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“May we speak in private for a moment?”
Ultra Magnus hadn’t been sure where the words had come from – well, certainly, they had come out of his mouth, he knew that, but there were far, far more pressing matters that could and should all be discussed with the rest of the crew. There was urgent danger beyond the walls of this very ship – not the Lost Light as every inch of purple reminded him, but it was otherwise so much the same, identical in every other way, and why would Megatron want this ship, why would he have searched it out in that other universe—
No. He had to focus.
There was a very real danger. They were on the precipice of death.
Again.
Truthfully, it seemed like forever ago that that hadn’t been true. The possibility of imminent death had become nearly like background noise. That very day, Ultra Magnus had thought himself to truly be dead, so death wasn’t new.
And what a twisted life he had found himself living that seeing Megatron’s concerned expression instilled far more fear in his spark than death had.
“Surely it can wait?”
Yes, it could, because there was a planet sized threat, not to mention the fleets of other ships surrounding them, and they had yet to hear back from Rodimus and the others left behind, and—
“Assuming there will be a later.”
Megatron’s expression softened and Ultra Magnus’s spark tightened.
“Clicker, keep me abreast of the situation as it progresses,” Megatron said as he turned to his crew. “Maintain proximity as possible should Rodimus and the rest of his crew need rescue, and let me know the moment they make contact. Understood?”
“Yes, of course, but–”
“A moment is all I ask,” Megatron insisted. There was stammered protest, but Megatron’s optics were on Ultra Magnus again as he turned from the group. “Minimus?”
Ultra Magnus’s denta ground together, but he followed.
There wasn’t far to go, fortunately. It was just one of the supply rooms off the deck, neatly organized with enough space for even a mech of Megatron’s size to easily move down the aisle. It still felt cramped with them both in the room, but that had nothing to do with the available space and everything to do with whom Ultra Magnus shared it. The door shut behind him as he followed Megatron inside and at once it felt suffocating.
“I apologize for the location, but given the circumstance–”
“It’s sufficient,” Ultra Magnus interrupted.
Megatron frowned, but it was so understanding, infuriatingly so.
“Very well. What did you want to discuss, Minimus?”
Everything. Everything, but also nothing, because what was the point? What difference would it make? Why had he even said anything and gotten himself in this situation; what was there to even say?
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
It was more accusation than question, but Megatron didn’t appear upset. If anything he looked confused.
“I don’t think I understand. Do you mean Minimus?”
“Yes.”
Megatron’s expression further twisted with confusion, and when he spoke it was with gentleness that was utterly at odds with the animosity that burned through Ultra Magnus’s lines.
“That’s your name, Minimus.”
“You called me Ultra Magnus first–”
“And I corrected myself.”
Ultra Magnus grimaced, because this was ridiculous, but there was no denying the way his spark ached every time Megatron said his name.
The way Minimus’s spark ached.
“But I’m Ultra Magnus right now.”
“You’re in a suit that was once Ultra Magnus,” Megatron corrected, still so gentle, still keeping the space between them though his body language was open, his servos relaxed and tilted towards Ultra Magnus. “I understand that you are comfortable with either designation, and most of the crew follow suit because it is how they best know you. However, I prefer your true name.”
Ultra Magnus’s servos clenched tight at his sides.
“Why?”
Megatron’s optics searched his face.
“I never knew Ultra Magnus as anything more than an enemy. I couldn’t even tell you when the original Ultra Magnus died and his frame donned as a suit. Ultra Magnus is not the mech I befriended.” Megatron’s pedes shifted and his servo lifted towards Ultra Magnus. There was an emotion in his optics that Ultra Magnus dared not try to decipher. “Ultra Magnus is not the mech I missed.”
Minimus’s spark spasmed with pain and the Ultra Magnus suit’s servos went slack and unresponsive.
The suit was failing him again and Minimus could feel the panic starting to build. He shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have tried to confront a mech he knew could trick him, could con him into believing his kind words—
“Minimus?!”
It was only when Megatron stepped forward, intending to catch him as Ultra Magnus’s knees buckled and started to give under him, that rage finally flared again, red hot and betrayed.
“Don’t!” Ultra Magnus growled as the suit’s motor system connected to his neural net again, allowing him to step away quickly. “You don’t—you can’t do that anymore!”
Finally some irritation flickered across Megatron’s face as he snapped, “Do what? Worry about you?”
“Pretend!” Ultra Magnus swung his servo out between them, warding Megatron off. “I won’t fall for your act again!”
“What are you talking about?!”
“You betrayed me–us! You betrayed us!”
All Ultra Magnus wanted was even just the smallest amount of guilt, or realization, or something. An acknowledgement of the pain Megatron had inflicted on him.
Instead, Megatron’s expression twisted up further with annoyance.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Megatron asked. “I went to the transport, but you weren’t there. You abandoned me.”
“Stop lying! We waited as long as we dared, but it became obvious you used the opportunity to get away!”
“No,” Megatron insisted, “that’s not—no.” Megatron scrubbed at his face, his plating fluffing out and then slowly deflating as he forced himself through a full ventilation. A terrible silence filled the space once he had finished and Ultra Magnus’s spark tightened with each suspenseful moment.
Finally, Megatron removed his servo to look Ultra Magnus in the optics. The manic energy was now just a simmer in his optics, stern but calm.
“Will you tell me what happened that day?”
Ultra Magnus’s optics narrowed as he said, “I told you already.”
“No, I know, but – tell me exactly what happened after I asked for a moment to speak with Terminus,” Megatron clarified. His focus was so singular as he looked at Ultra Magnus, pained and determined and longing— “Please, Minimus.”
The suit felt claustrophobic in a way Minimus could never recall feeling before.
“We went to the first transport,” Ultra Magnus explained flatly, as if it might mask the maelstrom of his spark.
Megatron’s optics flickered.
“First?”
“Yes. It wasn’t functional so we had to head to a second location nearby.” Megatron’s optics were dimmed with thought, but he did not speak, so Ultra Magnus continued, “Roller commed to inform you of the new coordinates–”
“Terminus.”
“Well, yes. I was speaking with a generalized plural ‘you’–”
“Terminus never told me about a second location.”
Ultra Magnus’s frame went completely still, his ventilations stalling, his spark skipping a pulse.
Megatron’s face pinched with a pained comprehension.
“I—dammit. Dammit!” The deep lines of Megatron’s face furrowed deeper as he scowled, optics finally looking away as he rubbed at his temple. “I can’t believe he—dammit, Minimus, I promise you that I told him explicitly I was returning with you. I had every intension and desire to do so. I had no idea that Terminus would—I didn’t know–”
At once Ultra Magnus felt his process split in two – split between indignation and disbelief and fear of being hurt again, and—
And hope.
And he had no idea which to believe.
Minimus’s spark wrenched terribly in his chest.
The Ultra Magnus suit buckled again and all that kept it from crumpling to the floor were Megatron’s servos grasping it by the arms.
“Minimus? Minimus, are you alright? Give me a few seconds and I can run a diagnostic.” Megatron was already shifting the suit so he could sling one massive arm over his shoulders.
“How can I trust you?”
It was unfathomably quiet compared to the torrent of emotions rattling through Minimus’s frame, but Megatron seemed to hear it just fine.
“I assure you that I’ve become quite proficient as a med–”
“How can I trust you?” Minimus repeated, louder and losing his grip on the monotone he had hoped to maintain.
Megatron stilled, and Minimus would have given anything to move the suit’s helm so he could see the other’s expression.
“I can’t tell you that. It’s your decision to make, Minimus.”
And just like that, irritation sparked in Minimus’s chest as he snapped, “And how in blazes do you suggest I make that decision when I have no proof?”
Of all things, Megatron ex-vented with a huff that nearly sounded amused. His free servo was on the move again, slipping into his subspace to pull out a scanner.
“While I’m sure you’ll hate this answer, I think you’ll simply have to listen to your spark on that matter.”
“You think I would bother to ask if there was an answer to be found there?” Minimus argued. The scanner came to life and Megatron focused it towards the armor’s chest – a coincidence of topic and the practicality that any connectivity issues between the suit and Minimus’s neural net would likely be located there, and nothing more than a coincidence. Still, Minimus felt exposed.
“If there is not one now, then give it time.”
Perhaps it was undignified, but Minimus could not help snorting derisively, replying, “And I’m supposed to just, what, walk around saying—” It took a second to search for the word before spitting it out, like the curse word it was “–maybe?”
This time it was definitely a small, almost silent chuckle that escaped Megatron.
“Primus forbid,” he rumbled. The scanner pinged then and Megatron didn’t continue speaking right away. Minimus could only assume he was looking at the read out, trying to make sense of the oddity—
“If you cannot say that you trust me, then don’t.”
Minimus’s spark pulsed hard in his chest.
“What?”
“I said–”
“No, wait, just—dammit, would you—my helm, I can’t–”
Another rumbling chuckle vibrated against the Ultra Magnus armor, but truthfully Minimus was more distracted by gentle digits curling under his jaw and around his cheek, lifting and turning his gaze to look at Megatron again.
Megatron wore a small smile, though there was increasing sadness tainting it.
“If you cannot say that you trust me, then don’t. I’m more than willing to put in the effort to build it again.”
All at once, the twisted mess of anger and shame and confusion faded, leaving only something small and warm.
“Why?”
The corner of Megatron’s lips quirked up.
“Because I’m very fond of you, Minimus.”
The suit’s servo twitched at his side.
“And how can I know that you truly mean that.”
The arm wrapped around Minimus’s back tightened almost unperceivably.
“You don’t, I suppose.”
But he did.
Minimus was certain of it, no matter how unbelievable it should have been.
Haltingly, his arm lifted up as his pede shifted, turning him towards Megatron, bringing them far too close with Minimus’s other arm still wrapped around Megatron’s shoulders.
Megatron’s optics brightened, the smile slipping away to something hesitant.
“Minimus?”
Minimus’s servo clenched and unclenched, reaching towards Megatron’s side, just as hesitant.
“If I’m being honest, I’m not sure what I’m doing.”
The servo against Minimus’s cheek twitched and then moved, though not away; it drifted down to the junction between neck and shoulder.
“Neither am I.”
Minimus’s digits found the space between Megatron’s arm and torso, but they stilled before they could touch, hovering over the plating.
“Is this alright?”
Of all things, Megatron looked flustered. His optics were bright and his frame stiff, and Minimus expected to be rejected.
“Yes.”
Minimus’s servo slipped around Megatron’s back to settle against the plating there as he stepped in closer until their chests met, arms wrapped around each other, staring at each other nervously.
And Minimus murmured, “I don’t think we’re doing this right.”
And Megatron chuckled as his helm tipped forward to rest against Minimus’s chest.
“No, I suspect not. Perhaps we just need to give it time.”
“Perhaps,” Minimus agreed. He shifted some, curling his back so his helm could fall forward to rest against Megatron’s shoulder in hopes of hiding the embarrassment starting to heat his face. However, there was an odd comfort in pressing his face against Megatron’s plating, and when Megatron shifted so his arms were more comfortable curled around Minimus’s large frame and Minimus found his face hidden against the juncture of Megatron’s shoulder and neck, he felt—
He felt safe.
Each subtle movement found them relaxing into each other, and the more they relaxed, the tighter their servos and arms held the other, leaning against and into each other.
Minimus’s spark felt as if it had swelled past the constraints of his chest, filling him from the top of his helm to the tips of his pedes, throughout his suits and his own true form. When Megatron’s engines began to rumble like a gentle purr, Minimus would have sworn his spark was on the verge of bursting.
And then Megatron stiffened, his helm snapping up.
“Sorry, it’s—”
“No, it’s—you should get that.”
The servo pressed against Minimus’s nape moved away to answer the call. The one grasping at Minimus’s back held firm.
“Do we need to–”
“Yes, it’s Rodimus, we–”
Their faces were so close as Minimus still held Megatron, each searching the other’s face, nervous and enthralled in equal measure.
“Later,” Megatron said as he stepped back, forcing them to separate. “We will discuss this later.”
Suddenly, death seemed so much more awful.
“But if there isn’t–”
“There will be,” Megatron insisted as he slipped past Minimus towards the door.
“But–”
Megatron’s servo brushed against Minimus’s, leaving behind a warm trail.
“Trust me, Minimus.”
And he did.