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Summary
Optimus steps closer to the stream and freezes. His mouth opens slightly, the air in his nostrils suddenly burns, and he finds his hand flexing on the handle of his axe. The pale, almost blinding broadness of his back, descending decisively into a cinched waist and flaring again into…
It shocks Optimus just how fast he recognizes him. Even though, well, it has been some regret-filled time since he had seen him in this sort of vulnerable… state.
Megatron. He hadn’t thought about Megatron once! For days! He was in such high spirits, for he hadn’t been plagued by that ironic smile and taunting voice. And now there he is. Relieving himself of the planet’s heat in that stream, as Optimus had planned for himself.