Chapter Text
Megatron awoke at exactly five-fifteen, EDT, every morning. It was built into his systems, without need for internal alarms, regardless of his surroundings. It was also a coincidence, in so much as it related to cycles of time on that rock he had been stuck on. His first onlining was burned into his mind, bringing him to wakefulness with perfect accuracy from that point on. The permanency of Cybertron's sunless days had little affect on him. The Constructicons had began their shifts in the dark, too, and he had been expected to come along (until the day he had decided he had had enough). If someone had pointed out how the Autobots had seemingly changed their schedules to those of the humans to him, he might have expected what happened next. He went to leave the room and found the door soundly locked.
"Prime!" He shouted, banging his fist against the door once, twice, three times -
The door opened, and Optimus stood there, surprised. "I didn't think you'd be up this early."
"Why wouldn't I be up this early?" He demanded before shouldering past him. As he did, he spat out one other word: "Shockwave."
Optimus turned to follow him. "There's fuel on the table if - "
"Shockwave," he said again, expression unchanging from what could only be described as angry expectancy.
Optimus led him to the communications HUB. It seemed Megatron had decided he didn't merit anything beyond one-word responses, at least until he had contacted his scientist. For a klik or two, as he circled back around to the kitchen to give Megatron space, he half-thought the Decepticon might end up speaking to him not at all. But watching the other access the unlocked HUB, plating already flared and glaring down at the keys, he doubted it. Megatron had not been made to be quiet.
"Lord Megatron!"
Viscerally aware of the Autobot standing just a few strides away, he shifted to block sight of the screen. "Shockwave. We missed our last scheduled call. It's been a while since we've talked."
"I - "
"Who's on the HUB?"
Shockwave stiffened, and then a light green figured appeared over his shoulder. He turned to push her away, swinging his limbless arm at her without thought, but she danced out of reach with a quick, "sorry!"
"Don't interfere," he ordered.
She fixed him with an even, cool look. "Calls have to be monitored."
"You can keep your distance, at least."
Moonracer shrugged, took three steps back and sunk onto the couch. An irritated "Shockwave!" brought his attention back around before he could argue otherwise. "Apologies, Lord Megatron - "
"What in Cybertron's name is wrong with your arm?"
"The... Autobots... removed my gun while I was in stasis. A replacement is being created as we speak." Or so I've been told.
For a long moment, Megatron said nothing. "They took off your arm."
"Affirmative."
He half expected an explosion of anger, but the moment passed. "How have you been treated since you've woken?"
The words came out somewhat stiffly, as if he dearly wanted to say something else. Shockwave nodded and began his report, cloaked in casual observations and barbed complaints. The Autobots no doubt recognized the attempt at duplicity, but it was groundwork for later information passing. At least, the ex-steward assumed it was, but once he was done he couldn't help but blurt out a slightly desperate, "one of the femmes said you would be rooming with the Prime. Is this true?"
Megtron scowled. "Who said this?"
"Moonracer."
His lord shifted slightly to the side, allowing him a glimpse of red and blue plating. "I see."
"Can I assume you aren't alone with this Moonracer?"
"That's correct. Lancer and Greenlight are also here, although they are preoccupied at the moment." He suspected they had something in their room they were working on, and given that Lancer had tended to steal his many chemicals, mineral compounds, and experimental serums, he expected it was most likely related to scientific pursuits.
"The scientists."
"Yes." Megatron's attention had turned inward, and he knew the call would end.
Sure enough, his leader said, "there are others I must attend to. I'll contact you again at a later date," and the screen went black. His swallowed down his response and turned away to find Moonracer gone.
Megatron said, "so," and Optimus looked up from his still-full cube. "Cutting off limbs, Prime?"
"It was detached, not cut off. You know the difference. And Ratchet is working on building him a new arm."
"Interesting how agency stops being quite as important when it comes to others."
"This was done as a safety measure only. "
Megatron promptly stole his cube from the table, circling around as he lifted it to drink.
A pink-tinted flash of glass came flying from the right and he pulled hard at the frequency a nanosecond before it shattered across his helm. His right optic stung and he had to stop himself from shuttering it.
Don't move. Call Ratchet.
Just two easy steps.
"Lucky...you..."
"Luck had nothing to do with it. I have no intention of dropping my guard around you."
Megatron scoffed from his place on the floor, barely audible. "Fool."
He clenched his fists and nearly jolted at the reaction. Something had lodged itself in the lense and he could feel it. Ratchet was going to give him an audial full. His fragging optic ;throbbed. "You are making a mistake."
Laughter left his words lodged in his throat. Megatron turned his head to the side, just barely showing a glint of red. "What exactly do you think is going to happen, Prime? That my soldiers are going to leave the last thousand years behind for you and your pitiful promises? You think Starscream is going to let his ambitions die? I expect that's why you left him with that shuttle."
"Skyfire is sharper than you give him credit for. He won't be pulled in by a ruse."
"And Shockwave," his enemy continued. "He would never abandon our cause. What do your kindhave to offer him?"
A life not spent in complete isolation. A way to save our planet. Freedom to do anything he wanted, as long as it wouldn't harm anyone.Responses burned on the tip of his tongue, but he had already spoken in frustration and kept silent. He studied the glow of red on the carpet, watching as energon soaked through the floor until it reached a gray hand.
Something tiny dislodged from his optic and tumbled across the back of his hand. Instantly the ache lessened, leaving behind a mild soreness. Optimus pulled his tattered sense of control back, feeling himself drift back to his center. Despite himself, he hadn't been quite quick enough to avoid the blow.
Megatron twitched when he slid an arm under him, lifting the limp frame up and dragging it to the armchair. Optimus looked up to stare at the panel below the sink. As he watched, a cleaning droid emerged and buzzed quietly across the floor to meet the mess.
Mirage's foresight had saved them all a lot of cleanup.
"I'm surprised you would waste fuel."
Megatron had closed his optics, head tilted back. He looked oddly unlike himself. "It hardly matters now that you can harvest it from the Earth's sun on an efficient level."
"Still. This was not one of your better plans."
Silence reigned, so Optimus shrugged and went to fetch a datapad. Blaster had come across a few old copies of the Failed Orbit trilogy and he had never managed to finish it before. He only barely caught the click of a door closing.
A look at his chronometer revealed a time of 0612.Less than an hour and only an injury so minor his self repair could handle it now that the wound was clear. Technically, this counted as progress. Although he had to admit he hadn't expected Megatron to retreat so quickly...
Abruptly aware that he had the room and therefore the television to himself, he decided to take full advantage and replaced the datapad. Stealing a small snack from his personal storage, he picked up the film Chip had recommended. Careful to keep the volume low, he settled in and kept half his attention on Megatron's door as Tron began. A breem crawled by, then another, until finally he let his attention slide fully away.
As the adventure of Kevin Flynn came to a close, hIs neon painted world fell to the dimly lit corridors of the Nostromo and the oilslick gleam of the parasite alien. He jumped freely around the list of human media their friends had recommended, pausing every now and then to go to the kitchen, standing silently in case he could hear Megatron moving around. After the fifth time he heard nothing and returned, finally, to watch a werewolf wander the streets of London. Hours trailed by and he relaxed deeper into the chair, sipped at his energon and studied the monsters of Earth cinema.
Twenty minutes from eleven and several movies later, Optimus took a sealed cube in one hand and knocked on Megatron's door. He was instantly greeted with the sight that had sent many Decepticons stumbling backward; a Megatron who had found himself interrupted and did not welcome it.
He held out the cube. "It's late and I need to lock your door, so..."
"Really, Prime?"
You have to work to put that much disdain in your voice, he thought. Eager to avoid verbal entanglements, Optimus pushed his hand over the threshold of the door. Megatron appeared to take it as the invasion it was meant to be and snatched the energon from his grasp. He sneered, radiating contempt, but Optimus was determined not to care. He could remain civil, no matter how his ward chose to act.
The door slid shut and his hand flew to the lock. Tension drained from his frame. Recharge, as Ratchet had long since told him, was a reward all on its own.