Archive of Our Own

Megatron had thought at length about death.  His own death.  He had to.  His mortality never strayed far from his consciousness.  Being on death row does that to a mech.

Really, he’d thought about his death for most of his life.  From his dismal survival rates as a miner, all the way to the potential assassination from his traitorous second-in-command.  And now, to answer for his crimes.

What he hadn’t considered, was the possibility that he may outlive his co-captain.

Of course, he’d worried whenever Rodimus took to the battlefield.  Especially since his vow of pacifism meant that he could not follow—could not protect him.  But he always returned.  Perhaps scathed, but alive. 

And then there were his… ideas.  Meteor surfing, racing in the halls, agreeing to whatever dangerous dare that was thrust upon him.  Frankly, Megatron was surprised he’d stayed alive this long. 

But he didn’t die in battle.  Or from some dumb stunt, which Rodimus would’ve undoubtedly said “worth it,” if he could.  And at least these options would have given Megatron peace in that his death hadn’t been in vain, or at least he’d gone out Rodimus-style. 

No.

How he went was a freak accident.

A completely unavoidable—nigh undetectable—debris field hit the hull of the Lost Light.  Undetectable, because it was from the wreckage of another starship.  Wreckage with a somehow still-functional cloaking device that made it so they didn’t know it was there until the Lost Light shook from the impact.  

Luckily, they made it out relatively unscathed.

Unluckily, the damage left was devastating.

Some of that debris hit the hull at just the right speed and angle to break through it.  Rodimus had the unfortunate timing to be right by the wall when this happened.  Sucked out into space, shrapnel ripped through his frame, leaving only tattered, greyed remains.

Megatron had been sitting in their—his now—office, going over their next supply stop request.  

Less than an hour from then, he’d had plans to meet his conjunx for drinks.  A date that Rodimus bothered him about nearly all day, begging him to leave early, as he had been so bored.  And, oh… how Megatron wished he’d obliged him.

The attack on his spark had been agonizing.  An unrelenting pain that turned his chest into fire and made him want to tear out his casing.  It took over an hour before he could even speak.

Deep down, he knew what it was.  Because beneath the pain was a horrible emptiness that could only mean one thing.  But he refused to believe it until he laid optics upon what was left of his once-vivacious co-captain.

It broke him.

He’d mourned so many bots in his life.  Really, death had become such a constant that it was rare for anyone’s death to rattle him for very long.

But Rodimus.

He hadn’t loved him for long—hadn’t even known him for long—but it was a love so deep and all-consuming that he could not imagine going on without it.  It was a love that fueled him.  A love that gave him fire. 

But the worst part—the part that killed him, as well—was when Ratchet informed him exactly how he'd died.  After all, Megatron had seen him held together by a few welds and a smirk, but this?  It didn't seem possible.

It was his spark.  Or his casing, rather.  It had a weak point.  One that Ratchet had informed him he'd only seen on one other casing.

Optimus'.

It was the Matrix.  A mark left by the relic.

The Matrix.

"I killed him," Megatron said flatly.

Ratchet, sounding unnervingly compassionate, said quietly, "Of course you didn't.  He was just unlucky."

"You said it was because of the Matrix."

"Yes."

"So the only reason he had that weak spot is because I shot him."

"Megatron, you can't blame yourself."

“How can’t I?”

Ratchet placed a caring hand on Megatron’s shoulder.  “Rodimus wouldn’t blame you.”

Megatron said nothing.

For the first time in a long time, Megatron didn’t know what to do.  He didn’t know how to go on.  The oft fought over captain’s chair was collecting dust.  Their shared tasks were piling up.  Even refueling was too much.  And Primus, how he wished he’d hear the incessant knocking of Rodimus at his door, all-too-ready to make fun of him for moping for so long.

He couldn’t even bring himself to go to the funeral.  He wanted to remember Rodimus the way he was; full of life with colours so bright he hurt to look at.  The few silent moments he’d spent staring at his lifeless corpse had been far too long. 

He didn't regret his love.  Never.  To regret his love for Rodimus would be disrespectful.  But he regretted how much his co-captain loved him.  Because while Rodimus had much to offer Megatron, he had little to give in return, with time being his most precious resource.  Of course, Rodimus said he didn't care.  That he'd take what he could get.  That love wasn't logical or practical and denying himself of Megatron made no sense.  At least in his mind.

Megatron refused him, initially.  It stung more, now, that he didn't spend every moment possible pressed against his warm plating, but it was done.  He was glad his will was weak in the Prime's presence, and soon they were sharing a room and a life, waking up to Matrix blue optics full of fire.

But those vacant, cracked grey optics haunted him.

Megatron rose in a sudden fit of rage, tearing his berth from the floor and flinging it across the room.  Everything that wasn't bolted down had already been destroyed in his grief.  But now every fixture faced the same fate.  He ripped apart whatever he could get his hands on until his room was littered with bits of metal indistinguishable from each other.

In the aftermath, in a brief bout of clarity, he regretted this destruction.  This had been his only place of horrible solitude on the ship.  

He wouldn’t set pede in their shared room.  Everything reminded him of Rodimus, and the sheets still smelled of him.  He couldn't bear a night in that berth alone.

Megatron sank to the floor amid the debris.  The silence was stifling.  Before, even if he had managed to keep his mouth shut, Rodimus' near-constant fidgeting created a baseline of noise that Megatron hadn't realized was there until it was gone.

And then a knock broke the silence.

For the briefest moment, Megatron felt a rush of hope that this had all been a terrible dream that had crept into reality, and his co-captain would be standing there, one hip jutting out, smiling that cocksure grin that held so much more for Megatron.  After all, Megatron wasn't known for visitors.  But he came to his senses before he opened the door, and was already disappointed before he'd set optics on Drift.

"You weren't at the funeral."  There was a note of accusation in his tone, but by and large it was sympathetic.

Megatron avoided Drift's gaze and strategically blocked his view of his trashed room.  "I couldn't be there."

"You had to be," Drift said.  "Do you know how suspicious this looks?"

Megatron's hackles raised.  "Are you suggesting I planned this?  How the hell could I have—"

"Not me.  And not that you planned it.  But there’s rumours spreading that you were just trying to win over bot’s favour, and that you didn’t really love him.  Which I know isn't true," he added before Megatron could protest.  "I know how much you loved him.  And how much he loved you.  You made him so happy, Megatron."

"What good does that do me now?"  Megatron's words started out as a roar, but his voice broke into more of a sob.  He took a step inside, foolishly revealing the state of his room.  It was more of a junk pile at this point.

"Oh, Megatron."  Drift didn't try to step past him or get a better look, but once was enough.  He said nothing more, for there was nothing to say.

"It's nothing."

"You won't stay in his room."  Though it was a question, he said it like a statement, moving on before Megatron answered.  "We'll find you another room.  Rodimus wouldn't want this for you."

"Rodimus can't want anything, now," Megatron muttered bitterly.

"Megatron.  Rodimus would want you to be happy."

"How?  How am I supposed to go on without him?"  Megatron was being too free with his words.  Maybe it was because Drift was so close to Rodimus, or perhaps in his grief he just couldn't hide anymore, but regardless, he'd said too much.

"So, what, you're just going to wait to die?"  There was disgust behind Drift's words, and for the briefest moment his optics seemed to flash that Deadlock red.

Megatron stared at the floor while the hole Rodimus left in his spark spread.  "I was thinking of expediting the process."

Drift said nothing for a long time, but his field spread out to engulf Megatron in rage.

"First you don't come to the funeral, and now you're going to spit on Rodimus' legacy by giving up?  You?  Megatron?  You're giving up?  Where the hell is the mech I followed all those millennia ago?  The mech I believed in?  Because that mech would never just give up!”

Megatron was taken aback.  He swallowed around the lump in his throat.  "He's been gone for a long time."

"That's scrap and you know it!  I saw him captaining this ship.  I saw him loving my amica with everything he had.  If you want to believe that you've changed, giving up is the last thing you should do.  You need to finish this quest, Megatron.  You need to finish Rodimus' quest.  That's the way to honor his legacy."

Megatron said nothing.  Drift's words made him feel better and worse at the same time.

"He's always with us," Drift went on quietly.  “We still have his map and his vision.  His life echoes through our own, so long as we listen.”

Megatron glanced back at the wreckage of his room.

“Let’s get you a new room,” Drift suggested gently.  “Once you’ve recharged, you can come and say your good-byes to Rodimus.”

“You haven’t…”

Drift shook his helm.  “I knew you’d want to wish him off.”

Megatron swallowed, feeling a spark of gratitude.  “Thank you, Drift.”

Drift rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “It’s a hard time for us all, and I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through, but I’m here if you ever want to talk, or if you just need someone there.”  He swallowed audibly.  “In fact, I’d like some company right now, if you’re up for it.”  A tear rolled down Drift’s cheek.  “It’s so quiet without him.”

“He always made his presence known,” Megatron said, sadly but fondly.  "The silence is stifling."

"Which is why you shouldn't be alone.  Come on.  It's always easier with company."

Drift and Megatron talked into the night.  They shared a few drinks and swapped stories about Rodimus until Drift started to yawn and Ratchet came and fetched him for berth.  

A stab of envy rocked his frame.

Megatron stood.

“Are you okay to walk home?” Ratchet asked.  He still sounded so caring.  

Home.  

Home was a person, and he was gone.

“Yes,” Megatron lied.  

He couldn’t go home, but he made it back to his new habsuite.

He managed to recharge.  Somehow.  It wasn’t restful in the slightest, and sleeping late only appealed if Rodimus was half laying on him.  So he got up.  Forced some energon down.  Tried not to dwell.

It felt like an eternity passed before Drift was at his door again.  He subtly glanced past him, no doubt making sure he hadn't wrecked this room, too.

"Ready?" Drift asked.

No.  He never would be.  He knew he was gone.  He'd seen his corpse, for Primus' sake, but something about this mock funeral made it seem truly real.

His final good-bye.

"Yes."

Drift walked at his side, not saying a word.  It had been a long time since the two of them had spent so much time together.  At least without Rodimus acting as a link.  It felt strange, but also easy.  They understood each other.

Megatron had never been in the room Drift took him to.  He'd never attended any funerals aboard this ship.  Mainly because he assumed he wouldn't be welcome, but also because Rodimus had always taken care of the somber task.  Always taking their deaths to spark.

It was rather spacious.  By far not the largest room on the ship, but large enough to host a moderate amount of bots.  But given Rodimus' popularity, and status, he imagined his funeral had mourners spilling into the hallway.

Now, rows of empty pews mocked him.  He'd missed it.  He'd missed his own conjunx's funeral.

He was despicable.

And there, at the front, nearly hidden among the offerings of innermost energon, was his coffin.  His focus stayed there for only a moment, because a large screen above it came to life with a soundtrack of guitar riffs that was so disrespectful and out-of-place, but so very Rodimus.

The screen showed candid pictures and clips of Rodimus just being himself.  Seeing his smile—his laugh—made his spark swell and then ache to a near-debilitating degree.

So many of the clips featured him as Rodimus’ grey shadow.  He was either standing to his side or behind him, and in one Rodimus was perched in his lap, being far more affectionate in public than Megatron usually allowed.  Another regret.  He would kiss Rodimus in witness of the entire universe if it meant that he’d be able to hold him in his arms again.

"Are you okay?" Drift asked quietly.

"No," Megatron admitted, his voice strained.

"Yeah."  Drift sounded choked up.  "I miss him."  Tears spilled from his optics.

Megatron held back his own tears.

"Thank you for doing this for me, Drift," Megatron said.  "And for him.  I'm glad he has such a caring amica."

Drift smiled kindly at him, gently wiping away his tears.  "I'll give you some time."  He rested a hand on his shoulder for just a moment, then left.

Megatron waited until the door shut behind him.  And then a few moments more.

He approached the casket cautiously.  

His hands shook like nothing else as he reached into his subspace.  The tiny bottle of innermost energon was a pitiful offering and was outshined by so many others.  He'd given Rodimus everything he had left, but it would never be enough.

"Hello, my love," Megatron whispered.  "And good-bye."

He hadn't planned what he was going to say.  It wasn't like Rodimus could hear him, anyways. 

Somehow, he found the words.

“You were the one that I wasn't supposed to lose,” Megatron whispered to the casket.  “It’s selfish, I know, entering into this relationship on borrowed time.  But you were able to prepare yourself and I… I wasn’t.  I never imagined you would die before me.  And after knowing you, I…”  He became too choked-up to speak, feeling tears spill from his aching optics.  “How will I live without you?  My love, my light, my Prime.  You brought colour to my life and left only greys.  My punishment-turned-reward is punishment once more.

"I know it's what I deserve.  I know any modicum of love from anyone is far more than I deserve.  And what you gave me?  I couldn't earn that in a million lifetimes.  But you were so ready to love me.  So ready to look past it all.  You humble me.

"And I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry I wasn't at your funeral.  I should have gone, but I was weak.  And weak I shall remain without you by my side."

Megatron was glad for the obnoxious music, because the stifling silence would have been so much worse.

He hated the song.  But then, he and Rodimus had never agreed on music.  They’d learned to just use headphones or only play it when they were alone.  Every now and then, however, Megatron would be walking home from his shift and could hear Rodimus’ music from down the hall.

He closed his optics.  He let the noise wash over him.  He allowed himself a moment to imagine that Rodimus was blasting it, and he’d have to yell over it for him to turn it down.

He allowed reality to return, laying optics on his coffin once more.

“There’s so much I can say to you,” Megatron said quietly.  “I could tell you how much I love you.  I could tell you how much I miss you.  I could tell you every little thing I wished I had said while you were alive.”  He sighed.  “But all I will say is that the world is dimmer without you.”

Megatron sat there quietly while the video continued, anything but quiet.  

Until the music faded out.

“I just wanted to say that I have the best crew anyone could ask for.”

Megatron lifted his helm, and there he was.  Smiling.  Happy.  Alive.

In the video, someone just off-camera cleared their throat.  Rodimus rolled his optics in response.

“My bad.  We have the best crew anyone could ask for.”  Rodimus turned towards the throat-clearer, and said, “I also have the best co-captain anyone could ask for.”

He reached towards Megatron in the video, tugging him into frame.  He ended up hunched-over, frowning slightly.

“C’mon, Megs, crack a smile.”  Rodimus did just that, looking at him in a way that made his spark ache.  This was clearly before they’d gotten together, but given the affection in Rodimus’ optics, it couldn’t have been long before he confessed.

Sighing in the video, Megatron did smile.  At first, at the camera, but when Rodimus’ attention moved to the camera, too, his smile turned fond and towards his co-captain.

“I hope this quest never ends,” Rodimus said.  He turned his attention to Megatron again, and he wondered how the hell he’d been so dense at the time.  The longing in Rodimus’ voice alone should have clued him in.  But that, followed by that look?

He’d been a fool.

The video faded to black, then looped once more.  Megatron was spared having to watch it again, when Drift re-entered and paused it.

“Do you need more time?” Drift asked.

Megatron shook his helm as he came up beside him, resting a hand on his coffin.

“As much as I hate to bring this up, there are a few legal things you need to deal with,” Drift said.  “Rodimus didn’t leave a will, because… well, you know how he is.  But since you’re his conjunx, it’s up to you to decide what we do with his frame and all of his assets go to you.  He doesn’t have much, though.”

“We never legally made it official,” Megatron said sadly.  “And I doubt my word will carry any weight.”

“Maybe not, but Rodimus’ will.”

Megatron cocked his helm.

“Here.  Rewind made this for you,” Drift said, handing him a data stick.  “If anyone tries to delegitimize your relationship, you can show them this.  For now, we’ll keep this coffin here, until you decide.”

Megatron avoided watching whatever was on the data stick.  It was still too raw.  But one night, when he wasn’t able to get to sleep, he dragged his sorry aft to his vidscreen, and plugged it in.

The still image of Rodimus’ face taking up nearly the entirety of the vidscreen made him hold his ventilations.  That smile made his spark constrict painfully.

“I miss you,” Megatron said aloud, his voice hushed and strained.  “I miss you so much.”

He stared at him for a while, wallowing.  He knew, eventually, he’d have to hit play and face not just his image, but his voice and mannerisms. 

He wanted to talk to him.  He wanted to listen to him ramble off whatever captured his attention that day, or even about whatever Earth media he was currently obsessed with.  Hell, he’d be happy to listen to Rodimus reading one of Magnus’ reports.

He missed their talks before giving in to recharge.  These were times Rodimus would pose big questions with no real answer.  His wonder for the world and eternal optimism was refreshing.

Megatron swallowed around the lump in his throat, and pressed play.

“Who, Megatron?”  Rodimus scoffed.  “Look, I won’t deny that he’s easy on the optics, but he’s a pain in my aft.  I don’t like him.”

“Then why are you spending so much time with him?” Rewind teased from behind the camera.

Rodimus blushed, his spoiler flapping.  “Because I have to!  We work together.  Duh.”

“Whatever you say, captain.”

The video transitioned to a new scene of Megatron and Rodimus across the room at Swerve’s.

“Okay, something is definitely going on between them,” Rewind said.

“They’re just having a drink together,” Chromedome said.  “And stop filming them!”

“I have to!  I bet Swerve 50 shanix that they’re together and I need proof.”

Just over the din of the bar, Rodimus could be heard laughing, and then he rested his hand on Megatron’s arm.  His optics flashed flirtatiously.

“You’re seeing this shit, right?” Rewind whispered.

For the first time since Rodimus’ death, Megatron felt something akin to happiness.  It was still tainted by his grief, though.

He remembered that night.  He remembered that touch.  It was the touch that sparked the fire Rodimus lit inside of him.  While he’d been oblivious to what, in hindsight, was obvious flirting, the shock that ran through his frame from Rodimus’ fingertips on his plating made him realize that he was more than a co-captain to him.  More than a friend, even.  There was something there.

Megatron didn’t realize that Rodimus was flirting back for an embarrassingly long time.  In fact, it wasn’t until Rodimus kissed him, annoyance thick in his field, that he realized his feelings were requited.

Megatron paused the video, reminiscing.  He took a moment to take his Rodimus Star out of his subspace, running his thumb over his conjunx’s smirking face.  A memory came to the forefront of his processor, followed by a bittersweet smile.

“So, is this a thing?”

Megatron looked up from his reading, regarding Rodimus.  “Is what a thing?”

“This.”  Rodimus pointed to himself and then Megatron and back again a few times.  “Us.  Are we a thing?”

“‘A thing’ as in…?”

Rodimus gave a huffy sigh.  “Are you actually this dense?  Are you my boyfriend or not?”

Megatron just blinked at him, dumbfounded.

Rodimus crossed his arms while his spoiler flicked irritably.  “Whatever.  Nevermind.”

“Primus, Rodimus, give me a moment.”  He set aside his novel.  “You can’t just spring this on me and not give me time to think.”

“The fact that you have to think gives me my answer,” Rodimus muttered.

Megatron didn’t use that moment to think, however, because Rodimus was moving to leave.  And he knew, at the very least, that he wanted him to stay.  He rose and closed the space between them with long strides, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him.  He felt the startled and tentative touch of Rodimus’ fingertips.

When they pulled apart, Rodimus had a mystified look on his face.

“I love you,” Rodimus whispered.

Megatron’s optics widened, his mouth falling open.  His hands fall away from his face, but he let them settle on his waist.

Rodimus looked scared for the briefest of moments before resting his forehelm on Megatron’s Autobot symbol.  “Forget I said anything.  This is fine.”

“I love you, too,” Megatron said before deciding if it was a good idea or not.  It was true, regardless.  Rodimus was well and truly stuck under his plating.

Rodimus’ helm snapped up so fast that Megatron’s neck hurt watching him.  His voice was the quietest Megatron had ever heard when he said, “What?”

Megatron swallowed.  He found both of Rodimus’ hands, lifting one to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.  He gathered courage from the bright blue glow of Rodimus’ optics and said, “I said, ‘I love you, too.’”

Rodimus’ spoiler fluttered in the most adorable way.  “Wait, like, actually?”  It stilled suddenly as Rodimus dropped his gaze.  “It’s okay, Megs.  I’m happy with whatever you want.  You don’t have to pretend you love me.”

“I do.”  Megatron literally swept Rodimus off his pedes.  He gave a startled squeak.

Megatron burrowed his face into the crook of Rodimus’ neck.  He vented in his now-familiar scent and relished in his beautiful laughter and light protestations to put him down.

A fresh wave of grief washed over Megatron.  This one didn’t make him feel like he was drowning, but he was still barely afloat.  He sighed deeply, allowing himself a few minutes to wallow in his sorrow once more.

He wished Rodimus were here to make fun of him for how pathetic he was being. 

Megatron resumed the video.  

The bar faded out to someone’s personal quarters on movie night.  He didn’t recognize the movie, but he’d obviously seen it, since Rewind turned to find him and Rodimus.

Megatron had his arm around Rodimus, trying to be subtle.  The only indication beyond their closeness that pointed to their building relationship was the black hand resting on Rodimus’ waist.

“Oh my god,” Rewind whispered.  The video blurred as he turned towards Chromedome, shaking his arm.  “Okay, look behind you, but don’t be obvious!”

Chromedome slowly turned his helm and Rewind followed suit.

Megatron flushed a deep red when he saw himself and Rodimus, lips locked, oblivious to the world and especially the movie.  No wonder why he didn’t remember it.

“Oh my god!”  Rewind sounded positively giddy.  “He just had his arm around him!  They weren’t… well that settles it, huh?  They’re definitely a thing.”

Rewind leaned over Chromedome to where Swerve was shoving energon chips in his mouth.

“Hey!  50 shanix.  Cough it up!”

Swerve made a confused noise.

Rewind nodded back towards his co-captains.

Swerve nearly choked, openly gawking.

"Hand it over!"

Swerve reluctantly did so, and when Rewind cheered, Megatron and Rodimus jumped apart.

Rewind laughed.  “Don’t worry, captains, your secret’s safe with us.”

The video transitioned before their faces could turn completely red.

Chromedome all but ran at Rewind, picking him up and holding him close.  Rewind said something about being happy that he was back safe.

Over Chromedome’s shoulder, Rodimus ran and jumped at Megatron, his battered frame getting dirt and energon all over him.  He didn’t seem to care, holding Rodimus tight, and then kissing him deeply, setting his pedes back onto the ground.

“You’re alright?” Megatron asked.

“Got hit a few times, but nothing serious.  I’m fine, Megs.”

Megatron kissed him once more, then whispered, “I love you.”

Rodimus smiled.  “I love you, too.”

The next scene clearly took place shortly after the last.

First Aid was checking Rodimus over, giving him a small weld here and there.  Once he cleared him and moved onto Chromedome, Rewind made his way over to Rodimus.

“You and Megatron seemed pretty friendly back there in the hangar,” Rewind teased.

Rodimus blushed slightly, looking a little embarrassed.  “He worries, y’know?”

“Of course.  I worry about Chromedome every time.”  The camera tilted.  “So.  Are you gonna admit that you’re together, now?”

Rodimus laughed.  “Kinda hard to deny it, now.  But yeah.  We performed the Rites a few months ago.”

“You seem happy.”

Rodimus smiled, looking right at the camera.  “He makes me so happy.”

The video ended there.

Well.  That certainly was some proof.  Which meant Megatron had to make a decision: what to do with Rodimus’ frame.

The easy solution was to send it into space, like most of their dead.  But Rodimus wasn’t like most of their dead.  It wasn’t sensational enough.

Fired into a sun?  Fitting, but difficult to coordinate, and, quite frankly, it didn’t sit well with him.

Sending him back to Cybertron just made him sad.  Rodimus was an explorer.  He could never sit still.  Besides, the only place on Cybertron that Rodimus had ever cared about had been gone for millions of years.

No.  He needed something special.

Megatron called Drift.

“Cyberutopia,” Megatron said.

“What about it?”

“That’s where we should lay Rodimus to rest.  Like you said, this is his quest.  He’d want to see it through.”

Days passed.

Megatron stood before the daunting doors to the bridge.  He was late for his shift.  Of course, he’d missed so many that tardiness paled in comparison.  He’d been so grateful to Minimus for taking over in the meantime, but he knew he had to resume command eventually.

His first trial was simply entering.  The general hum of the bridge hushed as all optics fell upon their captain.  He returned no one’s gaze, but did nod at Minimus as he passed.

His second trial was far worse.  He came upon the captain’s chair.  The horribly empty captain’s chair that would never be fought over ever again.  Something that, many years ago, he would have relished.  Now, he would give anything for Rodimus to somersault onto the bridge and throw his whole weight onto Megatron’s lap, claiming that he “called dibs.”

Megatron stared forlornly for far too long.  He jumped when he felt Minimus’ hand gently touch his arm.

“Apologies,” he said quietly.  Just above his ventilations, he asked, “Are you alright?”

Megatron’s gaze dropped to the floor as he shook his helm. 

“I miss him, too.”

Megatron swallowed.  “He lives on in our sparks,” he said, getting slightly choked up.  “And in this quest.  Which I have delayed for far too long.”

Megatron strode purposefully towards the captain’s chair.  He paused before it, and he swore he saw a flash of fiery paint smirking up at him.

The void in his spark throbbed painfully.

If only.

With a sigh that had his shoulders deflating, Megatron sat in his rightful place.  He forced his back straight and lifted his helm. 

“Optics on your screens,” Megatron ordered, but with none of his usual power.  He took his Rodimus Star out of his subspace and fondly stroked it.  He managed a small smile before saying, “We have a quest to complete.”