Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The war was over.

Cybertron, once a thriving world of towering spires and bustling cities, now lay in ruins—a graveyard of rusted metal and fractured dreams. Firestar trudged through the desolate landscape, her optics scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. It had been cycles since the Great War ended, yet she found herself unable to settle into peace. The scars of battle lingered not just on her frame, but deep within her spark.

Patrolling these abandoned sectors had become her routine, almost a penance. She told herself it was to ensure no lingering threats remained, but deep down, she knew it was something more. In the silence of the wasteland, she could confront the ghosts that haunted her—the faces of comrades lost, the weight of decisions made in desperation. Here, among the echoes of destruction, she felt closer to them somehow.

Her pedes crunched against the brittle ground as she approached what used to be Kaon, once Megatron's stronghold. Now, it was little more than crumbling ruins, its jagged towers jutting out like broken teeth against the gray sky. As she moved through the skeletal remains of the city, her sensors picked up faint energy readings—barely noticeable, but enough to pique her curiosity.

"Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the unease prickling at her circuits. Her hand instinctively hovered near her blaster, though she doubted anyone—or anything—would answer.

A low chuckle echoed from the shadows, sending a chill down her spinal struts. "An Autobot," came the familiar baritone, cold and cutting as ever. "How predictable."

Firestar froze, her optics narrowing as the figure stepped into view. Clad in tarnished silver armor, his once-mighty frame now gaunt and weathered, stood Megatron. His crimson optics glowed faintly, like embers smoldering in the aftermath of a firestorm. He looked at her with detached appraisal, as if sizing up an old enemy he barely remembered.

"You know who I am?," she asked, lowering her weapon slightly. Her tone was calm, almost neutral, betraying the emotions swirling inside her.

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment before dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "It matters not who you are. You're just another reminder of everything I've lost." His voice carried a bitter edge, sharp enough to cut through steel.

She didn't respond, choosing instead to remain silent as her digits started fiddling together, a sign of lingering nervousness. Something about him—the weariness in his posture, the hollow emptiness in his optics—kept her rooted to the spot. This wasn't the Megatron she'd fought during the war. This was a mech broken by his own choices, drowning in regret and self-imposed exile.

"Why are you here, femme?" he asked finally, his tone laced with disdain. "Come to gloat? To see how far I've fallen?"

"No," she replied simply, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a step closer, her gaze unsure yet unwavering. "I'm here because... this place calls to me too."

His optics flared briefly, caught off guard by her admission. For a moment, he seemed unsure how to respond. Then, with a scoff, he turned away, pacing slowly among the ruins. "This place is nothing but death and decay," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "A fitting end for someone like me and hardly a place for a femme like you."

Firestar flinched at his words but chose to remain still, watching him silently, letting him vent without interruption. There was a raw vulnerability in his words, a crack in the armor he'd worn for so long. She could feel the weight of his pain radiating off him like heat from a dying star.

"I built this empire," he continued, his voice rising slightly. "I dreamed of a new Cybertron, free from oppression, where strength would define us all. And look what became of it!" He gestured angrily at the crumbling structures around them. "All I left behind was ruin. Ruin and hatred."

Still, she said nothing, allowing him to pour out his anguish. She understood the power of silence, the way it could create space for truths too painful to speak aloud. In that quiet, she saw glimpses of the mech he might have been—the idealist, the dreamer, the leader who had once inspired others to follow him.

"When I started this war," he went on, his voice trembling with emotion, "I thought I was fighting for justice. For equality. But somewhere along the way..." He paused, his fists clenching tightly as if trying to hold onto the fragments of his shattered ideals. "...somewhere along the way, I became the very thing I swore to destroy. A tyrant. A monster."

His words hung heavy in the air, each one weighted with years of guilt and remorse. Firestar listened intently, her spark aching for the mech who had once been so full of conviction. A small part of her wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but she knew better. Words wouldn’t heal wounds this deep. Only time—and perhaps forgiveness—could do that.

"And now?" she asked gently, breaking the silence. "What do you fight for now?"

He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Nothing," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "There's nothing left to fight for. No cause worth pursuing. No future worth building. Just... this." He gestured vaguely at the ruins surrounding them, his optics dimming as if resigning himself to their permanence.

Firestar felt a pang of sorrow for him, a sadness that went beyond pity. She had seen countless lives destroyed by the war, but witnessing the fall of someone who had once been so powerful struck a chord deep within her. It reminded her of her own struggles—the nights spent questioning whether she had done enough, whether she could have saved more lives, whether the sacrifices had truly been worth it.

"You're wrong," she said after a long pause, her voice firm yet gentle. "About this place. About yourself."

He raised an optic ridge, skepticism etched into every line of his faceplate. "Enlighten me."

"This isn't just ruin," she explained, gesturing to the crumbling buildings around them. "These walls hold memories. Stories. Pain, yes, but also hope. Every scar tells a story of survival. Of resilience. Even in the darkest moments, there's always a chance to rebuild."

He stared at her, his crimson optics flickering with uncertainty. For the first time, she saw a flicker of doubt in his otherwise impenetrable demeanor. "Rebuild?" he repeated, the word tasting foreign on his glossa. "After everything I've done? After all the lives I've destroyed? You're a fool."

She nodded, taking a cautious step closer. "A fool I may be then, since redemption isn't about erasing the past. It's about learning from it. Growing from it. You can't undo what's been done, but you can choose what happens next."

Her words hung between them, fragile and tentative, like a bridge spanning an abyss. Megatron looked away, his jaw tightening as if wrestling with thoughts too complex to articulate. Finally, he let out a weary sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of unspoken burdens.

"You speak as if it is some easy feat," he murmured, his voice tinged with bitterness. "As if I can just walk away from everything I've done and start anew. It isn't that simple. The things I've done... they define me. They haunt me. I... I don't deserve a second chance."

Firestar hesitated, searching for the right words. She wanted to tell him that everyone deserved a second chance, that forgiveness wasn’t about deserving—it was about possibility. But she knew such platitudes wouldn’t resonate with him. She knew that reality said otherwise and that a mech like him was far from redemption.

"Maybe you're right," she admitted, her voice soft but steady. "Maybe you don't deserve it. But maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe what matters is that you want it. That you're willing to try. To change. That's where hope begins—not in perfection, but in effort."

They stood there in silence, the weight of her words settling between them like dust settling after a storm. Megatron’s optics dimmed further, his gaze fixed on the cracked pavement beneath his pedes. For the first time in vorns, he allowed himself to entertain the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn’t beyond saving.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And you tell me this because...? Why would an Autobot give a damn what happens to me?"

She hesitated, unsure how to answer. The truth was, she didn’t fully understand it herself. All she knew was that standing here, listening to him bare his soul, she felt a connection—an undeniable thread linking their sparks, forged in shared suffering and mutual understanding.

"Because I’ve seen enough loss," she said finally, her voice trembling slightly. "Because I know what it feels like to carry the weight of the past. And because... because I believe even the hardest sparks can find peace. If they’re willing to look for it."

Their gazes met again, and for a fleeting moment, something unspoken passed between them. A connection forged in shared sorrow, in the acknowledgment of pain and loss. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. Yet in that silence, they understood each other in ways words never could.

Without another word, Firestar transformed into her alt mode, the roar of her engines shattering the stillness. As she sped away, leaving Megatron standing alone amidst the ruins, she couldn't shake the feeling that their encounter had changed something within her. Something profound.

Behind her, Megatron watched her departure, his crimson optics glowing faintly in the fading light. He didn't call out to stop her, didn't try to follow. Instead, he stood there, letting her words sink in. For the first time in vorns, he felt... less alone.

As the distance between them grew, left a mech and a femme grappling with a connection undeniable yet forlorn all the same. It wasn't friendship, nor was it trust—not yet, anyway. But it was something. A fragile thread woven from empathy and understanding, stretching across the chasm of their pasts.

And perhaps, just perhaps, it was enough to begin anew.

Chapter Text

The days that followed Firestar's encounter with Megatron were restless, dragging on longer than the last. She found herself replaying their conversation over and over in her processor, dissecting every word, every pause, every flicker of emotion in his crimson optics. It wasn’t just the memory of him that haunted her—it was the connection they had forged, as fragile as it was. A bond born not of shared ideals or camaraderie, but of pain, regret, and the unspoken understanding that neither of them had truly escaped the war unscathed.

As she patrolled the desolate sectors of Cybertron, her mind wandered constantly to Kaon. To him. She wondered what he was doing now, whether her words had resonated with him or if he had dismissed them as meaningless platitudes. Part of her wanted to believe that their meeting had sparked something—a shift, however small, in the hardened mech who had once been her greatest enemy. But another part of her—the rational, cautious part—knew better than to hope too much. Megatron was unpredictable, volatile, and deeply entrenched in his own despair. One conversation wouldn’t undo a lifetime of pain.

Still, the pull was undeniable. Every patrol route seemed to veer dangerously close to Kaon without her realizing it. Her pedes carried her there instinctively, as if drawn by some invisible force. Each time, she forced herself to turn away, reminding herself of the risks—not just to herself, but to the fragile peace that Cybertron held onto.

Though tonight… tonight felt different.

The stars above were unusually bright, casting an eerie glow over the ruins. Firestar stood at the edge of a crumbling highway, staring into the distance where Kaon loomed in the shadows, dark and gray. Her spark thudded faster by the second, torn between duty and desire. She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself, but the urge to return—to see him again—was overwhelming.

Why? She asked herself, frustration bubbling within. Why did this matter so much? He was a relic of a bygone era, a symbol of everything she had fought against. And yet… he was suddenly more than that. Beneath the tarnished armor and weary frame lay a spark burdened by guilt and loss, one that mirrored her own in ways she couldn’t ignore.

“Stop,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head sharply. “Just stop.”

With a heavy sigh, she transformed into her alt mode and sped off in the opposite direction, determined to keep her focus on the mission. Routine patrols kept her grounded, gave her purpose when the weight of the past threatened to overwhelm her. Yet even as she roamed the barren landscapes, her thoughts drifted relentlessly back to the mech she once swore to hate.

---

Hours later, Firestar returned to Iacon, the provisional capital of the newly unified Cybertron. The city was slowly being rebuilt, its once-shattered skyline now dotted with gleaming spires and humming energy conduits. It was a testament to resilience, a beacon of hope for a future free from conflict. But as she walked through the bustling streets, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dissonance. While others celebrated progress, she felt adrift, caught between two worlds—one clinging to the ashes of the past, the other striving toward an uncertain future.

Her steps eventually led her to the command center, where Ultra Magnus awaited her report. The Autobot commander stood tall and imposing, his armor polished to perfection despite the wear and tear of countless battles. His stern expression softened slightly as she approached, though his tone remained formal.

“Report,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chassis. “Anything unusual during your patrol?”

Firestar hesitated, her vocalizer faltering for half a klik before she managed to respond. Even then, she struggled to form a sentence coherently, “Nothing... significant, sir. Just... the usual signs of decay. No... um, active threats... detected.”

Magnus studied her closely, his sharp optics narrowing ever so slightly at her behaviour. “You seem distracted, Firestar. Is something troubling you?”

She stiffened, her servos twitching involuntarily. Magnus had always been perceptive, his ability to read others honed by years of leadership. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. “No... Not at all, sir. Everything’s... fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide—for now. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his tone taking on a note of warning. “Remember your orders, soldier. If you encounter any Decepticon activity—or anyone who poses a potential threat—you are to report it immediately. We cannot afford complacency, not while our rebuilding efforts are still vulnerable.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied automatically, her optics dropping to the floor. The weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders. Reporting Megatron would mean exposing him to scrutiny, possibly even hostility. Could she really do that to him after everything he’d already endured?

Magnus must have noticed her unease because he added, more gently this time, “I know the war left scars on all of us, Firestar. But we have a responsibility to protect what remains of our home. Trust is earned, not given. Especially when it comes to former enemies.”

Her spark ached at the truth in his words. Magnus wasn’t wrong—Megatron had been responsible for untold suffering, and trusting him again would be reckless. But the thought of turning him in, of betraying the fragile connection they had formed, filled her with a deep sense of unease.

“I understand, sir,” she said finally, forcing a neutral expression onto her faceplate. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Satisfied, Magnus nodded and dismissed her. As she turned to leave, however, his voice stopped her mid-step.

“One more thing,” he called after her. “Bottling up emotions only leads to mistakes. Mistakes we cannot afford right now. If you're dealing with something... Talk to someone.”

She glanced back at him, surprised by the rare display of concern. His optics glanced down at the ground and she could tell he had dealt with demons of his own too. "Take it from a bot who knows."

Firestar shifted slightly, hearing the hurt in his own words. She nodded and softly replied, “Thank you, sir. I’ll… consider it.”

With that, she exited the command center, her processors racing. Magnus’s advice echoed in her audios, mingling with the persistent tug toward Kaon. Was she making a mistake by considering returning to Megatron? Or was she simply clinging to the possibility of redemption—for both of them?

---

That night, as the city fell silent and the stars twinkled overhead, Firestar found herself standing once again at the outskirts of Iacon. Her resolve wavered like heat waves rising from scorched metal. Duty demanded that she stay, to honor the sacrifices made by those who had believed in a better future. But her spark yearned for something else—for closure, for understanding, for a chance to help someone who might otherwise be lost forever.

She tried to reason with herself. Returning to Kaon would be reckless, and what more could she possibly achieve by seeking him out again? Would he even want to see her? Or would he dismiss her as foolishly sentimental, wasting her time on a mech who had long since abandoned hope?

And then there was the matter of trust. If anyone discovered that she had knowingly interacted with Megatron—and worse, that she had chosen not to report him—it could jeopardize everything. The fragile unity between Autobots and former Decepticons was tenuous at best. Any hint of betrayal, no matter how small, could shatter it entirely.

Yet, despite all these logical arguments, her spark refused to relent. It whispered to her in quiet tones, urging her to follow the path her instincts had laid out. To take a risk. To reach out, even if it meant risking rejection—or worse.

Finally, unable to bear the internal struggle any longer, she made her decision. Transforming back into her alt mode, she revved her engines and sped off into the darkness, heading straight for Kaon.

This time, she wouldn’t turn back.

---

The journey to Kaon felt both endless and fleeting, each passing klik stretching her nerves taut. As the ruins came into view, jagged silhouettes cutting harshly against the starlit sky, her spark quickened with anticipation. She slowed her pace as she entered the desolate city, her sensors scanning for any sign of movement. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional groan of shifting metal as the ancient structures settled further into decay.

Her optics adjusted to the dim light, searching for the familiar figure she had left behind. For a moment, doubt crept in. What if he wasn’t here? What if he had moved on, leaving her to wander aimlessly among the ruins?

But then, she saw him.

Megatron stood atop a collapsed tower, his tarnished frame illuminated faintly by the pale moonlight. He hadn’t noticed her arrival, his attention seemingly fixed on the horizon. His posture was rigid, almost statuesque, as if frozen in thought.

Firestar hesitated, unsure how to approach him. Her engine idled quietly, the sound barely audible over the wind. Finally, gathering her courage, she transformed and stepped forward.

“Megatron,” she called softly, her voice carrying just enough to reach him.

His reaction was immediate—and explosive. In an instant, his blaster was drawn, its barrel aimed directly at her faceplate. His crimson optics burned with a mixture of anger, suspicion, and something darker—something primal.

Firestar almost felt her spark drop. Was this it? After everything she had fought for, believed in and hoped for, was this the end that awaited her? Her breath hitched and she couldn't help but tremble as his blaster edged closer to her.

“You dare return?” he snarled, his voice low and venomous. “After all I’ve done, you think you can simply waltz back here without consequence?”

Firestar froze, her systems screaming at her to retreat, to raise her own weapon in defense. But instead, she stood taller, her optics blazing with defiance. Something within her, a side she herself rarely even saw, refused to back down, even as the muzzle of his blaster hovered inches from her chest plating.

“I'm not here to fight you, Megatron,” she said firmly, her voice unwavering despite the tension crackling between them. “I came... because I chose to. Because I believed that it... that it mattered.”

His grip tightened on the blaster, his frame trembling with barely contained fury. “Believed what mattered? That you could save me? That you could fix what’s broken?" He tilted his helm as if studying her, trying to gauge what she was thinking. Unable to do so, he scowled and glared daggers into her optics, "You’re an even bigger fool than I gave you credit for. A naïve, idealistic fool.”

For a moment, she thought he might pull the trigger. The air between them was thick with hostility, charged with centuries of enmity and unresolved pain. But Firestar refused to flinch. Instead, she took a deliberate step closer, closing the gap between them until the tip of his blaster pressed lightly against her armor.

“So be it... Maybe I am a fool.” she said, her voice calm but resolute. “But I won’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself. Not when I know there’s still something worth saving.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Megatron’s optics flickered, uncertainty creeping into their crimson depths. His servos twitched, the blaster wavering slightly in his grasp as he let out a bitter laugh.

“You don’t know me,” he growled, though the edge in his voice had dulled. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’m capable of.”

“No,” she admitted, her gaze never faltering. “I don’t. But I know what you could be. And... however foolish that may be... It's enough for me.”

Something shifted in his expression, a crack forming in the wall he had built around himself. His blaster lowered fractionally, then fully, until it hung limply at his side. He stared at her, his optics searching hers for answers to questions he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—voice.

Finally, he spoke, his tone quieter, almost hesitant. “Why risk yourself for me?”

She tilted her head, her optics softening. “Because everyone deserves a chance to find peace. Even you.”

The weight of her words settled between them, filling the silence with a fragile understanding. Slowly, Megatron turned away, his shoulders sagging as if releasing a burden he had carried for far too long. He holstered his blaster and gazed out over the ruins, his crimson optics dimming.

“Peace,” he murmured bitterly. “A concept I scarcely recognize anymore.”

Firestar moved to stand beside him, careful to maintain a respectful distance. Together, they gazed out over the ruins, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them like a physical force.

“It’s not too late,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the wind. “I know you know this."

He glanced at her sidelong, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might dismiss her outright. But then, to her surprise, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his tone laced with uncertainty. “But do not expect sentimentality from me, femme. Unlike your fellow Autobots, I have no patience for soft words and hollow promises.” He said with a tinge of bitterness.

“I'd expect nothing less.” Their gazes then met once more, and in that moment, something shifted between them. An unspoken agreement, a tentative alliance forged in the ashes of their pasts. And perhaps... something more.

Neither of them knew what the future held, but for the first time in vorns, they both silently dared to hope. And in that hope, they had found strength.