Chapter Text
“You look like you've seen a ghost.”
I have, Megatron thought. Truly, what else could he think, seeing Optimus Prime before him? He had not borne witness to Optimus’s sacrifice, but one year ago to the day, he had seen the explosion of sparks emerging from the Well as he’d flown into the wilderness, and he'd known how that had come to pass. There could have been no other way. Even if there had been, Optimus had always been the self-sacrificing type, a trait both endearing and infuriating. And now a dead mech sat on the ground before him–a dead mech he had once called brother.
Optimus seemed different. It wasn't just the absence of his battle mask or the missing upgrades (Megatron did not miss the jetpack). There was an innocence in his optics that spoke of a bygone era. This was not Optimus Prime. This was Orion Pax, inexplicably reborn.
“I'm just surprised to see you,” Megatron finally said.
“I am too,” Orion said with a smile. “But I'm hardly complaining. Where are we, Megatronus?”
Megatronus. That was a name he hadn't heard in millions of years. A name from a simpler time. A time when he hadn't made quite so many mistakes. A time when Orion Pax had called him brother. Hearing it again was like a strike to the spark.
“The… The wilds outside New Petrex,” Megatron replied.
“Ah. That answer only raises more questions,” Orion said. He pressed a hand against his helm and grimaced. “But right now, my head aches something fierce. Won't you help me up, Megatronus?”
Megatron hesitated before extending his hand to Orion. Orion took his hand, his grip firm and warm. How long had it been since they’d touched each other like this, with kindness instead of anger? He pulled, and Orion stumbled to his feet.
“Thank you,” Orion said, looking up at Megatron with quiet joy. He didn't let go.
Megatron did. He could've stayed that way forever, but he couldn't allow that. “This way,” he grunted. He stalked away, leaving Orion to scramble to catch up.
They walked for half an hour in silence. The sun had nearly set completely before they reached the shack Megatron had constructed for himself out of rubble and scrap metal–a far cry from Darkmount, or even the Nemesis. But it was the only home he deserved after everything.
If Orion had any complaints, he didn't voice them. He simply followed Megatron inside. “Much has changed, and I remember so little. And you… You look so different. What happened?” he said. He reached up as if to caress Megatron’s helm.
Megatron flinched from the unselfish gesture, half-expecting an attack rather than a caress. “I…” He looked away and clenched his teeth. He had never considered himself particularly vain (that was Starscream’s flaw), but since he’d entered exile, he had not once willingly looked at himself. He did not want to be reminded of Unicron's alterations.
“This reformatting… It hurt you, didn't it?” Orion said gently. Megatron nodded. “Then we need not speak of it now, or ever. Only if you want to,” Orion continued. Suddenly, he hissed and clasped his head with both hands.
“Rest, Orion. You are in pain,” Megatron murmured. Holding Orion with only the lightest touch around the shoulders, he guided Orion to his jury-rigged recharge slab. Orion laid down and turned on his side to face Megatron. He smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but Megatron held up a hand and pressed the button on the slab's side. Immediately, Orion’s optics flickered out as he slipped into a peaceful recharge.
For at least an hour, Megatron watched Orion in silence, before allowing himself to lapse into an internal recharge cycle; they weren’t as efficient or restful as ones induced by recharge slabs, but they activated the necessary self-repair and defragmentation processes all the same. As he went under, he thought, The Primes truly are cruel, to bring you and your innocence back into my undeserving life.
When Megatron woke, the sun had risen and Orion had gone.
He shot to his feet in a panic. Where could that idiot be? he thought frantically. An amnesiac had no business wandering the wilds alone. Danger lurked around every corner–turbofoxes, energy leeches, stray Insecticons that had devolved into feral beasts, and who-knows-what-else. Did Orion still have Optimus’s weapons–the ion blasters, the blades? Maybe, maybe not. He turned to do something, anything, when Orion appeared in the doorway and his spark skipped a pulse.
“Is something wrong?” Orion said, tilting his head.
Megatron could only imagine how ridiculous the look on his face was, fretting over Orion’s well-being like that. “No,” he said. “I was simply surprised to find you gone.”
“I’m back now,” Orion said. He set down the things Megatron hadn’t even noticed him carrying, revealing chunks of beautiful, freshly-harvested energon.
“What is this?” Megatron said. He cursed himself immediately for such a dimwitted question.
“You took me in and gave me the use of your recharge slab. The least I could do is return the favor,” Orion said. A self-indulgent little smile spread across his face. “My memory seems to be coming back, slowly but surely. And it seems to me, given how efficiently I was able to find and gather this energon, that I spent some time in the wilds when I was newly forged.”
“Well, I hope you’re planning on telling me where you found these deposits,” Megatron muttered.
“I’d be happy to show you myself later,” Orion said. They set to work refining it. Without proper tools, the process was still doable, but incredibly tedious and time-consuming. All the while, Megatron stole glances at Orion, at the way the light danced across his armor and the determined set of his jaw and the delicate workings of his hands. He compared them unconsciously to the way that flames had reflected off Optimus’s armor, the way Optimus’s jaw had been hidden by his battle mask, the way that Optimus’s hands had held the Star Saber. At any moment, he expected Optimus to reassert himself and finally blow Megatron’s head clean off his chassis.
His spark wanted to hold Orion close and call him brother again. His brain module knew better. Such forgiveness was impossible. Rejection was inevitable.
By the time they’d rendered only half of the raw energon down into something edible, the sun had already reached its apex. Orion looked at the fruits of his labor with satisfaction. “I haven’t had to do this in a long time. I wish I knew how long it’s been. I suppose that will come back to me in time.” He gathered a few small ingots and went outside.
“Where are you going?” Megatron said. He grabbed a few ingots of his own and followed, but Orion had merely planted himself on a nearby rock.
“It’s rather dark inside,” Orion said. His tone was mild, but there was a flicker of mirth in his optics. He snapped an ingot in half and ate one half, visibly savoring the taste.
After a moment, Megatron sat down next to him and began to eat. The taste of live energon, of Primus’s blood, was and would always be bitter on his tongue after he’d poisoned himself with dark energon. Most of it had been purged along with Unicron’s vile anti-spark, but its tinge would always linger in his fuel lines and intake. He ate nonetheless, more because he had to than because he wanted to.
“I still have so many questions,” Orion murmured.
And I do not want to answer them, Megatron thought. He knew that honesty was the correct route to take, and that by giving the honest answers, Orion would only be disgusted and horrified at the bot Megatron had become. And then he would leave, and Megatron would be alone. A life alone was what he deserved, but it was torture, and like any good torture, he struggled to endure it.
If he deceived Orion, however–if he lived up to the Decepticon name he had disavowed one year ago–he could perhaps keep Orion with him. They could reconnect, rekindle their friendship, become brothers once more. The lies would come undone in time, for the truth always came out, one way or another. There would be a sword hanging over his head by a fraying thread. But if he just closed his optics and ignored the sword for as long as he could, maybe he could lie to himself as well, and convince himself that he was happy.
“Ask, then,” Megatron said stiffly. “Though I may not have the answers.”
Orion looked up at the sky in contemplation, before finally saying, “New Petrex?”
Of all the questions to start with. Yet that was Orion’s skill. He was still an archivist, after all, and as Orion had told him many times, investigating the smallest questions could lead to the biggest answers. “The… The old Petrex was destroyed,” Megatron finally said. For now, he would deal in deflections and half-truths until he settled on a course of action. If Orion was going to test the waters, then Megatron was too.
“How was it destroyed?” Orion said, a bit impatiently.
Petrex had been wiped out by the Decepticons. “Ask the Decepticons,” Megatron replied coldly.
Orion narrowed his optics. “Decepticons… That sounds familiar.”
“Mm.” It wasn’t a question, and therefore, Megatron wasn’t going to give an answer.
“Well? Who were the Decepticons?”
A mistake, Megatron thought. “An… anti-government faction. We– they sought to overthrow the High Council, who oppressed the people. They were corrupt. Selfish. Greedy. They cared not for the common people.” That was true, at least. One way or another, he had wanted the High Council deposed and to create true equality in their wake. But he had allowed his own vision to become corrupted as well, tainted by power-lust and jealousy.
“So you were one as well?”
Caught that, didn’t you? “I was.” That was also true. It left out a lot, but it certainly was true.
“You weren’t always so reticent. That I do remember,” Orion said, giving Megatron a little smirk. “Well, I’ll pry it out of you in time.”
“In time?”
Orion huffed and flared his plating. “Megatronus–” oh, don’t call me that, Orion, don’t remind me of my failings “–I am, apparently, an amnesiac. I am, however, a fortunate amnesiac, for I have stumbled upon the one bot I couldn’t forget if I tried. If you can’t or won’t keep me, then I won’t impinge on your hospitality. But I suspect Primus guided me here for a reason. So I suppose I had better ask outright: Would you let me stay with you, at least until I’ve regained my memories?”
“Stay here?” Megatron said, gesturing at his hovel. “This is no life for you, Orion. We spent half the day refining energon and barely got anything for it. This is but a microcosm of my life out here–hard work for no real gain.”
“If it is no life for me, it is no life for you either,” Orion said firmly. “Either I stay with you, or you come with me to the nearest city. And I have a feeling that you’re here for a reason, even if you’re reluctant to share it.”
Megatron gritted his teeth, but held his tongue. Damn Orion and his selfless, understanding spark! No, he was not ready to explain why he lived like this. Yet Orion was offering to stay with him, despite the circumstances.
Megatron was still, at his core, utterly selfish. “You may stay,” he grumbled. “I suppose it would be a stain on my character if I were throw an amnesiac to the metaphorical and literal turbofoxes.”
My, and here I thought I’d lost my sense of humor about four million years ago.
“Thank you, Megatronus,” Orion said, snapping Megatron out of his self-deprecation with that lovely, deep voice. He put his hand on Megatron’s, and Megatron nearly screamed. His touch was infuriatingly gentle and so, so familiar.
“Please, don’t call me that. Don’t you remember? I changed my name to Megatron,” he choked out.
“Did you?” Orion said, taking his hand away to press it against the back of his helm. “Nngh… Yes, that sounds familiar. The memory isn’t quite there, but I can hear its faint echo.” His optics dimmed, then flared brightly.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. The pains have not quite gone away. I hope that they will cease once I’ve g-gained my memmmmmories back.” The end of Orion’s sentence abruptly glitched and fritzed, the words nearly drowned out by a burst of static. He winced and covered his face with both hands. “Oh… Primus, why is this happening? It hurts…”
Without even thinking about the implications of his actions, Megatron grabbed an energon ingot (he’d completely forgotten about them) and pried one of Orion’s hands away from his face. “Eat. That should help,” he said. When Orion’s lips parted slightly, he ungracefully pushed the ingot into his mouth. Orion jerked backwards, startled by the intrusion, but he forced himself to eat the ingot. After a moment, his optics stopped pixelating.
Orion took a deep in-vent. “Hm. I think that helped. But surely I am not that drained of energon. Besides, my recharge was so restful. I woke feeling quite refreshed.”
“You ask me questions, but you yourself invite many more. To make matters worse, I suspect you don’t know the answers. How did you get here? What happened to your memories?” Megatron said. He grabbed his and Orion’s ingots and stood. Orion followed suit, wobbling slightly as he did.
“We’ll find out together, I suppose,” Orion said. He smiled again, and Megatron had to resist the urge to pull him into a struts-crushing hug and never let go.
“Inside. Now,” Megatron grunted.
Orion chuckled a little as he turned and followed Megatron into the shack. “So insistent.”
“I am trying to be a good host, and a good host is concerned for his guest’s health. Play along, won’t you?”
“Gladly,” Orion murmured. “This, too, feels familiar.” He touched the back of his head again, his vents hitching slightly. “I want to remember so badly, but it seems that will not be easy.”
“Don’t strain yourself,” Megatron said, gesturing to the recharge slab. It was the only surface to sit on that wasn’t the ground. Orion sat down. “You’ve already begun to remember some things. You might just have to let the memories come to you on their own.”
Orion let out a frustrated, almost petulant hiss, and Megatron stifled a laugh. The expression and accompanying sound were burned into his memory banks. He remembered their passionate debates and the way Orion would glower at him when Megatron got the upper hand. For all that Orion looked and acted the mild-mannered archivist, he had a well-honed mind that didn’t back down from a challenge–but even bots like that could get tripped up now and then. That little expression of exasperation had been charming, in a way, and it had only encouraged Megatron to debate even more fervently, to shore up his beliefs and ideas so that they might stand up to Orion’s scrutiny. As his reward, they would both be intellectually strengthened, and they would come out the other side of the debate closer than ever.
But that was then.
“Rest,” Megatron said.
“I just recharged,” Orion said stubbornly.
“I didn’t say recharge, I said rest, you nitwit. Who knows, maybe two circuits will snap together and you’ll actually remember something.”
Orion laughed. He laid down and tucked one hand behind his head. His optics glowed brightly in the darkness of the shack. “Maybe.”
Then he closed his optics, leaving Megatron to stare desperately at his relaxed form, to devour every curve and joint and pane and commit them to memory all over again.