Title: Forever Nights

Genre: Romance (mainly)

Rating: T, and hopefully won't need to go up.

Summary: "Memories were haunting things. Memories were cold, unforgiving and unrelenting. And there was no way to escape them, particularly the ones you wanted to escape the most. They were also reminders of what used to be, what could've been, and, most importantly, what should've been. That, most importantly, was what made them so detestable in the first place."

Pairings: Megatron/OC, Starscream/OC, Knock Out/OC, Soundwave/OC. Personally, I don't like multiple pairings with different OCs, particularly when someone can't find a balance between each of them. This balance is exactly what I'm going to try and find. Wish me luck!

Here goes my first Fanfiction. Thank you to MarySueDevourer, my unofficial Beta Reader and mentor, for her seemingly unlimited patience and tolerance. I must have been incredibly frustrating when you were helping my write this ^.^ And thank you to you, reader, for taking the time to read this story. This takes place in Operation: Breakdown.

Disclaimer: Transformers has never belonged to me, but to Hasbro. Sadly.

The Nemesis was steered through the endless clouds, Megatron observing the skies quietly from his place in front of the monitor. The room was deadly silent. Not a noise was made from the infamous Lord of the Decepticons, and there were no subordinates around to disturb the eerie kind of peace that plagued the room. No, there was only Megatron, who, on the outside, looked as deadly and focussed as ever. On the inside, however, his processor was spilling over a hundred different thoughts at once, and more just kept coming. His processor was a hundred miles away, and hardly what one could call 'focussed' on the monitor and empty sky before him. And for once, he wasn't plotting.

That in itself showed something was wrong. Something was out of place. But, with no outward appearances to signal this, any who entered the room would merely think him musing as usual. For this reason, he was left unbothered with his thoughts, though whether to be thankful or not for this... well, Megatron was not so sure, but at that given point in time he wasn't thinking about the Nemesis or whether or not to be angered by the inhabitants. Not in the slightest. Normally such things like the ones he was thinking about would be forbidden, to his processor at least, to dwell on. But boredom had it's own way of making Transformers do funny things.

It was a hand, soft, slim, elegant, trailing down his chestplate, leaving featherlight carresses as it went. It hesitated for a moment, only a moment, over the place where his spark sat, and it gave a strong pulse inside his chest cavity in response. Could they feel it? Megatron did not know, but if they did they did not show it. The hand was removed to be placed back on his shoulder, and the spot above his chestplate was replaced with a helm, a contented sigh coming from it's owner. Megatron's hold on the Transformer tightened, his arms firmly wrapped around the body that was curled up against him, and part of him longed to stay that way forever. Another part of him, however, had to so rudely remind him that such a thing was in no way possible.

"Megatron," she breathed, the hand on his shoulder gently exploring all the seams and gaps, even the wires hidden beneath.

The mech didn't give a proper reply. Not immediately, anyway. Instead, he let out a purr of satisfaction, optics lowering to observe the fine catch he was cradling against him. Her bright colours contrasting with his own bland gunmetal grey; her body, lithe and agile, whereas his was large and powerful. And those optics. Those glittering gold optics, that had never held anything but love, understanding and compassion within them. Her love, it would seem, knew no bounds. They balanced one another out. They fit together perfectly, like two peices to a jigsaw puzzle.

"My dear?" Megatron enquired, lifting one arm to gently stroke the side of her faceplate.

Her own optics glanced up to meet his own, a gentle smile forming. Slowly, gracefully, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, straddling his waist with her legs pinning him on either side. Calmly, Megatron leaned back, allowing his arms to support his weight behind him, watching her curiously as he awaited her next move. She leaned in closer, her chestplate meeting his, her lips too close to his own to resist the temptation. With a hungry grin, he tried to close the distance, but a single digit to his lips halted his advance.

Before he could question her actions, she shook her head in faint amusement, the warm smile never leaving her faceplate.

"You're not an animal, Megatronus," she said, her voice just as warm and kindly as the smile she had been wearing.

In hindsight, Megatron would realise what an out-of-character and odd thing that was for her to say. But it was a dream, and things were rarely questioned in dreams. Instead, Megatron's optics narrowed for a moment, observing her through them thoughtfully as if trying to figure her out. She only ever called him Megatronus when she wanted him to take her serious, to listen to her, and this was one of those times. Curiously, he tilted his head to the side, finding nothing on her faceplate that revealed anything abnormal. There was still the same understanding and undying love for him. Nothing different. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"If you say so," he purred finally, leaning forward again to nibble at her audio receptor.

This time, she didn't stop him. Her arms looped around his neck, and, this time, it was her that let out a purr of satisfaction.

"Love you," she murmured.

Megatron didn't get the chance to reply.

It was dream. A stupid dream, but it affected him none the less. It had certainly soured his mood for the rest of the day, mainly so because he was angry at a number of different things due to it: angry at himself for remembering her, angry at her for even existing in the first place, angry at his dream for ending too soon for him to reciprocate the love she held for him... had held for him. As well as the anger, there was also an underlying tone of guilt. He should've said the words back. Even though it had only been a dream, and even though it had ended before he could even think of forming a reply, it was still something he felt bad about, whether it had been outside of his control or not. It was far too personal for him not to feel some level of guilt over...

Oh, how close to home that dream had struck. Megatron still longed for the days that had long since gone. He longed for the days when things had been simple- when the Decepticons could barely even be considered a fledgling army, when his name was only just being recognized. Most importantly, he wished for the days when he had been with the femme who had captured his spark. Megatron had never been one to believe in the foolish stories of sparkmates; the very thought was absolutely absurd. Some said your sparkmate was almost the exact same as you, someone who could relate. Others insisted that it was the complete opposite, somebody who could balance you out. To this day, Megatron still did not believe in such foolish and naive stories. But he did, however, note that if they were true, then she would've most definitely fitted into the latter category.

She was gentle, for starters. Whereas he made his name through shows of power and glory in the Gladiator Pits, she cringed at the mere thought of violence. She was absolutely trusting and loving, and somewhat lacking in the natural charisma Megatron had seemed to possess, what with how shy she had seemed. There was never a time she purposely tried to harm another, lest she carry the guilt around for the rest of the day, and her caring nature was what had intrigued Megatron in the first place. The notion that she would never harm a fly, as the insects said, was something Megatron had not been familiar with at the time. Growing up in a world focussed solely on power and violence, her new approach had been... refreshing, in many ways.

And Megatron was nothing if not ready to exploit it. When he'd learnt of her training to become a medic, Megatron had almost immediately leapt at the oppurtunity presented before him. Nobody could say Megatron was not a manipulator, and had purposely approached her on many occasions with injuries, no matter how minor they had been, that he wished her to repair. From there, it'd just been a matter of her warming up to him. It had not taken long at all for her to open up, dropping her guard and leaving her wide open for grooming from the gladiator. By the time he had realised she'd grown on him just as much as he'd grown on her, it was far too late to go back.

He would not admit it, not even to himself, but Megatron would've happily fallen back into recharge that morning if he knew he could return to that dream. Instead, he was left with nothing but the memory files to prove the dream had actually existed, and for him to muse over. At least, he thought to himself bitterly, it helps to pass the time.

Megatron was not the only one aboard the Nemesis who was even remotely distracted. Starscream was lying facedown on his berth from where he'd passed out the previous night, looking almost as if he were still in recharge. His processor was more than active, though. He was grooming through his memory files, replaying old scenes and saving them away to look over more carefully later. To call the morning slow for the Seeker would have been a severe understatement. After days of sulking at the return of Megatron, as well as the severe beating that had been dished out as a result of it, Starscream had turned to the universal cure- Energon. He was regretting that choice now, however, what with the not-so-mild hangover he was sporting and the foul mood it had left him with.

With absolutely nothing else to do, Starscream had resorted to his memory banks, hoping that they would help to cheer him out. He wasn't just seeking out any old random memory, however. Starscream was focussing solely on any and every memory on an Autobot grounder that had caught his attention some time ago.

Aquaspark was energetic to say the least, but upon monitoring her Starscream had come to find that with this energy came blatant mistakes and good openings for attacks. There was no doubt in his processor that taking her down would be a peice of cake, not to mention killing her. But where would the fun in deactivating her be? Femmes, he found, were undoubtedly the funnest things in the entire universe to toy with. An Autobot prisoner all to himself was almost too good of an oppurtunity to pass up, although Megatron would not doubt order her slaughtered before Starscream was given the chance to have any real fun...

He let out a frustrated sigh, sharp digits digging into the sides of the berth and pushing himself up into a sitting position. His back leant against the wall for support, and he glared at his reflection in one of many discarded Energon cubes that littered the floor of his quarters.

"It's not fair," he growled to himself, kicking a cube off of his berth as he did so. "Why can't I be leader? I'd be twice the Lord he'd ever be."

Silence was his only answer. Starscream let out a soft growl, burying his head in his hands and trying to go back to the memories that could quite possibly improve his quickly detoriating mood. Aquaspark, Aquaspark, Aquaspark, he mused to himself with yet another slight growl, how utterly foolish and naive you seem. It appears you are in need of a lesson... Psh. Starscream wished. The chances of him getting his hands on her was next to none. He'd begun to notice that whenever she was out, she was not alone, and somebody was always watching her back for her. Due to this, Starscream could only be left to delusional fantasies of the day he'd finally lay his hands on the Autobot femme.

One could not be surprised for him turning to such distractions, either. She was, as far as Starscream was aware, one of the only two femmes who were on Earth. Between her and that uptight cow Arcee, it had been somewhat of a no-brainer as to whom any Decepticon would prefer. A particularly favourite memory of his had occured only recently, when he'd been so close to not only terminating Optimus Prime, but also finally claim what was rightfully his. All he'd needed to do was fire the last shot, transform, and grab the femme that had been standing at his side, all in one fluid motion. He'd seen the move happening, he'd almost been able to taste the victory that awaited him, it it weren't for-

"That accursed Megatron getting in my way!" Starscream snarled, slamming his hands down on his berth so hard it actually shook from the force.

How dare he? Starscream had been so close to acheiving his longtime goal, and what did he get for it? An undignified trip to the Med. Bay, with the idiotic drones that occupied the ship having to pick up the peices that he'd left behind! Starscream... did not like being made an example of. He was Second-in-Command, not a punching bag for Megatron to put on display for all to see! It was not Starscream's fault Megatron was incompetent enough to get himself blown up in that pathetic excuse for a space bridge! He wouldn't have survived anyway, regardless of whether or not Starscream removed the shard of Dark Energon that had still been wedged in his spark.

Starscream still remembered when Megatron had performed what had seemed to be such a dangerous act at the time. Shoving a chunk of Dark Energon into your spark without knowing the consequences... how utterly stupid could you get? The Air Commander distinctly remembered trying to discourage Megatron against it, though if any thought it was out of concern for Megatron they were sorely mistaken. Starscream's primary concern had been for himself, and whether or not he'd be able to fight off a rabid, zombie Megatron.

Mark his words, Starscream would get his revenge. One way or the other, he would have that femme, overthrow Megatron and take over the universe. Truly the universe favours those who persist?