I can't go two days without referencing Transformers: More Than Meets The Eyes so...not entirely sure why it took me this long to try to write a fanfic set in that universe.

Probably fear. That's probably it.

Story is set after Megatron, now trapped in the Functionist Universe, finds Unitrex-1 and converts it into the Last Light. Oh and, uh, before most of this cast ends up getting killed, obviously.

I own no things (title taken from Tom Wait's song "All Stripped Down")

All Stripped Down

Well, the time will come when the wind will shout
(All stripped down, all stripped down)
And all the sinners know what I'm talking about
(All stripped down, all stripped down)
When all the creatures of the world are gonna line up at the gate
(All stripped down, all stripped down)
And you better be on time and you better not be late
(All stripped, all stripped)
(All stripped down, all stripped down)

-Tom Waits

What was a bot to do when they were trapped in an alternate universe, waging a ceaseless war against a theocratic order that never lacked for inventive ways to make fear a universal governing principle? You took stock. You took stock and you braced yourself for what was inevitably waiting for you round the next corner.

For Megatron, taking stock mostly involved people watching. It grounded him: when he people watched long enough—when he let his eyes follow the movements and conversations of familiar faces—he'd sink into the present moment and forget that the people who'd most strongly shaped his life were an entire universe away.

Brainstorm and Pipes were talking in the large atrium just below the bridge on the Last Light, where Megatron was currently sitting in the captain's chair, staring out over the milling bots and the couple of organic refugees the crew had picked up. Or, rather, Brainstorm was talking. Pipes was fighting with every ounce of his being the urge to deprive the Anti-Vocationalist League of their leading experimental "defense first, disarmament second, offense third—and please no objections this time, Brainstorm" munitions specialist. It was a common occurrence in the tunnels under Cybertron—and on the Last Light, naturally.

"…so, yeah," Brainstorm said, "at least we can all agree that a something important came out of all this and that getting shot with a third-person bullet isn't the worst thing to happen to somebody."

"No!" Pipes said. "No we can't! We can't say that because you didn't just blurt out some unbelievably private information in front of literally everyone!"

"Okay, first? I didn't shoot you with an exaggeration bullet. Literally everyone? Right. It was like five people. Second? That's the point, right? Shoot anyone with this bullet, they can't resist to narrate—out loud—everything they're doing, and presto: stealth missions are literally impossible! See? That's a proper use of 'literally.' Not the way you used it."

"Fine. Fine. It was five people. One of whom should never have learned the things he just learned!"

"Oh c'mon—like Riptide didn't already know."

"Like he di—what? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're completely obvious."

"How? I don't have a mouth and my eyes are visors! How's it physically possible for me to be obvious?"

"Trust me on this, Pipes—there're people who've never seen a single Cybertronian in their life that know you've got it bad for him."

"Now you're exaggerating! And like a million times worse than me!"

"Y'know what?" Brainstorm started walking away, "I'm getting that exaggeration bullet. Then I'm gonna shoot myself and we'll see how different my answers are."

And Brainstorm would've done exactly that if a massive, armoured figure hadn't blocked his path (and most of the light from the hallway's, well, lights).

"Oh uh, Magnus," Brainstorm said. "Don't mind me—just off to go shoot myself."

"That's really not the kind of thing I want to hear," Ultra Magnus said. His expression changed with all the precision of a sniper's round from 'neutral' to 'slightly more worried than neutral.'

"Just let him," Pipes said, standing at the edge of Magnus's shadow. "If we're lucky he'll miss and hit something important."

"I'm not aiming for my head, idiot."

"Who says your heads important?"

A massive fist clamped onto Brainstorm's shoulder and held him back. Magnus's eyes darted back and forth between the two arguing bots.

"Do I need to read aloud the number of regulations this conversation is violating?"

"No no, no," Pipes said, backing away. "We'll be good—we swear."

"That's cruel and unusual and sadistic and some other word I can't think of at the moment," Brainstorm said.

"Someday," Magnus said, letting go of Brainstorm's shoulder, "you'll come to appreciate the rules like I have."

And that was about all Megatron could listen to. Not because he found the whole thing inane—that wasn't his issue, not anymore—but because it was hard to look at Magnus without feeling a near-debilitating sense of guilt.

And there was another presence on the bridge, of course. One that demanded Megatron's full attention.

"Sorry Optimus," Megatron said. "I'm in your chair."

"Are you?" Orion Pax—another universe's most inspirational figure, in that everyone here who found Megatron inspiring owed it all to him and not Megatron himself—simply crossed his arms. Despite Pipe's comments about faceplates and visors, Megatron could see the amusement on Orion's face.

"I believe it's your turn at the helm," Megatron said. "Unless I've got my days wrong."

"I don't bother to check—I just go off of whether Magnus is giving me weird looks." The look of amusement disappeared. "Are you doing all right?"

"As fine as I usually am," Megatron said. "Why?"

"Because that's the answer I was afraid of." Orion leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice. "That and you called me 'Optimus' again."

"Just now?"

"Just now, yeah."

Megatron sighed. "Apologies, Orion. I've got too many things on my mind."

"I know. That's why I'm checking."

"And that's all this is? A check-up?"

"If need be, yes." Orion looked over his shoulder at nothing in particular. "But if you're up for it, someone's looking to talk to you." Megatron tried to look where Orion was looking, but Orion shook his head. "He's not on the bridge. He's in his hab-suite."

Ah.

"We're talking about Terminus, correct? I've not seen him in…well, in quite a while."

"I know," Orion said.

"So he sought you out? Told you he wants to speak to me? Why didn't he just tell me himself?"

Again, Orion shook his head. "He didn't do any of those things. I could just tell something was bothering him and, well, he avoids the bridge like it's structurally unsound, so…"

Ah. And that'd be why he didn't come tell Megatron himself, wouldn't it? Mmm, he'd been trapped in this nonsense universe for how long, teaching 'Peace Through Empathy' with all the conviction of a bot a tenth his age…and yet, Megatron still hadn't fully reactivated his own sense of empathy, hadn't he? Otherwise he'd have known. Otherwise Orion wouldn't have had to seek Megatron out on Terminus's account.

"He thinks you're mad at him," Orion said, snapping Megatron out of his own thoughts.

"What? Why? What possible reason could I have to be mad at him?"

"I've no idea," Orion said. "But people make their own reasons, even when none exist. Isn't that right?"

Mmm, right. Of course, Orion. Of course…

Megatron stood up and started walking off the bridge. "Then suppose it's best for me to clear the air. Thank you, Orion, for bringing this to my attention."

"No problem at all," Orion said.

And just as Megatron was about to exit the bridge, up the stairs came Ultra Magnus. Somehow, despite having a body that didn't mesh the way it should, Megatron managed to keep himself from looking visibly startled by the bigger bot. Startled in the same way Megatron always was startled whenever Minimus—Magnus—crossed his path.

"Megatron," Magnus said, nodding his head respectfully.

Megatron paused, then responded with a respectful nod of his own "…Magnus," he said.

And the two bots passed one another as if one of them didn't exist the way he did solely because of the interference of the other.

(***)

Terminus's hab-suit was as bare as Megatron's had been aboard the Lost Light, which naturally didn't help matters—not least because it dawned on Megatron just how little he'd actually been in here since he'd found this universe's Unitrex-1. They'd managed to libertate it from the bowels of Unitrex, naturally enough, where it'd been forgotten or ignored by the Functionist Council for 5 million years. It was slower than the Lost Light and lacked some of the same amenities (as far as Megatron could tell, this universe hadn't known a 'Swerve' in a very, very long time), but it was close enough to the original. Close enough, anyways, that if Megatron thought about it too long, the guilt came right back—with all the power of a blast from a fusion cannon.

Still, despite the bareness, Terminus was awake and sitting on his recharge slab, reading…something. Megatron couldn't tell from the doorway.

Finally, Terminus saw Megatron's shadow.

"Oh! Oh, um, Megatron. Uh…come in why don't you?"

In Megatron went.

"So…apologies for the mess."

"A joke, right?" Megatron said.

"An attempted one, anyway. That's what happened a lot on the Lost Light, right? You said there were enough jokes to kill someone."

"I said there were enough jokes onboard to be used as a fuel-source, if I'm remembering correctly."

"Oh, sorry—that makes more sense. Nothing so morbid—that's not your style."

Megatron frowneded. Then, slowly, he walked to the wall just opposite Terminus's recharge slab, leaned against it, and let out another sigh. "In the old universe? If someone said that sentence, they'd be saying it sarcastically."

"I wasn't."

"I know. Why are you making jokes on my account?"

"Because we need you at your best? Because you were comfortable on the Lost Light—you were effective —and this universe needs that Megatron even more than the old one."

"I had a feeling that'd be your answer."

"If I'm predictable, Megatron, then it's because I'm honest."

Megatron could tell that Terminus was searching for something—in Megatron's expression, his posture. Evidently, he didn't find what he was looking for: Terminus slouched back onto his recharge slab. Megatron had to suppress another sigh.

"Orion says you think I'm mad at you."

Up shot Terminus.

"He wh…mmm. Mmm." Terminus slid off the recharge slab. "You know, it's not fair. Here he is, observant as all hell, and I can't get a read on the guy."

"Anyone else," Megatron said, "and I'd say that was intentional. Orion's observant—it's part of what makes him him."

"Mmm, well…it's inconvenient."

"I know. Trust me. More than anyone—about four million years more—I know."

Silence. Even Megatron himself wasn't sure if he was trying to lighten the mood with that comment or not. Again, he suppressed the urge to sigh.

"I've no reason to be mad at you," Megatron said.

"To be honest," Terminus said, "most of the time, I don't think you do either. But then there are those times—those increasingly frequent times—when I think, yes, you have every reason to be mad at me." Slowly, Terminus's eyes went to the ground. "Whether you're actually mad at me or not is immaterial."

Things had already started clicking into place before Megatron had even entered the hab-suite. Now, though? Now the logic-gates had thoroughly snapped shut.

"If this is about the transporter coordinates…if this is about the directions you gave me, when Luna 2 was attacking and the Lost Light crew was about to be teleported back home…you had to know I suspected you from the very beginning."

"Of course I did."

"And, yet, I've made no attempt to broach the subject. I've made no attempt to reprimand you. I've made no attempt to avoid you, even—as…as petulant a reaction as that would be, it'd at least be indicative of something, wouldn't it?" Megatron moved a tad closer to Terminus, held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. "If I were mad at you, I would have said something."

"Would you?" Terminus crossed his arms. "Or would you throw yourself into your work? My argument is still sound, Megatron—this universe needs you more than the old one—and I know you can see that too. So would you waste time punishing me, even though, deep down, you want to? Or would you ignore your feelings and focus on the task ahead?"

Megatron…could only frown. "That's what you think of me? That'd I'd…that I'd want nothing so much as to punish you for what you did? You think I'd do that to you?"

Terminus went to say something, stopped, then softened his features. This time, it was Terminus's turn to sigh.

"No. No I…no, of course not. Of course not. I'm…I'm getting swept up in things. I apologize, Megatron—really, I do."

The two of them stayed where they were standing, unmoving, just slabs of metal watching the universe expand around them. Megatron was the first to give any sign of life. He started towards the door.

And, halfway through the doorway, he stopped.

"I wish that was the way you felt," he said over his shoulder. "Because if you felt that way about me, then I'd be certain you finally understood what kind of monster I'd been all those years you were gone."

He let the hab-suite door close before Terminus could say anything back.

(***)

"Glitch—you were the last person to use the communal energon dispenser on Deck 15, sublevel 2, correct? For approximately two-point-one three arcs?"

Glitch stared up at Ultra Magnus. "Uh…maybe?"

"Maybe you were the last to use to communal energon dispenser, or maybe you used it for two-point-one three arcs?"

"Uh…both? I mean jeez Magnus, what're we supposed to keep track of everything we do like…uh…"

"Like what, Glitch?"

"Y'know what? I forget. Not only that, but I have this weird feeling that I regret whatever it is I just forgot about."

A Magnus stare was like looking at an object that was being sucked into a black hole: it seemed to last forever.

"Just do a better job of cleaning up after yourself," Magnus said eventually.

"Yeah uh, you got it boss. Right-o, roger that, all…uh…all that good stuff."

Glitch had turned around and walked off just as Megatron came down the hall. Magnus and Glitch in the same hallway—were Megatron a religious type, he'd expect it was all intentional. As it stood, he was just struggling to keep his expression from giving too much away…or his eyes from so obviously darting back and forth between two lightning rods of guilt.

Magnus, turning around, finally saw Megatron. "Ah," he said. "Just some administrative issue—nothing that can't be erased from his record after a weeks-worth of good behaviour. I know you're fond of him so, don't worry, it's nothing serious."

"That's…good to hear, Magnus," Megatron said. Finally, after some effort, Megatron regained control over his eyes and kept them from desperately looking for an escape route. "Magnus, I…hrm. Minimus—I'd like to speak with you."

Magnus's expression changed—changed dramatically. It only did this when the name 'Minimus' was used; and since the only people on board who knew that the massive bot was actually Minimus Ambus were—besides himself—Orion, Ratchet, Terminus, and Anode…well, the others rarely brought it up. Megatron had the distinct displeasure of seeing this change of expression more than anyone else in the universe.

"I…what? What is it?" Magnus checked over his shoulder—the hallway was empty, but his posture didn't relax. "Is there some place more private we could go?"

"It won't take long, I promise."

After some time, Magnus relaxed—slightly. Just like the other Magnus—the other Minimus—relaxation was as far away from a default state as you could get.

As if on cue, there came the guilt again.

"All right," Magnus said. "If you're quick. I've things to do, anyways. A mess could break out at any second."

"I just want…I…I just wanted to compliment you on how…how thoroughly you've immersed yourself as Magnus. I have to say it's…I knew the original so well, and yet, in my mind, you are Ultra Magnus—and always have been."

"I…well, I don't know what to say. That's high praise from…from anyone that knew the original, especially since there are so few of you still around." Ever so slightly, Magnus's posture relaxed just that much more. "But, all the same, I don't think I can take your compliment…if you know what I mean. It's…it's not conscious, I mean. This armour—this life—it's…'custom fit' is the only phrase I can think of. I hate that. Such a...such an empty phrase but, then again, I'm not a poet."

"You're sure, though?" Megatron said. "You're sure that's how you really feel?"

"You gave me my eyes back, Megatron."

"Ratchet did that. And besides, we could've done that with your—with your Minimus body. We didn't need the armour for that."

"No, you misunderstand." Magnus held up his hands like he was a teacher trying to correct a student. "I gave up after Dominus and Rewind were…after what happened. I gave up and I was ready to sink. But from up here, from the places this armour lets me go—I can see more than I've been able to in a while. I can see things that, before, I needed Dominus and his writings to see." Magnus smiled—and that was the worst part of it all. "So thank you, Megatron. Not just for the rescue, for taking that bomb out of me. For a lot more than that. And no need to check up on me like that. If anything," Magnus patted Megatron on his shoulder and, slowly, made his way down the hall, "I should be checking in on you. Come see me if you ever need to talk. I'll…do my best. Dominus had the people skills, after all."

And then Megatron was alone, for how long he couldn't tell. Long enough that he didn't sense the other presence in the hallway.

"How long did you practice that?" Orion's voice said.

"Trion's beard! You—" Megatron spun around and—and again, that faceplate covered a lot, but Megatron could tell Orion was smirking. "Hrmm, the Orion on my world was never that stealthy."

"I've had practice," Orion said. "And incentive. It's not often we get to see you off-balance."

"Believe me—it happens more than I let on."

Megatron started to walk away, but of course that wasn't the end of things.

"You didn't answer my question," Orion said.

"Surely, Orion, you can't think I planned that bumbling sideshow in advance."

"The best laid plans and all that. If nothing else, I'd bet you that Magnus is slowly going to realize just how often you ask him the same thing."

"Nonsense."

"Nonsense as in he won't realize…?"

"No, nonsense as in I don't do what you just accused me of doing." He could feel his anger coming back, so with the shake of his head he tried to either concuss himself or push it out of his system. "God, you're picking the worst times to talk to me, you know. I can usually compose myself."

"I'd be awfully worried if you didn't show some signs of wear-and-tear. You'd be past the point of help otherwise."

"And by that you mean…?"

"I mean I've seen bots collapse from exhaustion before. They're at their most chipper right before stasis hits." Orion had quite obviously been standing in Megatron's way; now, he shifted just enough to give Megatron an out, if he wanted it. Typical Orion behaviour—it was the subtle things and that made him him. "Did you talk with Terminus?"

"I did. I went to see him right away."

"And the prognosis?"

"He assumes I'm mad at him. I insisted I'm not. If something's to be settled, it's not going to happen after one conversation."

"And you told him why you're not mad at him?"

"That didn't appear to be the direction the conversation was heading."

"Then you're right," Orion said, "it won't be settled after just one talk."

Megatron seriously considered walking right through that gap and ending this conversation there and then. But…he didn't. He just pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Trying to convince someone that you're not mad at them is…Rodimus would have a name for it. 'Ass-backwards,' that's what he'd call it. The burden of proof should be on people who want others to think you're mad at them, not the opposite."

"Interesting position—I wonder what other situations that might apply to."

"Orion, please. I know what you're going to say, and I only have one brain module—if I had another one I'd have room for a second headache."

"Well, if you know what I'm going to say already," Orion said, his face… 'knowing,' that'd be the word, "then there's no point in me saying it."

Megatron watched him go…and he watched Orion stop and turn around just as he reached the end of the hallway, too.

"On the Lost Light—the psychologist…"

"Rong."

"It was Rung, wasn't it? That's what it was here, I think."

"Rung…you're right. It was Rung. What about him?"

"Did you see him often?"

Megatron had to think about that for a while.

"No. Other things came up. Why?"

"Nothing. Nothing major. I'm…just curious why you never got the chance to work through these things."

"Other matters came up, like I said."

"Right, well…don't put it off here too, all right? The universe might be at stake but…you're a part of the universe too, understand?"

And before Megatron could say anything else, Orion disappeared around the corner.

(***)

Terminus's hab-suite was empty. And nobody in the nearest communal dining area had seen him leave. There were other things to worry about at the moment but…well, if nothing else, Megatron didn't think it wise to ignore something Orion said. Especially if the only reason he could think of to dismiss it was some gravelly voice in the back of his mind calling Orion a 'naïve idealist.'

Nautica—another part of 'Team Rodimus' that Megatron had found and, by all accounts, conscripted (though at least an all-consuming singularity wasn't involved this time; there was always that)—passed him by as he was hunting and gave Megatron her usual wide grin.

"Megatron! Prowling the lower decks are we? Sorry but, nothing too interesting going on down here." Her smile disappeared. "That wasn't suspicious! I mean that wasn't meant to be—nothing to hide, honest! God I'm making it worse, aren't I?"

"It's all right," Megatron said, returning the smile. "I didn't suspect you for an instant."

"Good. I mean, not that I couldn't pull it off if I didn't want to but I'm shutting up now and going to go find somewhere to hide. Bye!"

"Wait," Megatron regained her attention before she could sprint off. "Have you seen Terminus?"

"Terminus? Uh…lemme think. Don't think so? Is he not in his hab-suite? That seems to be where he's spending most of his time."

"Precisely my point—he's not there."

"Oh." Nautica's face told the whole universe that she'd come to a conclusion. "Oh. Oh dear, um, is everything all right? This…this isn't really my area of expertise but if you need help I could…help find someone more qualified?"

"It isn't urgent," Megatron said. "He'll turn up eventually."

"Ah. Ah okay, well…good! I suppose." Nautica tapped her fingers together and stared off at either side of the hallway, then chuckled and shook her head. "Well, either way, sorry I'm not much help. Quantum engineering and it's associated wonders? You'd think that'd be complicated, but it isn't. It's just technical. People though? People are complicated. Don't know for the life of me where to start with them."

Megatron paused and stared and, after a silence that he figured had gone on too long, he said: "I know the feeling, Nautica. It's the worst and most wonderful thing about all of us."

"Worst and most wonderful…yep! Sounds right to me!"

As Nautica left, Megatron thought about where on this ship someone like Terminus might go to. Blanks, all he was drawing were blanks. Terminus, it seemed, was doing an awfully good job of hiding…

…almost as if he was in the one place Megatron was guaranteed to not be.

Of course. Of course that would be it.

Megatron headed off in the direction of his own hab-suite.

(***)

"Terminus? That looks an awful lot like snooping."

Terminus whirled around and, for a moment, looked like his spark had left his body. After a few cycles, colour returned to his…well, everywhere.

"It's your voice that's the worst, you know," Terminus said. "I don't understand how anything can echo like that."

"Years of practice. I wasn't born with it—I thought you'd remember."

"A lot of my early memories got superseded when that lanky bot punched the moon."

"Yes, well, as is only natural."

Silence. Once it passed the point of being bearable, Megatron entered his own suite, let the door close, and then sat on his recharge slab. He motioned for Terminus to do the same, but the other bot shook his head.

"You don't have to stand."

"It's fine. I've spent too much time on a recharge slab anyways."

"Precisely why I keep trying to check up on you."

"It's appreciated, even though your attention's better utilized elsewhere."

"Dammit—Terminus, it isn't! It isn't better utilized elsewhere because it keeps being dragged back here. To whatever this is."

One Mississippi, two Mississippi.

"Sorry, Megatron—that's what I've been trying to avoid."

"No. No you…no. It's not you, it's not anything you've done wrong. It's…things need to be sorted out, Terminus—not for the galaxy's sake, not for the mission's sake—for our sake."

"What's there to sort out?"

"That I'm not mad at you. I'm past all that."

"But you were. That's what you're saying, isn't it? You were mad."

"Yes! Yes I was—I was livid, from spark to brain-module and back again, you took a choice away from me even though I explicitly told you what I wanted to do."

"I thought I knew better. I thought you'd let yourself get consumed with guilt, and I knew what you'd choose if you didn't have that on your shoulders."

"And that, Terminus, was the greatest betrayal of them all. Because I spent four million years assuming I knew what other people wanted better than they did, and in the process, I ended up killing more people than on this world have ever been born."

One Mississippi, two Mississippi. More silence. More stares.

Eventually…

"I know," Terminus said. "I don't think that anymore. When everyone was dying around us? Yes—but not anymore."

Megatron looked at the pile of datapads on the floor. "Because you've read what others have written about me?"

"No. I read what you wrote about yourself—that's all. But…it's easy to think you know what's best under duress. When quiet comes, you start to realize just how slippery a slope that really is."

"Life wasn't very quiet for me. Not for a long time." Megatron looked back at Terminus. "So you understand, now, why I wanted to go with back Rodimus."

"No—I just know that you did. That's enough." Terminus looked at the floor. "It's certainly enough to hate me, if nothing else."

Megatron, too, looked at the floor. And then, in a quiet voice he said: "I told you, I'm past that."

"But why?"

"Because." No, not good enough—not remotely good enough. "Because you had good intentions. Because of what you just told me—right here, right now—about having learned your lesson. Because I've been fighting what might very well be a losing battle against the me that would've held a grudge and made you suffer for it."

"You mentioned that already."

"Yes, and so I have first-hand experience with how utterly self-destructive, counter-productive, systemically irrational and—above all—evil that sort of mindset is." Terminus didn't look convinced. "You had good intentions—that can't be said for most who assume they know what's best for others."

"Everything you've just said…it's what I told you at the matter transporter. I said, what did you being punished do for others? And you said you didn't want to go back on your word to them. I believe you…but I still can't help but think you're stuck in the same mindset as before, only now your target isn't everyone else—it's just you. You said you used to be the type that punished people, made them suffer. Is that not what you're doing to yourself—still?"

And…silence. Broken only by a long, rattling sigh.

"I did terrible things to trillions of people, Terminus."

"And so everyone else gets to do whatever they want with you? That isn't right either—it isn't right and you know th—" Terminus pinched the bridge of his own nose. "I'm doing it again. I don't—I'm not sure how else to word it, but you know what I mean."

"I suppose I do."

"I regret taking that choice away from you. I don't regret thinking you're better off here—that everyone is better off with you here." Terminus's eyes went to the stack of datapads he'd flung on Megatron's floor. "If you're not going to hate me for what I did, then don't hate yourself either. Don't think you have to hate yourself on principle—because you don't. Repentance and self-loathing aren't the same things."

Terminus pushed himself off the wall and started towards the doorway. He looked back, just briefly, to see if Megatron would tell him to stop. Then he kept walking and—

"Wait."

Terminus turned around.

"Everyone on this ship," Megatron said. "Everyone save for Orion and a few others—you've had to have noticed how familiar they look."

"I have."

"And you've had to have suspected that was intentional."

"I've done that too."

"So I'm still controlling people. I'm still moving others around like chess pieces. I'm doing it to keep myself in check, yes, but it's still manipulation. People are complicated…and yet I have a knack for controlling them anyways."

"You care. That's where it comes from."

"And yet, if I cared enough, I wouldn't even bother." And then, anger exploded from Megatron's brain module like a ship's thruster, and out came his arm. A dent the size of Tailgate—another one he'd searched for but hadn't found—materialized at the other end of his fist. "Minimus is so much larger than that armour. He could stand toe to toe with ANYONE without out. And what did I do? The first time I realized—the VERY FIRST TIME IT DAWNED ON ME—that this universe had never seen a Magnus, I FORCED it on him! I forced it on him because MY Minimus was more a source of comfort than I'd seen since…" Open, closed, open closed—Megatron clenched his fists until he was sure he'd overlocked the hydraulics in his joints. "Since you…"

Megatron turned around on his slab, but he didn't dare make eye contact with Terminus. "I know what you're going to say. You're going to say: if I'm really doing this, it's because I've trapped myself. Because I refuse to let myself be forgiven, I'm going to keep doing unforgivable things. But that's too easy, Terminus. It has to be. It. Can't. Be. That. Easy."

"So that's it? You're a lost cause? Lost causes don't fight the way you've been fighting—they don't run themselves nearly into the ground like you have."

"I'm in a confined space. I've done what I've always done in a confined space. The Functionists just so happen to be a very big target."

"And what does Orion think of all this?" Terminus said. "Does Orion think you're as much a lost cause as you do?"

"No. Neither did Optimus. They've both been wrong before."

"Not as much as you have, though." Terminus turned to leave. "By your own admission—not as much as you've been." And then he stopped, turned around, and Megatron saw for the first time a man just as old as he was. Rescued by the Necrobot millions of years ago, placed in suspended animation for that entire time—in the mines, Terminus was older than Megatron by quite a bit. Now? While Megatron had blown past Terminus's age, right then, right there, they both looked like old men.

"You talked about intentions. I can't know what yours are, but I'll tell you what you've done: you've given me an idea of how I can repay you for taking your choice away. I won't give up on you, Megatron, even if you've given up on yourself. Maybe when this is all over, we can both officially consider ourselves even."

The door to Megatron's hab-suite shut, and for the first time in countless cycles, Megatron was alone in his own dorm.

Alone, even with all the familiar faces just a doorway away from him.

(***)

Megatron let himself recharge (the minimal amount he needed, nothing more), and then made his way back to the bridge. Orion was there, naturally enough.

"Sorry," Orion said, not even needing to look, "I'm in your chair."

"Hrm, funny."

"I'm dabbling in being literary. Nowhere near your level, of course, but points for trying, right?"

"Right."

"Well, the first reviews from the Tarn Daily-Herald seem rather lackluster, but what can you do."

Orion got up from the chair, but Megatron shook his head. "I'm fine to stand. I just recharged."

"A positive development. Some of us were wondering if you drew energy through an interdimensional wormhole."

"Some most certainly not including me," a voice from somewhere under a near-by control panel said. In a second, out emerged Perceptor—decidedly not on Team Rodimus but…but Megatron's reasons for picking him seemed clear enough, unfortunately. Chess pieces, countermeasures, people who in a different universe were perfectly happy to see Megatron burn…yes, transparent reasons indeed.

Perceptor walked past the two of them and gave a respectful nod. "Whatever's wrong with it, we've settled our disagreements."

"You don't know?" Orion said.

"We've been pushing ourselves nonstop the last little while. No complaints—we've warned enough organic planets of the Functionist's incoming attacks to at least balance our karma, if such a thing actually existed—but something was bound to give sooner or later."

"Imagine that," Orion said. "Good thing the crew is indestructible."

"I'm sure you're joking," Perceptor said. "You'd better be joking. If you're not, I'm telling Rachet."

"That's threat enough for me," Orion said. "Thanks Perceptor. I'll let you know if anything's acting up again."

"And I'll be doing my own bit to prevent a similar thing happening to me, since I'm most definitely not indestructible. 'Till next time."

Perceptor left the bridge. Just Orion and Megatron now.

"For someone with a faceplate," Megatron said, "you're remarkably transparent."

"What I lose in mystery, I gain in conversational efficiency."

"That sentence sounds hard to believe."

"Believe it. Being as upfront as I am, if someone plans to screw me over, I get to skip to the fun parts in record time."

"I'm sure the other party feels the same way."

"Well, why not share the fun?"

"Hrm."

Orion wasn't sitting. Megatron wasn't sitting. They both stared at the chair like it was a mythical object from the Knights of Cybertron.

"You talked to Terminus?"

"Yes. Again."

"And?"

"And he doesn't think I'm mad at him anymore."

"Ah. Just that, though?"

"Just that, Orion. It's complicated."

"If you insist."

"Orion," Megatron finally made eye-contact with Orion, and he made it perfectly clear that he was following Orion's advice on conversational efficiency. "It's complicated. A single conversation wasn't going to sort through it."

"Well…you tried, at least."

"Sure. I'll happily take my Rodimus Star now."

"Your what?"

"Nothing…nothing. Forget it."

Orion stared and…and then he shrugged. This probably wasn't the end of it but…Megatron didn't know. This wasn't the end of it and as far as he was concerned, there wasn't an end other than the one he'd put off, inadvertently or not, by finding himself trapped in this nonsense universe.

Footsteps. Magnus was heading up to the bridge. Megatron was about to motion to Orion to take his seat again but…

But the bastard was already moving away from the chair.

Megatron sighed and sat down.

"Reports," Magnus said. "For the both of you. I tried using a smaller font to save space on the datapads, but, frankly, too small a font and we diminish what's being said. You might as well have asked me to avoid using a semi-colon."

Orion took his copy, Magnus held out Megatron's. Megatron hesitated.

"Megatron?" Magnus said. "Is everything all right? You, uh, usually love these reports."

And, with yet another supressed sigh, Megatron put on a smirk that was at least partially genuine (he did enjoy the reports) and reached out to grab his copy.

"All right," he said, "let's see what's gone wrong since I rested."

"Nothing that can't be fixed with a little—what do you call it—taking stock?"

"Right, Magnus," Megatron said. And despite everything that'd happened—despite everything that had been said between him and Terminus—Megatron's smirk became just a little less forced.

"Let's the three of us take stock, then."

FIN

When I first started writing this out I was thinking: "Man, I don't think this whole Megatron self-flagellation thing is gonna be solved in the span of a short story."

And then, as it went on I thought: "Oh wait, it might! It might actually do that!"

And then I got to the big talk between Megatron and Terminus and I realized: "Heh, nope, never mind - ding dong I'm aggressively wrong."

So yeah, there's that.

Anyways, hope you all enjoyed reading - and as always, thanks for giving me your time - and, even more important than that, I hope I didn't completely bungle the first time I tried to write something in the same universe as like my favorite piece of pop culture in the last ten years.

I psych myself up for these things and I just...I just don't know, y'know?