They have an urge to bite cute things."

Megatron stared at him, and ex-vented hard when Optimus bit him again. "Whatever is wrong with humans is also what is wrong with you."

Optimus let go and laughed, long and loud. "Come inside."

"I fully intend to tonight."

"Ooooh, do you? Big talk." But Optimus was grinning as he led the way into the Ark.

Megatron was never expecting to be liked by most of the Autobots. If anything that seemed like an impossibility. Yes, some of the hatred was already fading, with the reason of war gone. Some of the groups had blended. But many weren't ready to let go, and may never, and no one begrudged any mech of anything as long as it didn’t come to blows.

Megatron, Soundwave, Shockwave, and Starscream. And, perhaps, Knock Out. All had notorious reputations with the Autobots. Knock Out, never really a Decepticon and even less so since losing Break Down, assimilated almost immediately. Optimus doing whatever it was to change Shockwave had caused any hostility from the Autobots to change to confusion. Leaving Megatron, Soundwave and Starscream.

Starscream had immediately reconnected with Skyfire, and Skyfire's size had more or less ensured safety for Starscream's trine. As grating as Starscream could be, he seemed to be slowly calming with the company of his old friend.

Soundwave was nothing but a consummate professional, helping with the program for their secret mission and on the bridge for his new shifts without a single comment. It seemed to render the Autobots into a state of begrudging respect and almost admiration. Megatron had been sure to com him praise, as saying it out loud would have likely made Soundwave uncomfortable. The private praise pleased his most loyal soldier well enough.

Leaving himself.

His size means that most Autobots know not to step up to him. Plenty have tried and bear the scars. Not that they would anymore. His Lord High Protector EMF still sprawls around him, warm and full of restrained violence and darker things. He is not the Prime's bright positivity and light, he is a bated promise, the moment before motion, silent almost sensual intent.

And a lot of mechs, whether old enough to remember him from before or young enough that his EMF is new to them, bend in supplication. A few, in respect. He and Ratchet in particular have reached some kind of bizarre accord.

Prowl fucking hates Megatron.

It says something that Megatron uses a human swear. An organic word with all the weird chemistry implied, that when rolled unto Cybertronian was distinctly different from their other vulgarity. He could use fragging but it didn't communicate the dirty almost corrosive feeling of Prowl's EMF before it would skitter away from Megatron, gone in a blink to present nothing but stiff professionalism.

Megatron is perfectly willing to ignore it, but he's also starting to figure it out. Because a layer of his... relationship with all the Autobots is them having to accept that yeah, he's Optimus' conjunx. His mate. His shared spark. And all the implications there.

So, Megatron is relatively certain that Prowl hates Megatron on a deeply personal level because Prowl's feelings for Optimus are not professional and staring across a room at Megatron as repair nanites flickered along his neck, faint biolight as they worked to repair Optimus biting tiny fang punctures into his Primus be damned cables again was eating Prowl alive.

Megatron isn't mad about it. He knows on some level the tension between himself and Soundwave is a bit beyond command and favored right hand. And he's also aware that whatever is between Optimus and Shockwave is similar, he can feel it and isn't bothered. Megatron is inevitable, immovable, just like Optimus is. The others can orbit.

But, as he's checking things and getting ready for his seekers to return, he can feel Prowl like sandpaper.

"If I let you punch me will it tone down your intensity?"

It's almost satisfying when Prowl jumped at the abrupt statement in the silent bridge, wheeling to look at him, clearly playing back what Megatron said before narrowing his optics. "What are you talking about?"

"You are not nearly as good at EMF as you like to think." He shifted, sprawling in the chair he was using and propping his jaw on one hand, watching Optimus' SIC seethe. "Gracious. Temper, temper. I didn’t say you were bad. I'm just better because I have a programming advantage you can't beat by design."

Prowl stared at him, hands curling into fists and optics still slits, emotion vibrating around him in a tempest as he stopped doing the war protocols of keeping his EMF tight to him. "You would let me hit you." His voice was flat.

"If it will make you even slightly less annoying to be around."

"You let Starscream get a shot in?"

"Not yet. And he'd stab me."

"Who says I won't?"

"Because you care more about staying in Optimus' good graces than you care about hurting me. Starscream doesn't have that concern."

"I don't understand your dynamic."

"I think the humans would say it's 'fucking toxic.'"

Prowl blinked several times, so knocked off center the anger momentarily bled from his field. "I've never heard that word translated to Cybertronian. That is.. a shocking but effective stack of glyphs."

"I'm a poet. Now." He stood, stretching and rolling his neck. "We are going to go spar and I'm going to let you try to hurt me."

"Your arrogance is so vile."

"There are very few on this ship that can step to me. You could get a lucky shot in, especially if you had someone tag teaming with you. Jazz or Mirage perhaps. Subterfuge experts who could distract me while you take the shot."

Prowl lifted an eyebrow. "So you consider me a threat, but not alone."

"I am a war frame." He stepped forward and leaned into Prowl's space, staring at him. "I assure you I have dedicated an excess of time to tactical calculations and threat assessment. Now, do you want a free shot or not? I will not offer again."

"Yes." Prowl didn't hesitate.

"Very good. Let's go then."

Word traveled fast around the Ark. By the time they're both outside, have agreed to the boundaries of the 'ring' and what constitutes surrender, several dozen mechs are outside and have found seating, some lifting smaller mechs to their shoulders or using alt forms.

Megatron is a lot of things, but many forget that at one point he was a showman. He'd never had a willing choice about the pits and being a gladiator. He never glamorized his time as a slave. But he also had been good at it, not only for his undefeated record, but for his ability to perform. Yes it had many practical aspects but additionally, he enjoyed it.

So he's not shy as he stretches then shifts his weight, heels lifting to put his considerable weight on the front half of his 'pedes. Optimus had joined the crowd and he reached up and released his cape, tossing it to Optimus with a grin then lifting his hands, beckoning to Prowl. "Your move."

"What happened to you letting me hit you?" Prowl quirked a brow, hands already up.

"Did I say that I would make it easy for you?" He smirked, and was rewarded with Prowl scoffing and charging him.

To his credit he does let Prowl get a hit in, a solid shot right to Megatron's chest plates that sends a cascade of alerts though his systems and turns all his tac computers on, going fully into combat awareness for the first time in what felt like weeks. He blocked the next hit, optics narrowed in calculation as they both moved.

Sparring was harder. It's one thing to just grab an opponent and take them apart. Megatron is kind of known for tearing his enemies in half. Not being able to injure Prowl (oh he can hurt the smaller mech but not injure him in any way that matters) meant he's moving with his considerable strength banked, having to be surgical.

But if he loved nothing else about being a gladiator it was giving himself challenges.

So he watched Prowl move, fell into the dance of block and counter and had no shame in sending the smaller mech flying by using his speed against him. Prowl is SIC for a lot of reasons, and one of those is that he's clever. Megatron can sense the flurry of com messages even as they fought, and he's not dumb enough to think it's nothing.

Still, he's surprised at the ripple in his EMF, not the presence of something so much as a void, and spun and dropped, one elbow to the ground the other arm and hand up, grabbing on the empty air where his head had been. Mirage squawked and appeared in his grip to the surprised shouts (and a few cheers) of their audience as Mirage, a lightweight small mech, fought the grip around his torso before twisting and transforming, using an axle to try to force Megatron's grip apart.

He scoffed and just threw Mirage at Prowl, who half caught the Porsche while stumbling, dropping a changing Mirage as Megatron rolled to his 'pedes and squared back up. "Taking my advice?"

"It was a good idea and you didn't say I couldn't." Prowl was unrepentant.

"Good catch, how did you know I was there?" Mirage had sorted himself and was squared up next to Prowl, coms between them a dense flurry of data Megatron couldn't begin to parse.

"Silence is as noticeable as noise. Transforming in my hand was a huge risk."

"Well pshyeah i can't do that in real combat but you can't crush me right now, so." Mirage rolled his neck, bouncing a bit.

"Taking advantage of my limitations? Then don't be surprised if I try to leverage your nobility programming." He took a step back as tac calculations ran. "Will player three just step into the ring and save us all the suspense?"

He half expected Prowl to take him fully up on his suggestion and pull Jazz. Instead, he's almost pleased when Ironhide stepped from the audience into the ring. The crowd whistled and clicked, and bets were obviously being made. Optimus, who had taken a seat at the front, leaned back on his hands with Megatron's cape draped around him like a conquest, only lifted a brow.

"Now we have a match." Megatron grinned. "Thank you for making this interesting."

"Decided to drop by the Ark and see what's happening. Glad I did now." Ironhide squared up. "Three on one and you're still feeling confident-"

Megatron charged. Mirage transformed and tires barked on the dirt, using his alt mode to dodge the incoming Cybertronian tank of mass and momentum. Prowl dove out of the way as Ironhide pivoted and blocked, bracing for the blow then compensating as Megatron came in low, sliding on the dirt.

He knocked Ironhide's legs out from under him, who managed to turn the momentum into a backwards summersault and a transformation. Megatron was back on his feet and setting his heels, catching Ironhide by the grill and holding him as tires spun for traction, first trying to push forward then abruptly backwards, trying to yank Megatron off balance.  Megatron let go and transformed in the same motion, sweeping his turret and sending Prowl flying. Mirage landed on top of him, both hands trying to yank his turret upwards, he spun and changed again.

Its pure luck that he grabs Mirage by the scruff and he grinned as he put Mirage face first into the dirt, thumb rolling on the back of his neck then to between his shoulder blades. Mirage swore a storm then froze up, swallowing hard, eyes wide.

"You're out." Megatron grabbed him again and tossed him at Optimus before advancing on Prowl in the same motion. "You had nobility in combat with tower protocols still active!"

"What did you do to him?" Prowl snapped back, the hate filling his EMF again.

"I shut off his tac computer and took him out of combat protocols. Basically flipped him from fight to interface. I'm sure he is very upset with me but he's fine." He blocked a flurry of blows before both of them were broad sided. Prowl seemed to be expecting it, Megatron had not and was successfully taken to the ground. Ironhide was on him in the next instant and Megatron threw him before surging up in a kippup and something went click in his programming.

The transformation swept him, his armor changing spark out, time rewinding. Any mech who had lived as long as he and Optimus had changed and adapted over the years, alt modes and kibble adjusting, base modes compensating. This was a configuration he remembered, though he'd long thought it unreachable. Too many years, too much change, too much associated trauma. But the wrongness he'd been ignoring since Primus intervened alleviated in the seconds the base mode transformation took, and all were left staring at him in gladiator armor, exhaling heat as his fans roared. Forged again, in the heat of a useless play fight.

He is so weary of Primus' slag, even if the shock of heat and arousal and possessiveness approaching violence pouring through his connection to Optimus almost made him laugh. It seemed he wasn't the only one looking for the past.

"Well. This is a bit of a callback isn't it." He rolled a shoulder, staring at Prowl and Ironhide, who looked like they were redoing combat calculations and hating the odds. Someone in the growing audience (it was possible everyone on the Ark was watching now) was playing human music, and somehow it didn't feel inappropriate. "Shall we continue?" Prowl and Ironhide lunged in different directions, and he focused on Prowl, pulling his sword damn the rules and swinging it, not to hit but to block his path. "No. Do not run from this."

Prowl skidded to a halt, staring down at the flat of the blade hovering just in front of his chest, then turned to face Megatron. "What-"

"No more games. This is a letting. Give me your rage. Give me your hate. Lance thousands of vorn and let it pour upon me. I can take it and more."

Prowl stared up at him, then his optics narrowed, mouth curling in a snarl. Megatron barely had time to transform the sword away and get his arms up to block before Prowl attacked. No more sparring no more clever tactics to best him, it was nothing but blind fury, a full frontal assault hammering into Megatron. Prowl wasn't holding back anymore. No weapons came out but it was clear that he was going to kill Megatron bare handed or possibly self destruct trying.

And Megatron let him try. Not returning blows, just in a flow of block and counter, letting the rage and hate and sorrow and pain flow around him like a hurricane. He's a rock in rapids, unmoving and impassive, even as his systems start reporting damage, even as the heavy armor on his forearms actually buckles under the assault, even as his own energon starts running down his frame. Soundwave is pinging him demanding to step in, Optimus is on his feet pushing on their connection, he denies them both because he can feel it all coming to a climax.

Prowl blew hydraulic lines, one arm failing catastrophically, his increasingly hoarse-voiced litany of Megatron's sins cutting off with a sharp cry as he fell to his knees and curled forward, holding his damaged arm and trailing unto hiccuping sobs. The crowd was silent in shock, and he can see Ratchet out of the corner of one eye, being held back with one raised hand by Optimus.

Megatron dropped to one knee, dismissing all the damage alerts his systems are flooding him with, reaching forward and grabbing Prowl's jaw. "You are a warrior to your struts. In another time you would have never worn the heraldry of a Prime. You would have been one of my generals, praised command protecting Cybertron. But that is not what happened. We cannot change it. We can only live to see this to the end. And maybe train a new generation to do better. Can you accept that? Can you trust me as war command with clear optics now?"

Prowl, staring back with exhaustion and pain, nodded, sagging into Megatron's hand. "Yes."

"Very well. Medic? You have a patient."

"Two patients." Optimus replied as Ratchet moved forward, Knock Out right behind. "Everyone else, clear out. Show's over."

Mirage walked into medical, slapped Megatron with all his strength, and walked back out, swearing and shaking his hand out as he did.

"You deserved that." Knock Out said, paused in his work in pulling plating straight so the jagged bent edges would stop cutting into energon lines.

"I absolutely did." Megatron agreed wryly. "Though if I wasn't conjunxed I may be in for an interesting evening."

"You are, and you are." Optimus was leaning on the wall with his arms folded, somewhere between amused, admiring and irritated.

"Go greet my seekers since I cannot."

"Fine." Optimus pushed off the wall, stepping over and dropping Megatron's cape on the medical table next to him before pressing a kiss to his helm. "Good work." It's soft, caressing his audial, then Optimus is gone.

"So did you often let subcommand kick your aft as a vent path?" Knock Out grunted as he finally got an armor plate bent back into shape and it settled.

"Never. But it is what he needed."

He scoffed. "If you were giving subcommand what they needed you'd be railing Soundwave nightly and twice on holy days. And don't give me slag about being conjunxed I know you didn't go millions of years without getting any."

"It's not that simple."

"What's complex about it? He'd adore every moment and he deserves it."

"Besides or in addition to the very possessive Prime who uses me as a chew toy at the slightest provocation?"

"Yes thank you for giving him something to do, the roar of his fans was ridiculous. Why didn't you before?"

"Do not underestimate how jealous Optimus can get. If I had taken Soundwave and Optimus caught that during the war, it is possible he would have targeted Soundwave."

"That data clerk wrapped in divine light gets jealous?" Knock Out lifted his brows. "Don't get me wrong, I know exactly how much destruction that big rig can do. But jealous?"

"Heh. Well, once upon a time, he did. You would have loved Orion Pax I think. Besides, it hardly matters now. Soundwave knows how much I appreciate his work."

"Or hear me out you two could actually discuss your little collection of orbiters."

"Is there a reason you care so much about my private life?"

Knock Out paused in patching a leaking energon line. "I've been helping Ratchet with Shockwave a lot."

"... ah."

There was a long silence as Knock Out worked, then the door exploded open and Starscream was standing there, pointing at Megatron. "You let Prime's SIC do that to you before I got one free shot in?!"

Prowl, on the other side of the med bay with Ratchet, burst into laughter as Ratchet bellowed at Starscream to get out of his med bay. Megatron could only sigh, letting it all wash over him, as Knock Out looked at the damaged armor on his forearms, tutting.

Megatron was absorbed in the data from Starscream's expedition, walking the halls of the Ark automatically, letting subroutines make certain he didn't walk into anyone as he moved in the direction of Optimus. He was aware Optimus was outside and talking to someone but he hadn’t paid much mind to the particulars.

Sideswipe sent him an image of a middle aged human man wearing glasses and looking up from a newspaper. Megatron offered Sideswipe a rude gesture he'd picked up from humans and got laughter in response. Insolent brainless speedster.

He stepped out of the Ark and stopped, realizing that yes, he should have paid more attention or at least commed Optimus and asked because there was a cluster of human vehicles parked on the wide road leading up to the Ark's entrance. Optimus was seated on the ground, cape pooled around him, speaking to a group of humans, some of which had their own data pad devices. Or they had been because everyone was now staring at him, including Optimus looking over his shoulder with a curious expression.

Megatron felt the unease, all the weird little signatures of humans frittering at the edge of his EMF, because humans were understandably terrified of him. And Optimus' warm amusement curling through their bond. "Hmph. Bad timing. We can speak later."

"No. Join us." Optimus replied, all the humans whipping their heads around to stare up at him incredulously.

He switched to Cybertronian. "They don't like me. My presence will complicate whatever is happening here."

"Perhaps. But you should hear this part of the conversation. I would have had to discuss it with you later." Optimus replied in same, shrugging one shoulder.

Megatron stared at him, and shrugged, shoving the datapad into subspace and walking down the ramp. The humans were all tense and he ignored them, just taking a seat and settling next to Optimus, his cape moving about a bit before settling itself. "Very well."

"I haven't heard you speak your native tongue very often." One of the humans said. A man, in uniform.

"We're speaking mainly Cybertronian on board now that the war is over. It is a language of nuance not meant for times of conflict." Optimus replied.

"What happened to you?" This came from a different man, one not in uniform, staring up at Megatron.

He smiled just a bit. "Got in a fight."

"We were discussing base handover." Optimus gestured a bit. "The land we're on is land that belongs to the local government generously gifted for us to use. We're tried to minimize our impact but we cannot take the Ark with us if we space bridge to Cybertron. And civilians exploring could be a disaster."

"So we've been discussing human staff being on site in a rotation." The human in uniform said. "We'll need some training, mostly what to do if something goes wrong. We like contingencies."

"Assuming Cybertron is viable enough we do an exodus?" Megatron asked and all nodded. "We have a few stay behind. Easier to keep a consistent space bridge, and maintain the Ark."

"I can't ask that of anyone." Optimus stared at him.

"You don't have to. Where is Bumblebee? Where is Barricade? Ironhide has been gone more than here, same with Mirage.. They all have humans, Prime. They are recording as many memories as they can before we leave. Let them stay if they wish, with the understanding one always must be here." Megatron shrugged. "What is a human life? A vorn? By the time a vorn passes perhaps we can change the guard."

Everyone stared at him.

"Understand it makes very little difference to me. I don't intend to return here. But I understand the concerns, even if I'm certain you'll be scraping all the tech advances you can from the Ark the moment we're gone. This is simply logical." He almost smiled. "There is no use in forcing a mech to be somewhere they don't want to be. And Bumblebee, Barricade, Ironhide and Mirage want to be here for now so let's use that to mutual advantage in the short term."

"We will have to teach them how to use the space bridge and more about Ark maintenance." Optimus was thoughtful. "But this has merit. It would ease the transition."

"Can I ask you something?" The casually dressed man had climbed up to sit on Optimus' leg during the conversation, looking up at Megatron.

"If you must."

"What was your job before you became leader of the Decepticons?"

"I was a poet. Still am, one doesn't really stop such things. Just pauses between stanzas."

The humans all gaped at him before looking at Optimus.

"He was." Optimus was smiling. "It's how we met. I was still a data clerk and I went looking for the voice from the pits."

"Of course there is that career I had as the finest gladiator of Kaon." Megatron faked being thoughtful and watched a human sputter.

"He was that too."

"Alright as far as meet cutes go, you win some kind of award." The man shook his head.

"Do I need to also leave you here with your human?" Megatron wanted to know, and laughed when Optimus reached over and shoved him hard.

Optimus sprawled on top of him, purring and still drenched in happy spark glow, when Megatron scraped enough of his processors together to think clearly again. Only to realize that Optimus is specifically not putting weight on plates still recovering from the beating Prowl had given him, his whole body sagged to nearly dead weight, plates perfectly tucked in against Megatron and also neatly avoiding healing areas. It made a burst of rueful fondness fill him like a firework.

Megatron wasn't sure if the Devil was in the details, but the love he held for Optimus sure was.

"We were going to talk before you distracted me."

"Mhm." Optimus was smug. "So talk."

"We have a variety of orbiters and allowing them to continue as they are is probably unkind."

He lifted his head and blinked. "Orbiters."

"Prowl and Shockwave love you, Soundwave... has feelings for me beyond my being command. And us reuniting hasn't changed anything. Well. I suppose you created the situation with Shockwave by restoring him."

Optimus lifted an eyebrow. "You seem certain of this."

"You disagree?"

He sighed and put his head down. "No."

"I don't think this will go away on its own."

"Most likely not. I have been trying to find a way to discuss it. It is not as if I can hide anything from you."

"You can. We can hide things." He's got a partition blocked from Optimus now, for everything related to the secret mission he's working on.

"Well, yes. But a deep emotional connection? I'm not so certain. I was surprised you didn't ask about Shockwave before, when we were getting to know each other. I know I mentioned him."

Megatron shrugged one shoulder. "It was clear to me at the time that Shockwave was your good friend, and that it wasn’t politically possible for you to be more. I was surprised when you flirted with me for similar reasons. Then I realized you didn't care, so I thought he did. Missed connection I became very glad was missed."

Optimus snickered. "Would you believe he was one of very few friends that understood our relationship?"

"Yes, because I apparently weighed into his math regarding you getting the matrix."

He shrugged. "I'm not surprised."

"No?"

"I care for him but becoming his conjunx would not have changed that I was a variable in his endless equations. You just saw me as Orion."

He sighed, lifting a hand to cup Optimus' helm, stoking one finial gently. "He cannot help how he sees the world even now. How are we handling this then?"

"You really think they still want us? Because it is an us." He tipped his head into the touch, optics shuttering.

"I think if they're still here putting up with our drama that answer must be yes."

"Mm. Seems unfair to say anything when we don't know if we'll survive."

"If we let that prevent us, they will be waiting until the heat death of the universe. They know the risks. Perhaps we should let them make their own value assessment."

"Fine. But your aft is in this berth every night."

"Of course. Who else will let you chew on them at the slightest provocation?" He quirked a smile, then laughed when Optimus turned his head and bit Megatron's hand.

The program was coming together. Shockwave had put together a tight list of commands. It's such a small thing, really, barely a stanza itself but each word was weighed carefully. Soundwave, Hashtag and Brainstorm were all working on different aspects of the program itself, constantly checking each other's work. Megatron for his part just checked in and didn't loom.

He was on the command deck staring at the data from Starscream's trine and the two capped vials of energon that Starscream had sampled, labeled Iacon and ... Kaon.

"Fountains." Starscream had said, seeming uncomfortable. "Barely any flow, but fountains nonetheless, and not Cybertronian work. Formed naturally out of the surface."

Natural fountains, neat perfect squares, rainbow with bismuth details. Flowing slowly with energon. Iacon and Kaon. It wasn't subtle, it was a jackhammer.

Soundwave came in and paused, looking at Megatron. Megatron turned his chair to face him, canting his head, so Soundwave walked up, clearly intending to take the seat next to him. Instead, Megatron reached out and wrapped an arm around Soundwave's waist, gently tugging him to sit on his lap, perched on one of his thighs.

Soundwave made a shocked sound but moved with the tug, ending up stiffly perched on Megatron's leg, staring at him in clear shock. His visor flickered with colors and question marks, hands laced together on his lap.

"You can get up if this is unwanted, and I'll never make such an overture again." Megatron said quietly.

"Query, what are the parameters of the overture being made?"

"Optimus and I talked." He considered his wording, sprawled relaxed on the chair, one arm still resting on the table with a data pad, the other gently at Soundwave's back, supporting him. "The better question is, what do you need from me, and can I provide it? Because my spark tie to Optimus is forged so indelibly that millions of years of war and hate and self sabotage couldn't break that link. Yet, we both found ourselves in the position where we have tenuous connections to others. Millions of years is a long time. And you, Soundwave, have been my most loyal soldier for nothing but my inconsistent but honest praise, while I never asked why. I'm asking now. Why, and what can I do to repay you? I cannot be your conjunx but I can offer anything else in my power."

Soundwave stared, but some of the stiffness slowly eased from his posture. "Query, Prime is aware of this?"

"Yes. You're at no risk here. If anything he approves. He has his own emotional entanglements to settle and I think, perhaps, we're past jealousy. That said, my ability to block him is now limited. He will be aware of anything between us. Which I know is significant. It's a privacy violation if nothing else."

Soundwave clearly weighed this up for a long moment, during which he shifted, settling carefully against Megatron's warmth and bulk. Megatron let one hand settle on Soundwave's trim waist, thumb sweeping back and forth softly.  Soundwave made a soft noise in response, like the start of a purr that he manually stopped. Then he raised his hands, putting them to his visor before lifting it away in a flurry of latches opening.

Megatron was honestly shocked, optics wide as Soundwave set the visor on the table. His optics were shut, taking what seemed like a few steadying ventilations, which let Megatron stare at a face unfamiliar to him. Oddly smooth and youthful, free of scars. The visor had done its job well, as a piece of protective equipment. Honestly, Megatron had considered Soundwave attractive with the visor on. His competence, loyalty, grace and domination in combat were all strong points for a warrior. And that his cassettes were all superb in the field was only a given.

Megatron lifted his hand from the table, gently brushing the silver-white of Soundwave's cheek with one servo. "You honor me. I would never have asked for this. If you are most comfortable in a visor, then that is your right and I respect it."

"It has been a very long time since another has seen my face." Soundwave's voice was halting, without the digitized-static edge, and Megatron soaked in it like spark light. "However, this feels like a conversation to be had without barriers, even if they are comfortable."

"Regardless, never feel like you have to do this for me." He smiled when Soundwave leaned into his hand, rubbing his cheek into the touch.

"Soundwave, will likely leave visor on in the future. Wants to be able to see you."

Megatron went still, EMF pulling in a bit to wrap into Soundwave more deliberately. He didn't have time to ask because Soundwave's optics slowly opened, showing soft yellow that reminded Megatron of Earth's star before it hit him that the pupils were faded, all but invisible, and they're close enough he can see one has a visible crack through it. "Soundwave."

"Do not pity Soundwave. Not blind. Simply cannot see." Soundwave smiled a little, rueful, and shivered when Megatron's thumb gently stroked over his chin. "Visor restores lost aspects of vision. Medics, medical resources, in critical supply."

"Do you want Ratchet to examine you?"

"No. Soundwave wants no one else to know. Cassettes know. Megatron knows. Prime, if he must. No more."

"If that's what you want."

Soundwave moved to kneel straddling Megatron's lap, hands on his shoulders. Megatron shifted to more easily allow it then went still when one careful hand rested on his cheek before Soundwave rested their foreheads together. He's hyper aware they're on the bridge and anyone could walk in, but few come here unless they're on shift, and the rest of the usual suspects are currently off. So, they can probably have a few stolen moments of privacy here, and he let his optics shutter, both hands wrapping Soundwave's waist. "Soundwave has gotten used to setting aside wants."

"You don't have to." He can feel Optimus take notice through the bond, briefly, getting the impression of a smile before the laser-like attention moves away again. "If I can give it, it's yours."

Soundwave kissed him, slow and hesitant before melting into him. Megatron fully closed his optics and pushed up into it, one hand moving to stroke up and down Soundwave's spinal struts, finding arcs of sensors to follow and was rewarded with a rumbling purr. It felt like something he should have heard eons ago, but there's no clawing back the lost time, so he resolved to make the most of whatever time is left.

"It's done."

It's Megatron's turn to be outside the Ark. In this case he's sitting on top of it, legs hanging over, staring at the horizon as the sun set. Soundwave's devotion still lingered around him, invisible handprints left somehow around his spark chamber because his spark may belong indelibly to Optimus but the rest of him, well.

Shockwave's EMF was still strange and felt like a bucket of cold water, bringing him instantly back to the moment. He looked over his shoulder as Shockwave walked up slowly then sat next to him, one leg dangling the other heel propped on the edge, leaning on one arm.

"It's done?" Megatron repeated back.

"The secret project. It's done. And we need to speak about it briefly."

"Of course. Proceed."

"There are significant odds it will kill you both."

He looked at Shockwave for a long moment. Shockwave looked back, expression neutral. "Yes. We know. Optimus knew the second he breathed the start of this in a split circle. We knew when our sparks melted back together. We've known the entire time it's a zero sum plan with odds no fool would bet on. But we are going to attempt it, regardless."

"Mutually assured destruction."

"Yes. For the greater good, we hope. And if we do walk away, well. I suppose we will be pleasantly surprised."

Shockwave burst into surprised, rough laughter. Not the laughter that had previously filled Megatron with dread, but an honest laugh of delight. "Pleasantly surprised, indeed."

"How fares your ever-running calculations?"

"Too many unknowns. But, I have hope for the future of Cybertronians. It's rather refreshing." He arched his brow. "Optimus spoke to me, frankly. Said it was your idea. So thank you for that."

"Don't thank me. I'm uncertain if it will cause more or less pain in the end. But." He stared back at the horizon, the last few rays of light peeking over.

"The dreadful and freeing weight of being known?"

"Yes. If I am going to die, then I would rather die knowing that Soundwave knows the breadth of my sentiment. And I'm sure Optimus has similar sentiments about you, echoing across years of regret. For all our faults and poor choices, we may perish, but we will perish swinging a final blow for change. And we will perish loved." Megatron sat back, leaning on the palms of his hands and looking at Shockwave. His cape moved out of the way automatically, the edge lifting and settling. "It's enough."

"Are you controlling that?"

"No. It's independent of me. Semi-sapient, has its own base code."

"You know, there's no real data in the archives about the vestments. Just that they exist."

Megatron sighed, passing some of the heavy material though one hand. "It's bitey. Protective. Restless. A reminder of other times."

"Like Optimus."

He snorted. "Yes, like Optimus. What role are you casting yourself in, hm?"

Shockwave tipped his head. "A sculptor of the future."

"We will need those. Do try to remember mechs are living beings, not math variables, hm?"

"I'll do my best." He opened his wrist ports, offering them wordlessly.

Megatron sat up fully, plugged in, and took the file offered. It's such a small thing, limned in holy code, and he tucked it behind the firewall before unplugging. Shockwave nodded and stood, walking away, leaving him to stare out at an approaching event horizon.

"It's time."

Megatron blinked at Optimus. Their shared room was dark except for their own lights. Optimus was on his side, rolled to face Megatron, so he rolled too, reaching to lace one of his hands over one of Optimus'. Optimus' optics were flickering, blue and gold warring for dominance before blue won. "Time?"

"We need to go to Cybertron."

He quirked a brow in the dark. "What, now?"

Optimus huffed, releasing his hand to roll into him instead. "Soon. Next few days."

"He spoke to you." He shifted, wrapping Optimus up in his arms.

"He beckoned. You didn't feel it?"

"No."

"Good. Good. The longer he stays out of your systems the better our chances."

He paused, fingers lightly stroking between Optimus' shoulder blades. "You remember."

"Not in detail. I know we have a plan. I'm trusting you."

"We're trusting each other. And we're both trusting Shockwave." He dropped a kiss to Optimus' raised shoulder.

"Do you remember, after we conjunxed. When we'd share some cheap high grade and talk about the future." Optimus' face was hidden against Megatron's body, voice soft.

"Yes. Good memories." That narrow window of time when there had been nothing but promise for the future.

"Ratchet told me once that the opposite of love isn't hate. It's indifference. I could never reach either. I never stopped loving you. I never stopped hoping. Now I know we're close to ... I don't want to say the end..."

"Optimus." He lifted a hand, cupping the back of his helm.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

"Orion. Stop. No matter what happens, we are doing it together. Life or death. We already made things better. There is laughter on this ship. If we left it alone long enough there may even be sparklings." When Optimus said nothing, just shook against him, Megatron opened a com line and reached out to Ratchet.

It feels like no time at all that there's a knock at the door. Optimus twitched full body, EMF going on high alert, but Megatron just patted his back and got up, turning the lights on low before opening the door.

"Bad night?" For all he'd been woken up, Ratchet didn't look upset. Mostly concerned, even as he held up a full cube of high grade.

"Bad night. Thanks." Megatron took it.

"If it gets worse, call me, I'll come back with something stronger."

He almost recoiled, but nodded and shut the door, pausing before looking at Optimus, who was sitting up on the berth. "Does your medic often threaten to sedate you?"

"Yes. Though it's been a while. When I've been close to a crash because of my emotional state."

"And you're apologizing to me." He stepped over and sat on the bunk, leaned against the wall, setting the cube of high grade aside before reaching for Optimus. Some mech handling later and Optimus was sitting between his legs leaned back on his chest. That done he passed the cube before wrapping his arms around him. "You are going to drink some of that, and we are going to talk."

Optimus stared at the cube for a moment before taking several long swallows of it, handing it to Megatron before putting his face in his hands. "Someone on board is sparked."

Megatron almost choked as he took a drink. "What, really?"

"Ratchet didn't tell me whom. Just acted like it was a great indicator of crew health. That stress levels dropped so significantly that someone caught. And I tried to be happy but all I felt was hollow." He sagged, head tipping back to thunk against Megatron's chest, one hand resting on Megatron's arm. "Not long before I became Prime, we sat just like this, sharing a cube, and we were discussing sparkling names."

"Take that fraggin thing out of your chest."

There was a long pause then Optimus straightened up enough to open his chest plates, pulling the matrix with both hands and discarding it to the floor beside the berth. Without need for the space his chest plates transformed inwards, tightening to his frame and adjusting his kibble accordingly. He sat still for a moment, vents measured as emotion brightened though his EMF and lit up the connection between them. Old tired sorrow and regret, and fear, and hope.

"Is it hypocrisy to miss the future stolen from us when my actions arguably stole the future of everyone?" Optimus leaned on his knees, back pulled away from Megatron's chest, staring off.

Megatron reached out and pulled him back in, one arm wrapping securely before offering the half-full cube back. "Bit dramatic don't you think?"

"How." He sagged with the tug, taking another long drink and huffing after. "Frag me it's just as bad as when we were young."

"Yes. It's just what we needed." He smiled against one of Optimus' shoulder plates, helm leaned against the exhaust there. "And you're being dramatic. Yes, our actions caused a long, long war. But it wasn't your fault and I won't let you try to take that on. If anything we are equally at fault while simultaneously being a product of a system that was trying to use and break us. We were, as they say, set for failure from the start, and are we really to carry the burden of all because we didn't immediately rise above it in spite of our designs? We aren't gods or even demigods. I don't think the thirteen were either, I'm not even convinced Primus even is. Primus is just something so old and massive we cannot truly comprehend it. To use Earth's creatures, can an ant truly comprehend a whale?"

"Humans call that concept 'cosmic horror.' A human actually told me I quality as cosmic horror." Optimus laughed a little, the high grade pulling on his enunciation. "Because a human could never comprehend our age. It's beyond their understanding. They live a single vorn. That we last thousands, hundreds of thousands of vorn, breaks their minds. It's a reason some want so desperately to stay our friends. Not only because we may help them with their technology, their environment, but that we will never forget them. It's the closest they could dream to immortality."

"And how is that different than how we see Primus? If we die our energy returns to him. 'Until all, are one.' We paint murals of long dead Primes whose voices still echo though Primus-created conduits." He took the cube back and finished it, setting it aside empty, glancing at the matrix glowing on the floor. It pulsed brighter when his optics focused on it, and he could feel it reach for him. He shook it off, looking away and focusing back on Optimus in his arms, who was slowly going slack as the high grade did its job. "The point is, mortality is a logarithmic scale. You are not a hypocrite for dearly wanting mortal things simply because you are burdened with a splinter of something greater."

"Maybe." Optimus decided, folding his arms over Megatron's, optics half open. "It still feels... not meant for me."

"You are not a sacrificial anode. Neither of us are. And if we make it through this, I want to return to this. This pose, this safety. And discuss names again." He said it softly, half admittance half offering, and Optimus twisted and reached up, pulling him down into an awkward passionate kiss that tasted of cheap high grade, and he let himself get dropped through the eons, back in a tiny apartment in Iacon for the space of a few spark turns, their conjunx bond nothing but love and hope for a better future.

Optimus and Megatron called a meeting the next day for all their subcommand and predictably it went badly. Though really Megatron agreed with their sentiment.

Optimus wanted them to go on an exploratory mission alone and no one else agreed with that. Prowl almost exploded and everyone else was right behind. The Prime and the Lord Protector would have an escort, non optional. Which of course spiraled quickly into half the ship wanting to escort them.

"Enough." Megatron decided, pressing hard on his EMF, and was rewarded with silence. "Prowl. Soundwave.  We need you to remain and take command."

Both protested immediately, one hundred percent agreeing with each other that they were the best to protect their commanders, clearly.

"He's right. This mission is going to be largely exploratory. There's no active combat threat that we're aware of. So you two stay and keep things under control here. I've already recalled Bumblebee and Barricade. Teach them, Ironhide and Mirage how to run the space bridge and about ship maintenance." Optimus cut in.

"Actually Ironhide is an ideal mech to take with us on this journey. Comfortable on a lot of terrain, strong, good in a fight if it happens." Megatron tapped fingers on the table, thoughtful. "If he agrees of course, I think this should be a request not a demand."

"Good call." Prowl blinked, obviously starting a list.

"Medical support, speed, adaptability. We should ask Knock Out." Optimus half smiled at Megatron.

"Hot Rod. High speed scout."

"He'll enjoy that, he wants more field experience. Five total is a solid number for an expedition, unless you can think of someone else?"

"I'd like to come." Shockwave said abruptly, making everyone look at him. "I want to take official records of what happens. And I have a combat flight form, which would mean Megatron is not alone in the air if there's problems."

Optimus and Megatron looked at each other, then at Prowl and Soundwave. "Are your concerns assuaged?"

"Soundwave, would rather go. However, Soundwave trusts Shockwave to keep Prime and Protector safe."

"It's even numbers for the factions blending. And it's a decent selection of skill and combat prowess." Prowl conceded, still making notes. "Where are you starting this mission then, Iacon?"

Megatron was both surprised and not surprised at all when Optimus almost automatically replied, "Kaon."

The humans were back.

Megatron was speaking to Bumblebee and Barricade when they arrived. It was clear Bumblebee was still processing that he didn't need to be in active combat protocols if in the same room as Megatron. Megatron for his part ignored the high-alert EMF and narrowed optics, just focusing on catching them up and explaining their likely role in things if Cybertron was viable for them to return. Big if. Huge really.

Everyone is just kind of going with what Optimus said about it, borderline blind faith in the name of hope. That they are in their vestments, harmonized, is carrying a lot of weight.

Disappointment will destroy them. Even if there is laughter on the Ark, even if someone has sparked, even if humans would let them stay here for vorn. Too many would wither and fade, if this desperate hope fell through.

Bumblebee is pressing him for mission details he doesn't have when Optimus called. He left Bumblebee and Barricade with Prowl, who started explaining the operation of the space bridge, and walked though the ship and down the ramp. The cape shifted, draping his shoulders like a cloak, and he realized that snow was falling. "Bit cold for organics, isn't it."

"Optimus is warm." One of the humans replied. Optimus was sitting on the ground again, one hand resting on a truck parked there, cape draping so the space between himself and the truck was tented and dry. That's where the humans were gathered, those that weren't sitting on his legs of course.

"I'm saying some goodbyes, and they asked to record me. I agreed of course, but then they asked me to speak Cybertronian." Optimus quirked a brow. "And while I've given some speeches in my time, when it comes to oration in our native tongue, you are the undisputed master."

He cycled his optics. "Please. You don't have to oil me up."

"Come on. Let them hear the voice of Kaon I fell in love with."

The human's heads all whipped around to stare at Optimus, and for a split second the only sound was their engines at idle. Then one of the humans blurted, "I told you! I freaking told you!"

Megatron rubbed his face with one hand. "Fine. Did you have a particular poem in mind?"

"I leave that to you." Optimus was blatantly ignoring the low conversations the humans were now having.

"Very well. Are you all paying attention because I will not be doing this again." That made the humans look back to him, one moving and turning something on a tripod that his systems briefly pinged as a weapon before identifying it as human technology, specifically video recording equipment. He drew an intake, considering a moment, then started one of the poems he'd published anonymously, so long ago.

And the thing was, he had been a champion gladiator through strength and cunning, and those traits had carried him as Lord Protector and then as leader of the Decepticons. But what had made him a powerful revolutionary was his voice, his talent with words. Optimus' voice may be lauded, but no one questioned the command that Megatron could have over his own voice, and how mechs often swayed with it. If the weight of his heavy cape was meant to show the heft of his actions then the weight of his voice was nothing but weaponized intent.

It's all in Cybertronian of course, so the humans don't understand him. But they're all focusing on him anyway, following the flow of his voice, the roll and pitch, and it's bizarre to think this moment may be how he's recorded in human history. Not the conflicts or damage he's caused on this world, but this moment. Him wrapped in his cloak, snow falling and swirling around him, hands gesticulating as he spoke of old injustice and unity.

He's aware other mechs are listening when he finishes the poem. They're at the door of the Ark looking out, as if they didn't dare cross the threshold. He didn’t look back at them, just looked at Optimus, who was smiling a touch, the bond flooded with a terrible, brutal tenderness. "Will that suffice?"

"Thank you." Optimus bowed his head slightly. "I know it has been some time."

"Just pauses between stanzas. I leave you to your farewells." He turned and walked back to the ship, shaking snow off, and as he retreated he clearly heard one of the humans speak to Optimus.

"Okay. I kind of get it now you old wreck."

And that made him chuckle.

Their 'pedes touched Cybertron, and the whole planet rang under them like a bell. The vibration traveled up Megatron's frame, ruthless as it moved through him. It hit like a blast of static that cleared, like charge arcing his frame, awareness and rightness and sweet danger. It's only seconds since the space bridge, a few arrested intakes as his systems spun, confused and checking and rechecking if he needed to enter combat protocols.

Next to him Optimus was also frozen, standing braced and cape fluttering, little zips of charge visible between his plates. In any other context the sight would have been shockingly erotic. Now, it's alarming, like he's fighting a virus.

Then it's over and they're released, staggering and shivering, leaning on each other as they tried to shake off the feeling that they'd been the key in a great, unfathomable lock.

"What the frag was that?" Knock Out sounded shocked.

"Cybertron just woke up." Shockwave's voice was nonplussed. "Huh."

"Woke up?!" Hot Rod demanded.

"Yes." Optimus agreed, resetting his optics and seeming to get his bearings, finally. "Cybertron just acknowledged our return. That was a message specifically for us."

"What did it say?"

"Welcome home." Megatron replied, shifting his weight, paying attention to the barest of vibrations, deep in the ground under him.

Optimus, still leaning on Megatron's shoulder, went still then his EMF went off like a supernova. It curled around Megatron, forge heat and spark bright and blinding, like he was hugging a dwarf star. The others were all driven to their knees, reeling as they all stared at Optimus, whose eyes were liquid gold, the spaces where his protoform showed bleeding light.

"Hello Primus." Megatron said quietly, feeling the inescapable love-yes-hello-oblivion sliding around his spark, rubbing into him like an earth cat, pleased and incomprehensible simultaneously.

Optimus' head nodded, and this close Megatron can see Optimus under it all, trying to get control back. "Yes. Yes welcome home bitlets welcome-" the voice was not Optimus, it was echoing through deep chasms and across eons, a dialect so old Megatron's systems had to drag up a translation protocol he'd picked up from Orion Pax. "Change. It's time to change/transform/ascend?-" Optimus' glyphs stacked, slurred, and he went limp, crumbling fully into Megatron's arms as the light faded away slowly, optics barely slit open as blue slammed back into place like a victory dance. "Frag." Optimus croaked.

"As always you are a master of understatement." Megatron pulled a cube of subspace and held it to Optimus' mouth, resigned when he drank slowly then with more determination, bringing up a hand to hold the cube himself as he drained it. "Glad I brought extra. He emptied your tanks again didn’t he?"

"Empty no. Took a solid thirty percent yes." Optimus stood on his own, shaking off. "Well. Eventful way to start this journey."

"That was Primus?"

Both looked at the others, who were just getting back up to their 'pedes, all staring at Optimus. "Yes. He used me to speak. Happens sometimes. Used to be more often. It’s been… a while." Optimus shrugged, breaking apart the cube and eating it as he took a few steps. The ground flowed around his feet as he moved, the terrain rolling out from him, clearing the remains of long-collapsed buildings from the old street they stood on.

"By a while, you mean thousands of vorn." Shockwave deadpanned.

"A while." Optimus said over his shoulder, swaying a little as he stared out over the ruins of Kaon.

"This is good, right? We wanted to know if Cybertron is viable and this has been proof." Ironhide tipped his head. "So what now?"

"Journeys end where lovers meet."

Megatron looked at him. "The pits."

Optimus transformed, Megatron a split-second behind him, the others scrambling to transform and follow as they rolled out.

Megatron never wanted to go back to the pits.

He'd spent enough time there. Bled enough energon. Fought tooth and claw to rise up. But it's where he met Orion Pax. It's where he wrote poetry. It's where he started a revolution. It's the forge that made him who he is and he's well aware of that.

And in spite of the ruins around them that are crumbling as they drive by, melting into the surface of the planet. In spite of the landmarks changing around them, the roads fading as Cybertron took them back, he knows the way. He could shut his optics and find his way blind, it's so burned into him.

They pause at an open square to gape at the fountain there. The one Starscream found, he has to assume, but Starscream hadn't mentioned the size of it. It towered above them, cascading interlocking bismuth cubes, energon slowly flowing down in a sound that made him shiver. The sound had long stopped having positive associations for him even if he remembered the canals and rivers.

Optimus transformed and stared up at the fountain, walking along it, servos trailing along the waist-high base of it. A set of stairs formed as they all watched and he climbed them, cupping his hands in the flow.

"Is that wise?" Knock Out asked.

"It's straight from Cybertron. The real thing." Optimus drank deeply, pausing for a moment, one audial twitching before shaking off and walking back down. "How easily we forget it's his blood and we've all been living on a pale imitation. Drink your fill."

Shockwave didn't hesitate, walking up the stairs immediately, Hot Rod following behind. Knock Out meanwhile was side-eying Optimus. "You're acting strange and I'm uncertain what to make of it."

"Primus is influencing me. It's only experience that's letting me keep it together this well. It's a one-two punch of pleasure and pain."

"Pain?"

"He's too much for my frame. He's not intending to hurt me. This body can only take so much. Divine light sounds amazing until it turns you into a lantern and flash burns the energon from your body." Megatron reached out, setting a hand on Optimus' back, and it earned him a small smile. "You too. Go drink, we're going to need it."

He didn't want to argue so he did, climbing the stairs to find Hot Rod admiring the fountain and Shockwave scribbling on a data pad. "Taking notes?"

"Yes. I came along to keep official records. Whatever happens on this mission will go down in Cybertronian history as a pivotal moment." He showed Megatron the data pad, which had a loose drawing of the fountain and Optimus climbing the stairs.

"Someone has to tell the story." Megatron moved to drink and had to shut his optics because the energon hit like a punch to the tanks, saturated through him like wargrade. "Primus. We have all been barely surviving." Even as he said it, anger boiled up, low and hot, for what felt like the first time since Primus had intervened.

Hot Rod was looking at him sideways even as he drank, speaking after. "I dislike that."

"Why? Of any Cybertronian living, Shockwave is the most appropriate to write down an account."

"I've read all your poetry and essays. You have never had a single issue writing your own telling, in glyphs so powerful they rock mechs to their struts to this day."

"Thank you, I think."

"It was while we were at war. I was trying to understand you. I came away feeling like I understood you too much."

That made him smile a bit. "Someday you'll make a fine leader."

That clearly all but slapped Hot Rod, who gaped at Megatron. Shockwave watched this with a brow raised, scribbling still on the data pad. "I, what?"

"Political or military leader is the question I suppose. We shall see. What was your original point?"

"You're not sure if you're going to be here to write an account. How much danger are we in? From what?"

He looked at Hot Rod for a long silent moment, then nodded. "A fine leader. Don't concern yourself. This is a journey that Optimus and I are taking. It is our burden to bear." He left it at that, walking down the stairs as Knock Out and Ironhide walked up.

The Pits were gone.

Any other time across millions of years, Megatron would have celebrated.

Now, he and Optimus stand at the edge of a great chasm that cuts through where the Pits were. The arena he fought in, the shabby chambers he'd slept in, the damned mines, all obliterated by the crack in the surface of Cybertron. It went deep, deep enough it disappeared into total darkness, making it impossible to tell how far the bottom was. If there was one.

"Damn." Ironhide said, down on one knee and looking over. "Check it out, you can see some of Cybertron's inner workings and layers. And an energon fall."

"What do you think caused it?" Knock Out had one hand on Ironhide's shoulder, also looking over before shaking his head and stepping back.

"Hard to know. Actually, Optimus? Could this be on purpose, given how the surface of Cybertron functions?"

Optimus, staring into the depths, nodded slowly. "I am inclined to believe it is."

"Well, that's unfortunate." Ironhide stood. "Let us know when we're moving on."

Ironhide, Knock Out and Hot Rod ended up in a cluster, pointing at distant mountains and seemingly just admiring the view. With the city ruins returning to Cybertron, all but crumbling and melting fully away as they watched, the surface was being left as a clean slate. Rolling, shifting vistas, a new landscape of curving metallic formations rising like waves.

Shockwave stood halfway between them, taking notes again.

Megatron stopped looking over his shoulder and looked down again, and felt the magnetic tug on his struts, down, come down, join with me bitlet. He shut his optics, took a deep vent and let it out before looking at Optimus. "Do you trust me?"

Optimus' optics went wide, and something flared in their connection, something like recognition and awareness, before he looked at Megatron and nodded. "With everything I am."

"You didn't delete your memory."

"Of course not. I cleared my active memory after copying it to deep memory and firewalling it." Optimus smiled.

"If you are half as clever as you think you are, we may survive this. On three?" He took a few steps back from the edge, squaring his shoulders as his cape flared and opened.

Optimus backed up with him, bouncing on his 'pedes lightly, his cape billowing open in defiance of the breeze. He offered a hand and Megatron took it, lacing their fingers. "On three. Together. One."

Behind them he heard the others take notice, falling silent and looking at them. He stole a glance over his shoulder and saw Shockwave saluting them. He nodded slightly in return. "Two."

"Oh, frag, no!" Ironhide blurted.

"Three." They moved in unison, Optimus' steps faster to match Megatron's longer stride as they ran, and dove together, over the edge.

Their capes spread, interwove and suddenly they're diving with wings, hands still interlinked, descending fast and controlled. The planet rumbled and the gulch shut above them, letting them fall in consummate darkness for a spark turn then Cybertron lit up around them. Biolight, running in lines and pulses, energon flowing through massive lines, the previous falls rerouting to proper channels. It's a dazzling, living nebula, noisy and pulsing and it's never been so clear that the legends are all true and they're falling into the center of a living, thriving body.

And they aren't alone. They catch optics watching them as they drop, but never for long enough for them to see their owners. Terminal velocity, and the air is warm and humid and cycling around them. Venting. Breathing.

On Three. Optimus sounded sure and determined through their connection.  One. Two. Three.

Honestly Megatron's higher process has no idea what the countdown is for, but his lower processes and his cape know, and both capes snapped out and they're both ripped upward hard by their chest kibble as they abruptly slow, their capes parachuting them. Megatron barely has time to swear in pain at the stress rocking his chest struts before they hit the ground, hard. He staggered and took a knee, shaking his head hard once then letting Optimus pull him up. "Frag. You alright?"

"Yes, are you?" Optimus stepped in, rocking up to lean their faces together.

Megatron held him for a moment before nodding. "I'll live." He looked up at the dome they're standing in, taking in the lights, the remains of old murals faded to nearly nothing, glyphs painted in still gleaming gold that made him double take then laugh.

RISE UP.

Optimus transformed his shield out, eyes forward on a corridor that was opening ahead of them. "Time to make ourselves heard."

Megatron transformed his sword out, holding it up in front of his face as he pulled the program out of his deep storage and loaded it into the blade, glyphs racing across the surface in flickering red. "Just another hostile council chamber. We've made our points before. We make them again today. Let the universe stare in awe and dream to reach even the shadows we cast and may all our tomorrows become better yesterdays."

Optimus leaned up and kissed him, short and fierce and full of terrible, tender love. Then he put his optics forward and started walking, shield ready, Megatron right behind him, sword held at his side. The noise of the corridor was deafening, a spark beat that shook him to his struts, vibrations traveling through the ground that chattered his kibble, but Optimus seemed not to notice.

Then the walls disappeared, the corridor melting away and a spark so large his senses couldn't understand it loomed right above them. He was momentarily completely blind then something cut between the sheer power and him, and his vision cleared.

Optimus Prime, standing tall and defiant and wrapped in golden-white fire, shield up and breaking that endless power to both sides, giving Megatron a tiny pocket of safety. Beautiful and burning and everything that mattered in the whole of the universe.

Megatron moved, flipping his grip on the sword even as he spun and threw with all his might, the sword flying true and dissolving into free code that melted into the surface of Primus.

Optimus' shield gave under the brunt, knocking him back and Megatron braced and caught him, both staring up as the flow of light and power slowed, stilled, the surface of the spark above them roiling. It's a bated breath, a planet wide pause as their systems ping warnings, Primus is too much and their processors are burning as they wait.

Megatron isn't sure he cares. He'll offline here at the heart of his god, his star-crossed holy mate in his arms, and be beyond regrets. They'll become one together. Together lifetime after lifetime.

BITLETS!

They staggered and would have dropped to their knees but they were obliterated out of their frames, bundled up and out into arms/hands/indescribable limbs? And hugged into Primus who was nothing but effervescent joy and pride and love so massive Megatron is fairly certain he's continuously in overload and can't spare any processors to feel shame. He doesn’t have processors anymore, he's been reduced to spark and essence and memory, still tangled intrinsically with Optimus because there's no separation anymore.

YOU LEARNED! YOU FIGURED IT OUT! OH MY DARLING BITLETS I WAS SO AFRAID YOU WOULDN'T OH

"What?" Optimus said, tried to say, no body to say it with, his entire being a query.

YOU PATCHED ME. OH, GLORY YOU LEARNED OH THAT WAS THE ENTIRE POINT OF THE DUALITY OF PRIME AND PROTECTOR YOU ARE MY UPDATE PROMPT YOU WANT TO CHANGE THE FUTURE MY DARLINGS

"Yes." They say. Yes. Yes.

THEN CHANGE IT. I GRANT YOU ROOT ACCESS. BUT BE CAREFUL. WITH CREATION LIES DESTRUCTION. WHAT SHALL YOU DO, BITLETS?

They arrest, lock up, as the universe opened, but the uncertainty is swept away. It doesn't matter if they deserve this. They are deemed worthy and their people deserve better.

There are no hands to lace, no helms to hold high. They throw themselves into the oblivion of the future, and the world changes.

"... him go, you have to let him go. Primus how is his grip so strong when unconscious, Megatron let him go!"

Megatronus swam to the surface of consciousness, sensors reeling and wheezing in an intake, clutching at what he's holding and realizing it's Orion, held safely against him. "What?"

"Great, you're alive, now let him go so I can start triage." Knock Out was knelt by them, looking very freaked out.

That got through and he let go, pushing up on his arms and letting out a coughing ex-vent. They're at the fountain, half in it actually, their legs still submerged in energon and their upper halves sprawled on the platform they'd stood on to drink. Everything felt new, sensors giving him data sharp and pointed and subroutines spinning in confusion as diagnostics returned completely blank logs. Slag, he's a newborn sparkling with millions of years of archived memory. "What happened?"

"You're asking us?" Ironhide demanded, grabbing his arms. "Come on, up. Can you stand?"

"Let's find out." He decided when Orion coughed and stirred as Knock Out examined him. The connection between them is warm and strange, because they're separate again, no longer one combined wonderful willful spark. Fine, they're alive. No sense dalying. He put his hands on Ironhide's forearms and pulled himself to a kneeling position, energon pouring off his frame, then he's being helped to his feet. He had to lean on Ironhide for a moment, and let realizations settle.

He's in a new frame, completely remade and delivered to the surface via a fragging fountain of all things. And he's ... different. The Lord High Protector programming is gone, replaced by something else, and a piece of the former matrix is nestled in his chest, neat and surprisingly comfortable and not at all the ungainly, suppressive thing Optimus had carried.

He's still massive. A war frame. But roughness has been ditched for grace. He's not the coarse message of a tank, he's the oblivion-warning of a stealth bomber, in black and shining-gold. And the new programming curls in him as he looked at his unblemished hands, giving him name and title like a victory offer.

General Megatronus Pax, Pact Keeper.

He stood on his own, chuffing once then reaching down to take Orion's hand as he reached up. Orion used it to sit up, other hand to his helm, looking up. He's brilliant white, red, and blue, gold in all the details and an identical fragment of light gleaming from his chest.

Speaker Optimus Pax, Pact Keeper. Orion, to friends.

He smiled and helped Orion up, and they stood on the platform of the fountain and stared at the city that had risen around it.

Epilogue

Knock Out was sprawled on a medical berth, deep in recharge. One hand was stretched out, resting on the table next to the berth that held a brand new gestation tank. Inside a set of spark twins were curled together, helms resting on each other, their sire's bulk and color but their carrier's sleek lines. Off road all terrain racers, Optimus thinks, though its far too early to really know. All that really matters is that they’re healthy.

"Let him rest. Those bitlets were almost too much for his frame, blessing or not." Ratchet said, looking where Optimus was.

"I wasn't intending on waking him." Optimus replied honestly. "It's just still a wonder to see gestation tanks in use."

"Yes, well, we are constantly pressed on having enough. Primus tossed out sparks like a handful of glitter, and just like glitter they caught everywhere. We're going to have a population boom." He lifted a brow at Optimus.

Optimus pressed a hand to his chest, optics shuttering. "I'm hoping you have time to give me a checkup."

"For you? Of course. And tell your stubborn slaghead of a conjunx he needs one too." Ratchet moved, patting one of the new medical tables, and Optimus moved to sit on it obediently, opening his wrist ports.

The exam is almost habit, though Ratchet lifts a brow a few times as he scans through Optimus' systems and sees the changes in the holy code. The Prime coding is gone, no more massive code block pressing on all his processes. Instead there are small gleaming patches, here and there, woven neatly though all he is.

"I've seen you in a lot of conditions. Dead, near it, near code failure, resurrected and clean installations." Ratchet was thoughtful as he disconnected, giving him a long considering look. "You're the closest now to what you were before the Primacy."

"I'm not a Prime anymore. Even if everyone seems keen on continuing to use the title."

"Pact Keeper is still new to everyone. You're healthy. In defiantly good condition for all you've gone through. Primus does good work, the slagger."

"One wonders at what point I am the human's ship of Theseus." He ex-vented hard, and saw the look. "It's a human philosophical question. Megatronus brought it up to me recently." He stared down at his hands. "If my frame has been continually repaired, reforged, and has now been completely replaced, at what point am I no longer who I was? Would I even know?"

"None of us are who we were. And this is normally where I'd tell a troubled young soldier that the frame is in service of the spark. That everything around the spark can change but you're still you. You, Optimus Pax, are in the unusual position of having your spark rekindled, repeatedly. You've merged with the all-spark, become one with Primus, walked the threshold of being offline and stared at eternity. And you know what? In spite of everything, you're still you."

He felt optical fluid well up and spill, lifting a hand  to his face before nodding. "Thank you, old friend. I needed to hear that today."

"... it will happen, Orion. All your systems are ready and waiting. You've been waiting longer than most, I know. But if there is trouble catching it's not you. Tell your stubborn aft mate to get in here so I can make certain it's not him."

He nodded and hopped off the table, taking a moment to compose himself and looking at Knock Out again, still deep in recharge. "He's going to have his hands full."

"I think he's looking forward to it. Now go on, get moving."

Ark's Landing feels alive.

According to the seekers, the entire planet has been reset, all the remains of previous cities gone like they never existed. Optimus hadn't mourned. He and Megatronus had chosen that, to sweep aside the scars of the past and build anew as Version 2.0 of Cybertron began. And they used their knowledge to avoid prior weakness. No longer does Cybertron obviously glow with energon from a distance, no longer is it a sweet calling card to invaders. The previous wide rivers and channels are replaced by subterranean flows and sheltered springs. No longer do cities scrape the sky. Maybe someday they would, for now they're in a curving, sheltered city pressed into the terrain, warm and soft edged, light filtering through domes and skylights, biolight lacing inner rooms and halls.

The name is obvious, almost an afterthought. The Ark is still on Earth, a half-dozen mechs tending it and staying in touch with the humans, who were apparently shocked by how fast they all were gone.

Optimus can't be sorry. Not watching his people wear both Autobots and Decepticons symbols, or the new Pact symbol that Shockwave had drawn for them. Not watching little shops pop up as they start moving from colony to real, established city.

The shock hadn't been their resurrection. Hadn't been the end of the Primacy. Hadn’t been the Matrix being snapped and reformatted and given to he and Megatronus both. Hadn't even been that they were right in defiance of all written history and that he is now writing a user manual for Primus.

It was that as they had root access, Primus had reached out to every surviving Cybertronian with an offer. The dead were unreachable, long faded back into Primus and beyond. There would be no mass resurrection.

I AM SO SORRY BITLETS. BUT I CAN OFFER YOU SOMETHING ELSE.

And all the Cybertronians that previously should have caught sparks but were mired in war and survival protocols and a thousand very good reasons for a cold forge suddenly found themselves holding sparks in a dream, a vision. Even if their mates had been offline for vorn.

And they all claimed them in unquestioned unity, their lost chances, their miracles, their futures.

Break Down lived on in spark twins that defied all logic, and he was far from the only echo from the past finding new continuance.

And Optimus is glad for it all. He is! Everyone deserves it, those sparklings will be loved fiercely and protected by all. Soon the population of new sparks may rival that of the survivors.

But he's hollow, and sad, and self loathing for it all, finding solace in the arms of Megatronus as they build a new list of names, some of their favorites from long ago making the cut again. He's being impatient, and greedy, and foolish. He knows it. They are so lucky to have made it this far. This warm welcoming city is something he never dared dream of before.

He's standing by the central fountain, picking up an empty jug from the rack there, when Megatronus appeared and moved to join him, taking the jug and kissing his forehead.

"You're allowed to want things and allowed to be disappointed when your hoping hands are empty."

That hit hard, staring at his conjunx before ex-venting and bowing his head, nodding. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You are also allowed to have bad days." He climbed the steps and filled the jug, closing it after and setting it on one of his shoulders to carry as he came back down, lacing their hands. "Come on."

The city is small enough that key buildings are set around the fountain in a ring. The new hospital Ratchet was overseeing, which Optimus had just walked out of. A temple, still finding its final configuration. A public meeting house where Shockwave was holding regular public meetings to discuss the structure of the future government. And next to it, a central administration building. In the future maybe these things would separate, but for now they're all in one building, working out of the first story and living in the second and third stories.

They're still working out how the city will function. What jobs will be needed immediately and in the near future. How society will settle, no factions or castes. It's easy to say that individuals will determine their paths, that frame doesn’t translate to job, that all are equal. With their small population those beliefs are easy to maintain even with lingering friction between some mechs. The trick is maintaining that as the population grows. Making certain they don't slip down old bad roads again.

Shockwave has been discussing an elected government with voting on key matters. Humans use it. Megatronus was uncertain but has already conceded his concerns are military.

"Ratchet wants you to go get a checkup." Optimus told him as they walked up the sweeping stairs in their building to the third floor. Megatronus paused to put the jug down by the energon dispenser there. For now everyone is filling jugs from the fountain, which sort of maintained the feeling of going to the break room on the Ark.

"Of course he does." Megatronus huffed a laugh. "There's nothing wrong with either of us, Orion."

"Intelligently, I know that. Emotionally, I wanted some reassurance."

"I have better reassurance for you." Optimus blinked. Megatronus only smiled a little, chest cycling open and removing the Pact from his chest. "Ran a diagnostic this morning after meeting with Prowl about future military organization. Look."

Optimus' optics were already wide, hope and surprise and he wasn't sure what else, but he stepped in, hands softly framing the open spark chamber and setting aside the immediate urge to open his own. Megatronus' spark is bright and healthy, and in flickering orbit around it is another spark, the barest mote but there all the same.  He's leaned up to kiss his conjunx without real conscious thought, delight and excitement pouring into the bond even as Megatronus closed his chest back up, tucking the Pact away.

"I told you. We're perfect." Megatronus murmured against his mouth, arms wrapping Optimus' waist. Optimus just kissed him again, and let his worries for the future go.