A/N:

Unbetaed - I'd be very thankful if you pointed out the typos.

Cybetronian time units used:

nanklick - 1 second
klick - 1.2 minutes
breem - 8.3 minutes
orbital (cycle) - 3.8 days (Cybetronian day)
orn - 13 days
quartex - 10 months (Cybetronian week)

All alone

Megatron sat on top of an old lookout tower, staring broodingly into the distance. Below him a hotspot ignited with the brilliant light of sparks; the beginning of a new generation.

His plating itched where Unicron's magic mangled his body, but he tried to ignore it as best as he could. He didn't want to look at himself, the recreated chassis uncomfortable and alien, as if the new plating was too small and didn't fit well.

Unicron ruined everything he touched. Now that the dark god's influence had finally lost its hold on him, the realization hit him like a punch to the faceplates. Meddling with dark energon quickly made itself a place on his list of "Things I regret". Considering his history, it was a surprisingly curt list. You didn't need both hands to count the points on it.

At the edge of the horizon, Luna-1 crawled onto the sky, signaling the beginning of the night cycle. He'll wait for a few breems and go scout for fuel, he decided. The source he found a few orbitals ago was close to running out; one of the several downsides of his transformation was the almost tripled energy consumption, which was an alarming predicament. Raw energon was an inadequate energy source, and he couldn't consume it in big enough quantity to quench this new hunger. He was no stranger to starvation, to nibble on foul tasting energon shards while others celebrated with high grade, but the persistent burnt in his tanks brought back dark memories he'd buried in the back of his processor a long time ago.

He saw an abandoned mine to the far West when he first mapped the area. Maybe he could cobble together a crude energon refinery from the discarded equipment there. Or at least find some additives to make the raw crystals easier to process.

His thoughts were interrupted by the quiet buzz of jet engines. He looked up in alarm, optics widening a fraction when he spotted the familiar, spindly jet just above the tower. He had to hand it to Soundwave that spy model or not, it was impressive that he could sneak up on him like this.

His loyal friend transformed mid-air and dropped down, landing in a clumsy crouch. It brought a small smirk to Megatron's lip components. As graceful as Soundwave was in the air or on the ground, his landings were anything but. Not to mention that awkward little hop he made when he took off; back in their younger years, Megatron never missed the opportunity to tease him about it.

Soundwave slowly approached, the small movement of his head indicating that he took a good look at Megatron's reconstructed frame. The ex-warlord stood as the spy got near him, pulling himself to his impressive height.

"How did you find me?" he demanded drawing his energy field close, so it won't betray his emotions.

Soundwave, on the other hand, let his EM field unfold, reaching out to Megatron with relief/longing.

"Discovery: accidental. Objective: recover downed forecast satellite." He said aloud, surprising Megatron. But as the war has ended, he had no reason to hold onto silence anymore. "Soundwave: relieved. Feared for the worst. Megatron: was missed."

That earned the spy a disbelieving grunt. It remained unsaid, but it was clear that Soundwave had joined the autobots' along with Shockwave, Knockout and most of the troopers. The chance that he stumbled upon Megatron by accident was almost impossibly small.

"If you came here to lure me to the autobots, you are wasting your time. I won't give them a chance to put me in custody or execute me. Leave, now!" With that, Megatron considered the conversation done, but Soundwave was persistent.

"Autobots: won't go against Prime's wish for peace. Megatron: safe to return, if wishes." He stopped, and cut to a recording of Ultra Magnus. "In this war, we have all committed crimes. Each and every one of us had earned execution a hundred times over the course of these last millennia. Thus, anyone who wishes to aid the rebuilding of Cybertron will be pardoned and given a fresh, new chance."

"It must have pained him to say that", mused Megatron. Magnus had always been a very by-the-book bot. "I will think about it. But now, I wish to stay alone."

"Acknowledged," droned the spy, his field flashing with hope/relief before he took off with his trademark hop.

Megatron stood still, watching the smaller flier until he gained certainty that Soundwave won't circle back to spy on him. He waited a few more breems before taking off with a leap, a majestic sight even in this mangled form an made a small circle around the tower, just enjoying the cool air under his wings; a luxury under current circumstances, but he gave into temptation this one time before heading towards the old mine.

Megatron didn't fly straight to the mine. As every night since his exile began, his first destination was the nearby hot spot.

Hot spots were curious, sacred places. They were basins with rare, precious minerals and metals, the very same alloys that formed the spark chamber of every Cybertronian, and bubbling pools of liquid protometal pouring forth from the deepest parts of the planet. Sparks from the Well gravitated towards them and upon landing, got embedded into the ground. The metals around the spark soon formed a protective sphere, a protochamber. If it was carefully cut from its place and placed into the cooler, shallower pools of protometal, under the course of an orn, it slowly built a frame to house the new life.

Sparks kindled from the union of two were similar; the small new sparks were carefully planted into the metal and closely monitored both there and in the pools. These new frames were usually smaller, physically less developed than those from the Well and needed a few dozen or so small upgrades to catch up, but they shared a close resemblance to their parents, so many Cybertronians were 'born' this way before the war, Megatron himself among them.

The autobots didn't have enough fuel yet to provide for New sparks, so this hot spot too remained untouched, the ground even and the pools too deep and too hot to form protoforms. At least in theory.

Megatron landed next to a small pool, careful not to step on any of the bright sparks and peered into the silvery liquid. There was a frame in there, the half formed chassis gently cradled by the waves. It was impossible - or rather ridiculously unlikely - for a spark to land in the liquid and start forming a frame. It just didn't happen, and it wasn't the only oddity. New frames were always small and it took a long row of upgrades and several protometal infusions until they reached their final size. Yet, this frame was adult sized, almost as big as Megatron was before Unicron's influence.

It was too much to be some weird coincidence, but Megatron didn't let his hopes up. It was still too early to tell, and it could be simply a new spark with a sizable frame type, like a shuttle or a smelter.

Either way, Megatron checked on it every night, just to be on the safe side. After all Primus had a legendarily bad sense of humor. He'll wait and see the laugh is on whom this time.

Megatron wasn't used to walking, but his companion wasn't a flyer. He didn't even have an alt mode yet, so they trekked through the plain at a painfully slow pace. At least it gave him time to teach the other a thing or two.

"You are mining in the Sea of Rust when you come across a titanium vein laced with silver. Is it safe to use explosives there?"

Long silence, then a tentative:

"Yes?"

"No. In the Sea of Rust, silver indicates the presence of grade 7 energon crystals." Megatron patiently waited while his pupil deciphered his answer. Grade 7 - high in energy, rare but found in big quantities at a time. Perfect for mid or high grade. Extremely explosive.

"Oh. I just blew up the mineshaft, didn't I?"

More like the whole mining site, thought Megatron, but the other looked so crestfallen that he didn't have the spark to say it aloud. Instead he patted a broad shoulder, the heavy industrial grade armor warm and solid under his touch.

"You still have time to learn. By the time we arrive, I'll make an excavation expert out of you," he promised with a smirk. The other looked at him, the sharp gaze of blue optics softening with a small smile of his own.

A/N:

And here goes the first chapter of three. First story I've ever wrote, so I would appreciate any review or comment.