Veritas Aequitas

"You flare, you flicker, you fade. And in the end, all your tomorrows become yesterdays," the young poet recited, waiting for a response from his friend. The miner was silent, his golden optics fixed on the table where his servos were clenched in front of him. A rush of uncertainty began to rise up within the poet's core, causing him to cast his own magenta optics downward. What if Impactor didn't like his new poem? What if the mech was so offended by it that he refused to see him again? Panic began to well up inside of him, causing his rare green spark to pulse faster.

"What do you call it?" Impactor growled, his back rigid.

"I… It's called 'Afterlight.' I know it's short, but I couldn't bring myself to expand upon it," the poet replied, chancing a quick glance at the much larger mech across from him. He still seemed… upset.

"You wrote it for HIM, didn't you." It was not a question.

The poet drew in a startled breath, but nodded in agreement. "Yes. After I heard about Terminus' death, I had to do something…" The lithe mech sighed, rubbing his forehead to ward off a headache. "I… Impactor, I am a poet. I'm not strong, like you are. I'm a pacifist who fights against the council using poetry — and even then, I write using a pseudonym. I want to change the world, but how can I? This poem isn't worth one single moment of Terminus' life, yet it speaks to my core when I think of him."

"Veritas…" Impactor began, the tension easy out of his frame. He reached out a hand across the table toward the purple-armored poet.

"No! You're right. These are just words on a page. They're not worth anything. They're a coward's way of fighting." The smaller mech clutched the datapad in his slim servos, attempting to crack it in half.

"Veritas. Stop that," Impactor demanded, but his words were softened by a smile, and a gentle hand on his friend's own. The other mech's ivory face was slack jawed for a moment, clearly startled by his words.

"But… but Terminus is dead, and I can't do anything…" the poet whispered, his vents hitching in distress. His shoulders trembled even as the miner pulled back his servos, got up from his seat, and proceeded to slip into the booth next to him. A firm arm wrapped around his shoulders, allowing Impactor to pull him close.

"There was nothing you could have done. He was buried in a mining accident on Messatine. You were on Cybertron at the time," Impactor stated calmly, rubbing his friend's shoulder.

"But… but I should have worked harder to change things. If I had been willing to use my real name, rather than hiding under the guise of 'Aequitas,' then perhaps…" the poet trailed off, sinking closer to the warmth generated by his friend's larger body.

"You said it yourself, you're a poet. If you hadn't accidently ended up on the wrong flight, you never would have met either of us. In fact, I think you might be the only poet who has even entered a mine," Impactor laughed.

"That's true. The Senate certainly would not have approved of my friendship with either of you, or the political shift in my writing since," Veritas sighed, pressing his cheek against the larger mech's side. His magenta optics began to flicker as he inwardly struggled to stay awake.

"Hey, Veri…"

"Hm?"

"Your poem — Afterlight. I liked it. It was short, strong, and to the point. Your best poem yet, if I'm any judge on the subject," the miner said, reaching for his drink, and dragging it close. The cute little mech at his side smiled in response, and his engine began to purr lazily.

"I'm glad you liked it," the poet whispered, even as he slipped into recharge.

Impactor sipped his high grade calmly, and if there was a tender smile on his lips, no one would have been stupid enough to mention it.

"You're so adorable in this universe," Rodimus whisper-shrieked, even as he grinned at his co-captain across the table.

"So it seems," Megatron sighed, glancing at the pair in the window booth. Impactor looked as ruggedly handsome as Megatron remembered, but the mech at his side was definitely a new face. So… that was what he would have looked like if Whirl hadn't shoved his spark into a miner's body. Curious. It was a relief to know that he wasn't the Senate's little pet, despite being raised in high class society. He'd even managed to befriend both Impactor and Terminus, if they'd overheard the details correctly.

"I have no doubt that your other self will get along well with Orion Pax. Perhaps they will find a way to change the government without resorting to war," stated Magnus.

"Perhaps. We shall have to wait and see," said Megatron.

"You're not even going to talk to them?" Rodimus asked, giving his co-captain his best pleading look.

"It would not be an appropriate time. They are both clearly in mourning," the former Decepticon leader stated, even as his gaze drifted back to the table where his counterpart was practically snuggled against Impactor's side. A hint of a smile crossed his lips as he recalled his relationship with the other miner long before the war began. Perhaps there was some hope for these two, after all.

Veritas (Latin): Truth

Aequitas (Latin): Justice & equality

Veritas is: A slender poet, clad in purple armor. Undertones of ivory and black. Ivory faceplates, magenta optics (lighter than Megatron's crimson ones), and swirled magenta markings (lights) on either side of his chest (think both Rung and IDW Megatron here). A similar body-type to Rung, as a non-combatant, but taller. His helm comes up to just above Impactor's elbows. Yeah, he's a tiny guy, in comparison, and Impactor (while interested) would be concerned about hurting him if their relationship eventually went in a romantic direction. And, wink, we all know it will.