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Two weeks had passed since the battle of Witwicky. And Megatron could count on one hand how many conversations he'd had with Optimus in that time.
Despite their lack of communication, Megatron had noticed that Optimus was fine with having him around, as long as they stayed quiet. Currently, they were working silently in the prison wing of G.H.O.S.T’s base, reprogramming the doors to only work with authorized Autobot codes. It wasn’t important work, but it did need to get done eventually.
The first sound to break the hour-long silence was the simultaneous beeps of their communicators. Someone was calling Optimus.
Megatron looked silently at his old friend, wondering if he would actually answer his phone this time. Optimus sighed, tapping his helm to pick up the call.
“Hey Optimus, it’s Bumblebee! So glad I finally got you on the phone. I was wondering if you were planning to meet with me this evening? Like we scheduled?”
“You know how things are here, Bumblebee. There’s so much we have to dismantle here at G.H.O.S.T headquarters. I have some very important, er, equipment I’m working on right now. Maybe we could meet next week instead?”
Megatron could hear Bumblebee’s disappointment. “Sure thing, Optimus. Same time next week? ”
“Same time.”
“Got it. Good luck with your… equipment.”
Optimus ended the call, and went right back to reprogramming the door lock he was working on. He seemed to be entranced enough in his work to ignore Megatron walking up behind him.
“What the hell was that, Optimus?”
“A normal call? It’s nothing.”
“The hell it’s nothing.” Megatron growled, grabbing Optimus by the collar and pulling Optimus towards him. “You can lie to Bumblebee. You can lie to Dorothy, to G.H.O.S.T. But you can’t lie to me.”
Optimus grimaced under Megatron’s glare. “I don’t see why I have to involve you in this… matter.”
“You don’t get to say that to me.” Megatron snarled, his red optics wide with anger. “Don’t you remember? When I pledged my fealty to you, it was with the understanding that we would communicate . That I would tell you and Dorothy about what I was going through. And years ago all I wanted to do was to shut down and bottle up my feelings, it was you and that damned ranger that pulled me out of the darkness. And here you are, pulling the silent treatment on me and just hoping I’ll play along. Well, old friend, you underestimate me. Maybe it’s someone’s turn to pull you out of the darkness for once.”
Optimus looked at Megatron, feeling the heat radiating off Megatron’s vents. Optimus gave a small nod of resignation, and Megatron let him go.
They stood silent for a short while. It took everything in Megatron’s power not to throttle his friend, to yell and interrogate and pry every painful thing from Optimus.
“I don’t know how to say this…” Optimus finally said.
“Well, why don’t you try.” Megatron crossed his arms, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He hated how impatient he sounded the moment the words spring from his voicebox.
Optimus looked away, raising a hand to his faceplate, and tried to steady himself.
“I— it’s just… Every time that Bumblebee calls me, or tries to talk to me… all I can think of is when I rammed into him at full speed, w-with Agent Schloder and the Maltos…”
“...Why don’t you sit, Optimus.” Megatron said, in a quiet voice. He gestured to a large crate nearby. Optimus nodded and took a seat, and Megatron sat beside him.
Optimus looked down at his chest. “Do you know how much it hurt to remove his yellow paint from my grill?”
All Megatron could do was look at Optimus with pity and understanding.
“I suppose you’re handling this better than I am,” Optimus said, a wan smile on his face.
Megatron gave a bark of laughter. “I just think we handle things differently.”
Optimus' smile grew slightly, but his face fell again. “What I really can’t stand is that everyone just… forgives me so easily .”
“You’re saying you wouldn’t do the same?”
Optimus looked at Megatron. “I…”
“You’re saying that you know better than them?”
“N-no… It’s just… you know well that it’s one thing to forgive others, and another to forgive yourself…”
Megatron vented. “So… you’re saying you can’t forgive yourself yet, because you don’t feel worthy of being forgiven.”
Optimus nodded.
Megatron sat quiet for a long moment, his thoughts heavy. “Part of being… forgiven, is accepting forgiveness. That in itself can be your punishment, your penance…”
Optimus looked at Megatron. “Was that your… penance?”
Megatron didn’t reply.
Optimus stood up, joints creaking under the effort. “Maybe I should call Bumblebee back…”
“And after you do… maybe give this person a call.” Megatron said, giving him a datapad.
“... a therapist?”
“He’s my therapist, so he can’t work with you. But he can recommend someone else.”
Optimus looked concerned— no, nervous — but managed to nod in agreement.
“Thank you, Megatron. For everything.”
“Anytime, old friend.”
Megatron watched Optimus walk out of the room, muffled conversation between him and Bumblebee echoing through the cavernous halls.
And it could have been Megatron’s imagination, but he thought he could hear a small ring of hope in Optimus’ voice as it faded into the dark.