Hi! I'm Firefly

“Sleeping on the job, Optronix? One would think you didn’t care about the lead archivist position.”

The voice nearly sent him into a flying rage, but with his cooling fans working on overdrive, Optimus Prime kept himself from retorting or lunging immediately towards the other mech.

Slowly, his optics went online, and instead of the medical berth, he found himself leaning against a wooden table scattered with datapads. He looked up, expecting to see that hideous faceplate sneering down at him. Instead, a normal-looking mech watched him. While the smirk was there, Optimus could see the hint of worry in the mech’s red optics.

It would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so stunned.

Ultra Magnus?

Concerned for him?

Maybe he truly had gone mad.

“What? Embarrassed you’ve been caught? While I ought to snitch on you to your boss, I don’t care enough to go find the old rusty mech in the archives. Primus knows I’d get lectured alongside you if I dare disturb his oh so important filing.”  Ultra Magnus laughed, carefree as if he wasn’t just trying to kill Optimus a few kliks ago. 

When Optimus didn’t reapond, The taller mech leaned across the table, optics narrowed. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You need a medic or something? Not even a sarcastic remark, Optronix?”

“Where the frag am I?”

Optimus would never use such vulgar language - though they were unfortunately stuck inside his vocabulary like a virus. An irritating by-product of his friendship with Megatron.

A frown settled on Ultra Magnus’ faceplate. “I’m taking you to a medic. You must have caught quite the virus if you’re acting like this. Be grateful that you have such a caring older brother. I don’t want to cancel my date with Treadshot but if you need me—“

“Treadshot?” Optimus could vaguely recall the designation. “What are you talking about?”

“Treadshot. My partner. My conjunx.” Ultra Magnus snapped his digits in front of Optimus, as though trying to see if his processor was broken or not. “Optronix—“

Strangely enough, it was the idea of Ultra Magnus ever having a conjunx that made Optronix realize this wasn’t his world. 

The Ultra Magnus he knew was an ugly mech who had hidden his faceplate behind a hologram because no other mech could possibly be attracted to such an abomination.

To think this Ultra Magnus had a conjunx… Well, that was enough to convince Optimus that he had died and must have ended up in an entirely different universe.

Unless Primus had provided him with the worst afterlife imaginable, it was the only conclusion Optimus could reach.

It had been cycles since he’d have to play the role of an affable mech, but Optimus forced a smile on his faceplate, acting the part of an annoying younger brother. “Aw, you worried for Magnus?”

There was a long silence, then Ultra Magnus was forcibly pulling him away from behind his desk.

“I’m taking you to a medic.”

Huh… he picked the wrong personality then.

—

“His processor is relatively stable. No viruses in his system and there’s no glitch in his programming.”

Optimus sat at the medical berth, digits thrumming against the metal impatiently as Ratchet stated the obvious. He turned his optics to Ultra Magnus who was leaning on the wall, an indifferent look on his faceplates though the tenseness in his frame betrayed his worry. Once he was alone, Optimus needed a good laugh. 

Ultra Magnus… caring for him…

What a joke.

“Then the change in personality?” Ultra Magnus drawled out, sounding as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Optimus caught Ratchet’s optics, the medic flashing him a grin as though they were sharing a secret.

It wasn’t the first look the medic had given him. In his spark, he was delighted to know that in this universe, Ratchet seemed to be much more amicable towards him. It seemed that his counterpart was well-acquainted with Ratchet if they were exchanging snide looks. Though there was also the flicker of rage. In his world, the medic had left with that traitor Goldbug. While Optimus could simply discard the other mech before he could betray him again, it would be best to stay in the mech’s good graces. Ratchet had been a brilliant asset regardless of his treachery. Optimus would simply have to keep the medic from betraying him.

“Have you considered that your brother is simply… happy?” Ratchet had turned to Ultra Magnus, an amused glint in his optics as he crossed his servos in front of his chassis. “If the problem is a change in personality, then I suggest you leave my clinic. I’m a medic, not a psychologist.”

“Run the tests again.” The words were gritted out. Optimus took note of it. This Ultra Magnus seemed to really care about his younger brother. While he was loath to work with the mech again, Optimus knew an opportunity when he saw one. Perhaps in this universe, once he began his ascent to power again, he could manipulate the other mech’s care for him to keep him in line.

After another grueling joor of being poked and prodded, Ratchet confirmed the same diagnosis: Optronix was medically-sound.

There was a clear distress in Ultra Magnus’ optics.

“Apologies for my brother, Ratchet. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.” He tried to keep his tone steady, refusing to stick to a particular personality until he knew what Optronix had been like.

The medic let out a laugh, opening his intake but Ultra Magnus cut him off.

“Are you two… friends?”

The question caught Optimus off-guard.

What was wrong with his other version that prompted that question?

“Of course I have friends.” He scoffed, and that removed all the tension in Ultra Magnus’ frame. At least now he knew that talking back was normal for his other version.

But another thought came into his processor.

If Ultra Magnus thought Optronix didn’t have friends…

Then did he not know Megatron in this universe?

—

After his visit to the clinic, and with a bit of convincing, Ultra Magnus had escorted him home before leaving to meet with Treadshot. Optimus had quickly searched the entire apartment, intending to find any information that would better assist him in impersonating Optronix. He had found quite a bit of information.

For one, his other version was pathetically depressing.

The apartment had no distinguishable personality, nothing to indicate that his other version cared for anything aside from the mess of books on the ground.

Optimus had his own side interests, like listening to Megatron’s passionate speeches because the other mech really had been amusing, so he felt a bit of disappointment at his other self for having… nothing.

Optronix was a librarian. Optimus had been a senator. 

What an inferior mech…

Optimus was about to give up on his fruitless search when he took note of a datapad on a table near the berth.

It gave him everything he needed to know about Optronix.

Optimus had to applaud his other version, his plans were quite meticulous and as depressed as his other version may have been, it seemed the other mech had hated his lack of power.

Enough that he was willing to do anything to seize any for himself.

They were similar in that way.

There was no mention of Metroplex in the plans, but he wasn’t surprised that Starscream’s designation was brought up. Starscream in the other world had been a scientist - not the most brilliant but he would have been a good asset if he had chosen to submit to his rule. In this world, it seemed as though Starscream was a well-known genius.

Optronix had written it all down for Optimus to scour through. An extensive plan to recruit particular mechs, and if he was able to recruit Starscream, he would gain access to Crystal City’s advanced technology. With that technology, Optronix planned to sweep through Cybertron’s cities until he was the sole ruler of the entire planet.

An interesting plan, well-designed and one Optimus would certainly utilize to his advantage. It gave him a better view of what this universe was like and what he could use in his ascent to power.

A shame that this universe’s Starscream didn’t seem to have a Jetfire. Optimus had taken note of how close those two mechs had been in his universe. He could have used both of them against the other to keep them in line.

But there was one other designation that Optimus had searched for. He must have read the datapad three times before he finally came to the same conclusion he had reached at the clinic.

Optronix did not know Megatron.

He didn’t know why, but he felt personally insulted by that.

Where in the designation of Primus was Megatron in this universe?

He had killed his own in the end, but Optimus would not accept the mech’s absence in this new universe.

Megatron would not escape his grasp for the second time.

—

A mathematician.

This universe’s Megatron was a mathematician.

It was such a bizarre fact that Optimus couldn’t even laugh.

He thought of his own Megatron, the miner turned civil rights activist that opposed him the entirety of their friendship. No matter what angled Optimus had tried, Megatron had never trusted him fully. He had lectured Optimus as though they were friends, but Megatron never could see him that way. Optimus chalked it up to the other mech’s distrust of authority.

Optimus was well aware that the other mech had never shared the same affection he had felt.

‘That’s where you are wrong, Orion. You may have offered me a place at your side… but I never could have been on your side.’

He had to admit, killing Megatron was the only regret he ever had after he had returned home to Cybertron.

While he hated the traitors Goldbug, Prowl, and Ultra Magnus, no other mech had compared to Megatron.

He had lost the only mech that he thought he deserved to have.

Now they were both dead in their universe.

Was Megatron given the same second chance that he had?

Optimus stared down at the datapad in his servos, leaning his helm back against the berth as he scoured some of the available pictures of this universe’s Megatron.

He had searched the other mech’s designation in the system, hoping that somehow in this universe Megatron had made a reputation for himself that he would be famous enough to pop up among the search results.

He had been instantly met with mathematical papers and a profile from the Polyhex Institute. Not only was Megatron a mathematician, he was also a professor.

Optimus had a difficult time recognizing the mech in the picture.

While this universe’s Megatron looked similar to his own, it was startling to see the easy smile on the other mech’s faceplate. It didn’t appear forced, rather it appeared as though it was a gesture that came to this universe’s Megatron easily.

He had a difficult time equating this Megatron from the Megatron he knew. Even when their friendship was somewhat amicable, his Megatron usually held an irritated scowl on his faceplate. He had been rough around the edges, his experience as a miner having shaped him into a jaded mech that sometimes Optimus had wondered what kept the hope in the other mech’s spark from dimming. It was that juxtaposition that made him so entertaining.

If only his Megatron had stayed by his side…

His optics focused on the picture again.

This universe’s Megatron had the same blue optics, but there was no weariness in their gaze. Rather, there was an openness in that faceplate, a mech who looked like he trusted and forgave too easily.

While Optimus missed the Megatron of his universe (for he had been the first love he had known), he would be lying if he said he wasn’t endeared by this universe’s Megatron.

This version was untouched by life’s hardships.

A clean slate.

—

Blue optics glowed in the darkness as the sun dipped past the horizon, bathing Professor Megatron’s office in shadows.

He could feel the shake in his servos, the horror across his faceplate as he read through the equations again and again.

He couldn’t remember how long he had stood there, but from the stiffness in his frame, it must have been joors.

Even as the formula disappeared before him, engulfed by the black of the coming lunar cycle, he could almost see the numbers flashing across in his processor. 

Recharge would not come easily.

Megatron knew it would not come easily for a very long time.

When he had begun his calculations a few astroweeks ago, it had been a mere curiosity that he had wanted to indulge. The school year in the Institute of Polyhex had officially ended and most of the students had returned home to their cities. As Megatron was one of the few professors who resided on campus, he had a lot of free time on his servos.

He had planned to publish his views on the theory of psychohistory, a controversial branch of science that most of his colleagues had ridiculed in the past. Megatron hadn’t had the time to look into it himself, but he had decided he would after cycles of putting the task to the side.

Now… he was unsure if that had been a good idea.

If the theory was true, then the entire world was about to be put into upheaval.

Civil war…

Wars were a phenomenon of the ancient past, when Cybertronian cities were still divided and scrounging for land.

After many treaties and alliances, Cybertron had come into a peaceful golden era.

How many generations has it been since the last war?

Megatron was no historian, but he was quite certain that there was no mech currently alive that had actually witnessed a war.

There remained warriors, but they’ve never truly seen a battlefield.

Now all of Cybertron was about to plunge into a new era of bloodshed.

Megatron let out a shaky vent, unable to believe the answer his calculations had given.

He’d have to consult his colleagues. Even if psychohistory was controversial, the results needed to be shared.

Megatron could not close his optics to a possible civil war.

He would never forgive himself if it came true and he had done nothing to stop it.

Suddenly, a notification from the datapad on his desk broke him from his thoughts.

He turned, feeling the ache in his frame as he reached his desk and grabbed the datapad with his servos.

A message.

He frowned, unable to recognize the ID that had sent it:

‘Dear Professor,

I am a librarian from the City of Iacon. I have recently come across a few of your papers and I’m interested to learn more from you. Forgive me for being so bold, but if you have the time, I would love to keep up this correspondence with you.’

Sincerely,

When you are banished from the only home you’ve ever known, where do you go?

Dee thought he had a home.

Pax had been his home.

Then he met Prime, and Dee realized he never had a home. 

He had carved a place for himself inside Pax’s spark and called it home, but to the other mech, Dee would never have been enough. He had wanted more, not that Dee could resent him for it now. It was for the best that they parted.

Pax could have his dream, and Dee could have his.

Yet even now, the stars continue to slip through his digits.

Was it the moral core in his processor that grounded him, or the golden cage he’d willingly chosen to enter?

Now… Dee thought that wasn’t fair.

After he had fruitlessly battled Pax to save a mech Dee didn’t think deserved to live anyway, Starscream had generously taken him in knowing that the rough terrain of the surface would have eventually killed him.

Dee was not a survivor. Never had been.

He had followed Sentinel’s words without doubt. He kept his helm low, and never questioned the system they had been placed within.

Pax was the survivor.

That’s why Primus chose him.

And it’s why Pax would never have stayed with Dee. He would have never settled for a life he thought he didn’t deserve.

Even with the rule of a new Prime, there was nothing stopping Dee from leaving. The Quintessons had been defeated. All that remained was Optimus Prime and the tyranny he posed.

He couldn’t leave though.

He owed too much to the High Guard to abandon them.

He owed it to Starscream. After everything, he owed it to him the most…

Besides, he already asked Starscream once.

He tried to ask.

Once.

—

Starscream couldn’t help but keep both his optics on his new responsibility.

Starscream had been older than Dee when he had first applied to the High Guard. It had been a decision he had made, and a choice he would never regret. He had chosen to fight for the planet he loved.

A war was no place for a mech so young.

When Starscream could force his anger down, even he felt sorry for the new Prime. Ambitious as Orion Pax may have been, Starscream knew the young mech was not ready for the responsibility of being a Prime and the Matrix-holder.

The Thirteen Primes had been vastly older and Starscream had to deal with their tantrums.

Well not all of them.

Megatronus had been…

He had been wonderful.

The kindest and strongest mech he had ever known. A true warrior of both the body and the spark. Starscream would have laid down his life for his Prime if Megatronus had ever allowed him to.

How many lunar cycles did they spend together? Megatronus Prime would always whisper to him - as though it was their secret - that he wished his fellow Primes were not so wrathful and so power hungry.

Starscream missed him—

“Starscream?”

He shook his helm, forcing a scowl to his faceplate as he turned to the younger mech. They were both in the medical bay, and if Dee hadn’t been the medic assigned during this particular joor, Starscream might have put up more of a fight. He never did like being grounded. Also, it didn’t help that the only other medic around was Shockwave who would have fussed over Starscream as if he was a sparkling and not the Commander of the High Guard.

“What? I told you and those pain-in-the-aft trine brothers of mine that the scratches in my wings did not need repairs!” It had been nothing more than a scuffle between him and one of the Prime’s scouts. Really, Thundercracker and Skywarp had given him more pain by dragging him to the medical bay. “This is a waste of medical resources—”

“...That wasn’t what I was going to say.” Dee muttered, the words low in his vocoder that Starscream’s audials nearly missed it.

“Is your shift over? If it is then let me out, I don’t want to deal with Shockwave.” He rolled his optics. Shockwave’s high empathy was the reason why Starscream made him medic… but Primus knows that the other mech meddled too much.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say but… Starscream, as the leader of the High Guard, I don’t think it’s a waste to use our medical resources on you.” The younger mech’s blue optics met his own, a hardness in his eyes. “When I was a miner, medical supplies were abundant but it would cost us our energon rations if we were to be sent to the medical bay. I know you want to keep the High Guard functioning by conserving resources, but I don’t think depriving anyone of medical assistance will help. Especially if you deprive yourself, Commander.”

“Is that anyway to talk to your superior officer?” A growl tore through his vocoder, though both mechs knew it held no threat. 

He held too much of a softspark for his new responsibility.

“Starscream, you deserve to live for yourself too.”

‘You shouldn’t throw your life away for mine.’

Starscream nearly fell off the medical berth. He placed a servo to his helm, surprised to hear the voice of a mech long dead. Slowly, he turned his optics to a startled Dee, who watched him with a concerned gaze.

He hated that this wasn’t the first time Megatronus Prime’s ghost had come to haunt him.

He had spent fifty cycles trying to forget what he had lost, and yet all of that effort was thrown away the moment this… this…

Starscream hated how the young mech reminded him too much of Megatronus.

Maybe it was the stupid helm shape. 

But mostly it was the personality, and that they both had wanted a world where they could live in peace.

What Starscream hated the most was that he had allowed Dee to study his transformation cog, because now—

“Starscream?”

His processor halted in its thoughts, and Starscream remembered himself. He focused all his attention back on the younger mech - whose blue optics had lowered, as though the ground was suddenly interesting.

“What?” He couldn’t stop the irritation from seeping into his voice, though they both knew it was never real.

“Now that the war with the Quintessons is over… and if only because of you that I have the ability to transform and fly… I wanted…” The young mech finally met his optics, and a sense of dread made the spark in his chassis grow cold. “Forgive me, but I wish to leave Cybertron—”

“Have you lost your processor?!” His voice went shrill and before he knew it, his servos were gripping onto the younger mech’s shoulder pads, the metal creaking underneath his strength. “The Quintessons may not be attacking the surface of Cybertron, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t waiting in orbit!”

“You heard the decree they sent out. They won’t be coming back. Not after everything that Prime did.” Dee shuddered in his hold, though Starscream truly couldn’t tell if it was fear of the horrors they had witnessed the new Prime commit or if he was… scared of Starscream himself.

He loosened his grip, guilt already gnawing at his spark.

“We don’t know that.”

But Starscream did.

The death of the Thirteen Primes had incentivized the Quintessons into staying and forcing Sentinel into serving them. But with the return of a new Prime, one somehow worse than all thirteen combined, the Quintessons wouldn’t dare to come back. 

After all, they only forced Sentinel into serving their needs as penance for what the Thirteen Primes had done to them.

The Quintessons had never started the war, they weren’t about to stay for another one.

“Listen to me.” Starscream took his servos off of Dee’s shoulder, though he wanted nothing more to keep the younger mech close. “The Quintessons may have left, but they may still be lurking in Cybertronian airspace. You cannot leave Cybertron.”

“Starscream, with all due respect, I don’t believe that and I know you don’t either.”

At that comment, Starscream can’t help but sympathize with Prime. It was wrong, but Starscream did miss when the younger mech had been more agreeable and willing to go along with his words.

The confrontation with Sentinel had taught the young mech to be doubtful.

And that was good!

Starscream just… wished the younger didn’t show the same scrutiny towards his own authority.

“You want me to tell the truth? Then I will.” Starscream stood up from the medical berth, approaching the younger mech who held his ground.

There was no fear in Dee’s eyes, and Starscream was grateful for that. 

Even now, there was still some trust.

“The High Guard cannot afford to lose more mechs.”

Blue optics widened, surprise meeting the coldness that Starscream forced into his gaze.

Right now, he couldn’t be Dee’s friend.

He couldn’t even be a mentor.

Right now, if he wanted to ensure the younger mech stayed, then he needed to be a Commander.

“We have had our losses during our battle with the Quintessons, and while some Iaconians have defected to our side, we cannot afford to lose anymore.” He could feel guilt at using his dead comrades as his excuse, but Starscream could not let Dee leave. “You’re one of two medics right now. While we have new ones in training, we cannot lose you. Remember what it was like back when you were a miner, imagine what would have happened if they didn’t have a medic that could attend to you?”

It was a low blow, and from the horror in the younger mech’s optics, Starscream knew the question he had posed was not a hypothetical.

He let out a soft vent, reaching out to place a servo on the younger mech.

“The High Guard needs you.”

His grip tightened.

Megatronus would hate him for this.

But what had Dee said?

‘You deserve to live for yourself too.’

He had lost Megatronus cycles ago.

He was not about to lose his new ward too.

Starscream didn’t miss the flash of fear in Dee’s blue optics.

“I’ll stay.”

—

Optimus didn’t know loss until he had lost Dee.

That’s why when he had learned the bitterness of that feeling did he only recognize the look in that pathetic High Guard leader’s optics.

Loss.

Optimus knew the mech’s story.

The Thirteen Primes rarely kept records of their personal thoughts, but Optimus had been lucky enough to find one of Megatronus’ in the archives. Probably the only Prime who had the time since he was the weakest out of all of them.

There was a lot of information about that High Guard Commander in those records.

Perhaps, a bit too much.

The realization of the similar loss they both shared had only come when Optimus had accidentally come across Starscream and Dee on the surface.

He would usually send scouts, but Optimus had wanted to find the High Guard base for himself.

Optimus had hidden himself before the two mechs could spot him.

His spark had ached at the sight of Dee, but mostly he was confused because Dee looked different.

He wasn’t cogless for a start.

Optimus didn’t even have the time to wonder how that had happened - though his processor fleetingly recalled a conversation they had about replicating transformation technology - before his attention had been pulled towards Starscream.

Each time Dee’s optics would wander away from Starscream, the older mech would look at him with such affection that Optimus wanted to tear his helm from his frame.

But no, it was a different kind of affection.

It was one he had never really known. Cogless bots had grown up in the cold and dark of the mines, but Optimus recognized this affection from other mechs that had had the privilege of not being cogless.

It was the affection of a sire for their sparkling.

I know you.

It is the first thought in her mind as soon as their eyes meet.

After all these years, Caitlyn Kiramman remembers the girl who lost her sister.

It was the day she lost Jayce too.

In some sick way, they were both intertwined. 

Both haunted by the death of those they loved.

Both victims to an accident that will mark the history of Zaun and Piltover.

Both cities may have peace, but did it have to be ushered in by the death of a child?

Did this girl have to lose her sister and Caitlyn her brother?

An empty look passes the girl’s eyes, then she disappears among the crowd. A shadow of the past, best left there.

Caitlyn was haunted enough by Jayce’s ghost as it is.

She didn’t want to be here. She had never been an inventor, though she enjoyed her talks with Jayce who had been brilliant. 

A light that never should have dimmed. 

No, Caitlyn did not want to be here.

But her mother had insisted.

Caitlyn sighed, resting her head in her hand as she leaned back against the chair. Of course, she ensured her posture was proper and that she did not look bored. 

She wouldn’t want anyone to think she didn’t want to be here.

It upset her really, to be here. 

The Innovators Competition.

After Jayce’s death, her family had sponsored another student - someone who, in her father’s words, “would not kill their daughter in an explosion.”

Her mother must be with their new protege now.

She wondered what her life would have been like if Jayce hadn’t…

She should have been there for him. 

He would have shown everyone here that he was the best inventor that both Piltover and Zaun would ever know.

But he wasn’t here.

He would never get the chance to be an inventor.

He would never get the chance to grow old.

Caitlyn hated it here.

She should have stayed at the Piltover Police Department, going through boring files.

If she had, then she wouldn’t be thinking about—

“Cupcake?”

Caitlyn startles, her eyes turning to an attendant that had snuck up on her. 

“What?”

The attendant gestures to the serving plate in their hands, filled with sweet delicacies.

“Oh, no thank you.” She forces a smile on her face and waves the attendant off.

She sighs. 

That was a mistake.

In his many cycles as Commander of the High Guard, Starscream has had to deal with many issues.

He had handled traitors and defectors.

He had handled wars.

He had handled the worst of the thirteen Primes.

He had kept those under his command alive on the surface for fifty cycles after their self-exile from Iacon.

He had - though with the help of the Autobots and the Prime - stopped the fighting between Cybertronians and the Quintessons.

Somehow, all of those pale in comparison to his current dilemma.

“Megatron… your visits are always welcome… but, please explain, who is that?”

Honestly, it was as though the universe itself had conspired to give him a sparkling on top of his duties as a Commander.

But Megatron was not a sparkling.

Though his choices at times really made Starscream consider whether the mech had hit his helm too many times during his period as a miner.

Starscream let out a vent as he approached the white-framed mech who struggled to hold an unconscious Prime. Megatron had slung one of the Prime’s arms over his shoulder pad, a servo gripping at the other mech’s waist to keep him from collapsing.

“Did you send him through a space bridge?”

Another thing about Megatron that reminded Starscream of a sparkling is the blatant disrespect he usually showed his elders.

Trying to keep his processor from overheating as his question was left unanswered, Starscream chose to give the younger mech his response. “No. The Prime must have used the space bridge himself, though why he wanted to go off world is beyond me.”

Megatron’s blue optics flickered towards the unconscious mech, “I found him on a desolate planet.”

“You couldn’t have left him there? He could return to Iacon on his own.” Starscream tried not to roll his optics, it was unbecoming - even if he at times wanted to show the same level of attitude that Megatron showed him.

“He looked injured and…” The white mech bit his bottom derma, gesturing with his free servo at the Prime. “His paint, it’s different. I don’t see the crack in the headlights either.”

“He got a repaint and new repairs, so what?” He knew where this conversation was going.

When he had agreed to let Megatron go off world after they had defeated the Quintessons, he thought the ache in his processor would finally go away. Somehow, the young mech has found new ways to give Starscream a sparkattack.

“I was hoping you could spare some medical supplies… just until he onlines again.” Megatron’s voice was low, vocoder straining with the weight of his words. “I would have taken him to Iacon but…”

“They’ll kill you on the spot, I know.” Starscream shook his helm, gesturing for Megatron to enter the Decepticon base. “We will give him medical assistance, then we need to remove him from the base for the safety of everyone.”

He shouldn’t be allowing this.

Megatron was lucky that Starscream had quite the softspark for him.

—

“Negative: Nope.”

“Soundwave, what do you mean ‘nope’?!”

“Repeat: this is not Optimus Prime. My cameras don’t lie, Starscream. Prime’s still in Iacon plotting his next evil move.” Soundwave shrugged his shoulder pads, relaxed despite the strange situation. He turned to look over at the unconscious mech currently restrained on the medical berth.

He had to say, the blue was definitely a better color on him than the purple.

Oh right, Starscream wanted him to focus.

“Declaration: Whoever Megs picked up, this is not the Prime we know.” He thought about it more. “Question: Hey, you think the Prime has a twin or something?”

“As if one Prime isn’t bad enough.” Starscream grumbled, placing a servo on the medical berth. His blue optics were closed tight, and from where Soundwave stood, he could almost hear the cogs turning in the other mech’s processor.

“Joke: Calm down, we wouldn’t want you to get checked over by the medics either.” Soundwave let out a small laugh, which earned him a glare from Starscream. “Suggestion: We wait until this mech’s awake and ask him who he is.”

“That’s precisely what we’ll do. We’ll need to keep him restrained until we can determine his threat level. I’ll assign a member to watch over him. Until then…” Underneath the visor, Soundwave’s optics followed as Starscream began to pace the length of the medical bay. “Where’s Megatron?”

“Answer: Outside. You told him he wasn’t allowed to come in until you gave the order.” Honestly, he found it adorable how protective Starscream was over the younger mech. Unbeknownst to his commander, Soundwave kept a lot of videos of the two’s interactions. If Starscream wasn’t going to save the memories, then Soundwave would. “Suggestion: Maybe stop being overprotective. Megs can handle himself.”

“I am not overprotective!” He could almost see the smoke rising from Starscream’s helm. “I just think he should stay away from Primes considering his past relationship with one!”

“Answer: Whatever you say, commander.” He moved past Starscream, reaching for the door button, the door panels sliding open immediately.

He dodged just in time to avoid the incoming collision.

As predicted, Megs toppled over to the ground.

Soundwave knew the younger mech would have been leaning against the door. He took great pride in knowing that Megs took an interest in surveillance.

Shame he chose to go off world, Soundwave would have liked to take on another apprentice.

“I volunteer! I brought him here so I can keep guard.”

“No.”

Soundwave turned his visor back to Starscream.

“Recall: My suggestion.”

“Soundwave, I am not listening to your suggestion.”

Megatron stood back up on his pedes, his blue optics wide with determination.

“Commander Starscream.”

That caught both their attention.

Soundwave was surprised. He never thought he’d hear Megatron address Starscream like that.

“He’s my responsibility, and I’m the one who asked the High Guard for this favor.” The young mech placed a servo on his chassis, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I will keep watch.”

—

When was the last time he had watched Pax in recharge?

That felt like another lifetime ago.

Megatron rested his helm on the medical berth.

This close, he could brush a servo against Pax’s face.

In recharge, he could almost pretend this was Pax.

Deep in his spark, he knew that mech was long gone.

But… this wasn’t Optimus Prime.

He had heard everything between Soundwave and Starscream.

The real Prime was in Iacon.

So who was this?

Megatron closed his optics, recalling the memory of when he’d first encountered the strange mech.

He didn’t know how far he had been from Cybertron.

He never really charted down the planets he had visited or the stars he had encountered.

Megatron had only wanted to spend his cycles off world, far from the conflict that plagued Cybertron.

Far from Optimus Prime.

Far from the mech he once loved.

It was selfish, but Pax would have encouraged that.

All he had ever wanted was to go off world.

So, after he had replicated transformation technology…

After he had gained his flying-alt… 

After the war with the Quintessons… he did.

He had seen many strange sights on his travels, finding remnants of the thirteen Primes’ war with other civilizations.

Occasionally, he would return to Cybertron to visit the High Guard and restock on energon, but most of the time he was off world.

On this particular journey, he had stumbled upon a desolate planet with a space bridge. A remnant of some forgotten war between Cybertronians and what lifeform had once existed there.

Megatron had taken a moment to rest, leaning his backplate against the space bridge. It was then that he realized that the metal was hot, as though it had been recently used. He had scoured the nearby area and found the unconscious mech.

He had been terrified at first, as the mech looked like Prime, just in blue.

Then he took in the extent of the damage on the other mech’s frame, feeling a spark of pity.

He used to love him.

He had known that Starscream wouldn’t turn him away if he asked for a favor.

And he wasn’t about to let Optimus die on a desolate planet by himself.

Megatron had carried the unconscious mech over to the space bridge, typing out the coordinates for the nearest one to the Decepticon base.

And now they were both here.

Was this a punishment from Primus? It wouldn’t surprise him if it was since the god seemed to really despise him and only him.

If Starscream hadn’t reacted to the other mech’s presence, Megatron would have thought he was being haunted by a ghost.

Though, why the ghost was blue instead of purple, he didn’t know.

Giving in to the urge, he brushed a servo against the other mech’s faceplate.

“Who are you?”

As soon as his digits brushed against the metal, the mech’s optics flew open.

Two pairs of blue optics stared at one another.

Then they both screamed.

—

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, bossbot. I saw it with my own optics, D-16 came out of the space bridge with an injured mech. I was unable to get close enough but the mech didn’t appear to be anyone from the High Guard.” He could hear the disinterest in Bee’s voice, but Optimus deigned to ignore it. “Must have found an off worlder mech. Didn’t know those existed.”

“Hm.”

It was a good enough dismissal.

He heard the other mech’s fading steps behind him, the door panels shutting open and close as he was left alone in his quarters once more.

After the war with the Quintessons, the strained truce between Iacon and the banished High Guard inevitably snapped.

He acknowledged that the Quintessons were the greater threat, but Optimus Prime would not allow the High Guard to continue existing after the crimes they had committed against Cybertronians and for daring to question his authority as Prime.

For selfish reasons, he couldn’t let the High Guard exist after they had stolen his conjunx from him.

The civil war continues on, and he won’t stop until he has the helm of every High Guard member displayed on a pike for all Cybertronians to see.

And not until he gets his conjunx back.

Optimus should thank that offworlder once he formally meets them. After all, they had unknowingly brought Dee back to Cybertron.

Knowing Dee and his softspark tendencies, he would stay on Cybertron until the mech was fully recovered, which gave Optimus more time to capture his conjunx.

He had nearly stormed the High Guard base himself when he had heard the circulated rumors that Dee had gone off world.

Optimus hadn’t believed it at first.

Dee was not a selfish mech.

While he had told him, back when Optimus was still Orion Pax, that his hope was to go off world and see the stars, Dee had brushed it off as nothing more than a dream. 

They were miners, they couldn’t have dreams.

Pax had felt sorry for him.

Then he was angry on his behalf.

Still, Optimus didn’t think Dee would ever try to achieve his dream.

Such a selfless mech.

Then the civil war waged on, and Optimus realized that he hadn’t seen Dee in several astroweeks.

He had sent some surveillance mechs over to the Decepticon base.

The rumors were true.

Dee had left Cybertron.

Had left him.

But that didn’t matter.

His conjunx had come back. 

Not for him, but he knew a good opportunity when he saw one.

Once he had Dee back, well, it wouldn’t be a good reunion.

For one, Optimus would have to snap those blue wings in half.

He couldn’t have his conjunx flying off without him.

He won’t take much pleasure from grounding his conjunx, but that should send a message through Dee’s thick helm that he could never leave his Prime.

Optimus would grant him the right to fly once Dee proved himself loyal.

Now…