The sky was dark when the planet's star finally dipped below the horizon. The moon, only a crescent, shined out the windows. There was one thing he could not argue; Earth was a beautiful planet. Organic or not, the sun and the moon were among his favorite traits of the little planet.

It felt like it was the beginning of the war again. Just after he swept away, not angry, but hurt. He always masked pain with anger. His spark contracted painfully, but he ignored it, and like he was accustomed to, kept it within. No one to confide in, alone and hurt. The one person to talk to was the very one who had hurt him. The war was suddenly pointless, but he couldn't see it ever ending. Everything was gone, so what was the point in ending? It was normal, now. Peace seemed…too far to reach.

Drowning and flying. Always drowning and flying. Acting like he was there, wherever he was, when he was drowning inside. He was never there. Flying…there was the act and there was the real thing. That only happened when fighting. Typically him. The one person he was safe with. He missed talking, being smiled at in return, joked with. He used to trust himself with that one. Now he was hurt, and he couldn't even express that properly. He was a leader. No one should see him shattering. He appeared as he had cultivated himself to be in the optics of everyone, but that one, him, he could always see through.

Or could he?

Now, Megatron wondered. Had Optimus finally accepted the popular belief that he was insane? That he felt nothing? The thought made his spark contract again. He was alone too much. He had to stop thinking or he'd drown himself with pent-up over-analytical observations, opinions, and over all emotions. He needed to stop feeling.

Megatron sighed. He needed to curl up in a nest of the fabric humans referred to as silk and fall into recharge. He didn't think he'd had real recharge, real sleep, since…slag, he couldn't even remember. Megatron's red optics watched the moon silently, distracting himself and marveled at the reflected light. Cybertron's moon wasn't like this one. He preferred Earth's.

Humans…now he didn't want to start thinking about humans. He was already exhausted. He should follow Soundwave's advice and close his optics and just fall into stasis already. Orion would have already had him curled into a ball…

Another pang of hurt. He was so distracted tonight…Megatron started to pace around his chambers, half alert and aware, or a fraction, and the rest in some lost daze of hurt, emptiness, and slight confusion. He was tired now that he thought about it…

"You need to sleep more."

Megatron's heavy optics blinked until he felt they were no longer so.

"I don't care. I'm fine, see?"

Megatron halted without realizing it.

"I can tell you're tired. You aren't thinking right. Look at how you got hit? You were sloppy today."

"I'm not sloppy."

Laughter. Megatron stopped himself from falling to the floor as he slowly drifted away.

"You still need sleep."

"No."

"I'll make you."

"A data clerk is going to make a gladiator do anything?"

"You wouldn't hurt me!"

More laughing. Hurt. Megatron prevented himself from falling again. He slowly waded his way to the berth.

"You really believe that?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

Megatron practically clawed himself on his own berth before settling, resting his head on some pillow. On Cybertron, nobles had silk berths, or other organic materials. All those below them had recharge pods. Megatron was lucky to have the pillow. How was it his size? He never bothered to wonder because he'd gotten it from a loyal servant who stole it from some noble.

"Just lie down."

"No…"

"Come on. In the berth."

A helm rested in a silver lap. Gentle hands caressed worn faceplates. Megatron sighed. His optics were already closed, but his mind was just starting to accept sleep.

"Megatronus…"

"…what?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say your name."

"Nnhg…"

A gentle smile. Megatron grimaced, and pulled the pillow to hide his face. He tried to let his systems shut down. He listened to the quiet. Finally his sleep deprivation caused his systems to force a shutdown, ending the all-too vivid memory of the young Orion Pax.

Did he ever once regret what he did? Did he ever once realize how much it hurt to face him as an enemy?

Optimus was alone in the dark. The crescent moon hung above the desert like a lost dream that was too far away to reach. It reminded him of the home he lost. But Earth was nothing like Cybertron. Neither was its moon.

"Megatron…" I miss you. Did Megatron ever once miss him back? Optimus wanted to cry, but he'd already wept too much those first years of the war. Years. When did he start using human terms to refer to time? What was it…centuries. Vorns. Mega cycles. Solar cycles. How long would this continue?

Why? Why Megatron, why? How did I hurt you? I don't understand!

Optimus' head fell in his hands. He felt terribly lost. The night was only just coming over the world. The darkness was still driving away the sun. Megatron probably liked the dark, for how evil he makes himself out to be. Was he really evil? Insane, too?

Optimus looked up at the stars, seeing places he'd once been to, far away. Megatron was always interested in the sky. Night skies he always thought were the prettiest. Cybertron's was a bit smoggy, like Earth. But here the sky was clearer. Less pollution.

Why were they apart? It hurt, but maybe Megatronus was gone. Optimus finally succumbed to his misery, silently letting a few tears stream down his smooth faceplates without bothering to wipe them away. Maybe, when he and Megatron were both in the Well, they could find peace together.

It seemed unlikely.