A/N: First and foremost a most hearty and sincere apology for such an unexpectedly long hiatus! Thank you all of you for hanging in there and weathering the storm! Now that the beast of an MA exam has passed, we can move onward with De Cinere! Huzzah!

A few things of note to mention before we continue on: as you may have noticed, dear reader, the official premiere of Transformers: Prime season two is but a week away (perhaps even less depending on what part of the globe you call home...or, depending upon YouTube...) Now both Bumbee and I have come to the lamentable realization that we'll most likely be unable to bring De Cinere to any form of satisfactory conclusion before season two kicks off (thats not to say that we still aren't going to try!) So, that having been said, both Bumbee and I wish to say that regardless of when we conclude De Cinere, no matter what transpires within the official season two premiere (I'm calling it now, Jack and Arcee are going to Cybertron, you heard it here first!) we are going to remain true to our original story line. We have had De Cinere outlined in full for some time now and fully intend to stick to it, no matter how much it will inevitably differ from the official premiere. Thus, for all purposes De Cinere is simply our take on one possibility of how events could have transpired since the conclusion of season one. Again, just as always, both Bumbee and I still intend to remain as close and true as possible to both the characters as well as the universal plausibility that the show has already established; that is to say, it is to the spirit of the law that we wish to adhere to rather than the letter!

But enough chatter, we have trespassed upon your patience long enough, dear reader, and again offer our sincerest apologies as well as gratitude for remaining with us for so long! We can assure you that from here on out De Cinere will continue without any more lengthy interruptions and will once again be updated regularly.

Hope you enjoy, please R & R

~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee

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Consciousness returned slowly, in gentle eddies and waves, and for a time—certainly longer than he would have ever expected—he lingered just beneath the surface of true waking consciousness. It was a peaceful state, quiet, unassuming where one was locked in complete solitude with one's thoughts; it was, in a word, just one step shy of making a full, tangible connection with his frame and allowed him to persist completely unaware of his surroundings. After all, as he lingered there in those gentle borderlands, sifting through what fragments of memory he managed to retain, wherever his frame now lay was certainly not a place he was eager to return to.

Pieces and parts, nothing more substantial than fragmented bits, always shy of any whole and clear picture were all that he was left with. Able now, he took precious time to analyze each fleeting image as it materialized.

"Peace through tyranny!"

Megatronus' voice, harsh and rasping, but unwavering and steadfast as always. But yet those words and the raw, pulsing anger that tempered them didn't feel right, didn't feel familiar. It was and was not Megatronus.

I defend, I protect the weak and innocent from the evils and oppression of tyranny...Until all are one…

Those words resonated throughout his entire being, where the echoes of Megatronus' words rang as discordant, that velvet litany of "I defend, I protect" did not. That deep, abiding mantra both soothed and troubled his beleaguered and over worked processor. For within it's dialogic discourse, he became unquestionably certain of two things all at once: that such a phrase was both a part and an indication of who he was, of who he was supposed to be, and that somehow that self same phrase drew an irreconcilable divide between himself and Megatronus.

Feeling the weight of those words, dread grew within him as he became more and more certain that Megatronus was not his brother, that these new Cybertronians that had captured him, whisking him away to their base, were closer allies than Megatronus. Quiet currants of veracity sounded within all that they had told him, and he could not ignore it.

Having run through those audio files over and over again, he at last conceded that he had wrested all that he could from them, and without new intel, he could learn nothing more. So it was that he reluctantly took that last mental step forward, breaching the surface of consciousness, he allowed his processors to once more reach a fully functioning state, pushing his systems out of stasis. He was surprised at how sluggish the process felt, as if he had to expend more energy than was either usual or natural to once more make the connection between that awareness of self and frame. Why it should be so didn't occur to him until the process was complete and a wave of pain originating from the back of his cranium assailed him. It surprised him at its ferocity, and with the pain came more questions. He had been hurt? Attacked? When? By whom?

With more effort than he cared to admit, he attempted to shift his head into a more comfortable position, trying to ease the pain as he struggled to command the filigree pistons in his neck to respond. The feeble movement elicited a quiet vibration from his vocal processor, a soft moan.

Why were his systems so sluggish? Why did he still feel so removed, so distant from his frame? His limbs felt too heavy to move and were loathe to respond to his summons. And that bothered him. Something wasn't right, even if he had sustained a blow to the head, he still shouldn't feel this way. Primus, he had taken harder hits from Megatronus back in the sparring ring on Cybertron and still hadn't felt this bad.

One of the last systems to fully online was his audio receptors, and at first he was only able to discern muffled voices before the audio waves at last settled into coherent patterns. A higher pitched male voice, one that indicated the speaker was still young, reached his audio processor first.

"He's awake!"

"What?"

The second voice was similarly pitched, as it was distinctively male, but definitely belonging to that of a younger individual, younger, perhaps, than the first speaker.

"Quick! Go get Ratchet!"

"Yeah, and I'll go get Bulkhead too, just incase he decides to go all psycho-bot and attack us again." A third and distinctly female voice chimed in.

That first voice rose in answer, clearly annoyed, "He's not going to attack us, Miko."

"You don't know that, Jack."

"So now all of the sudden you don't trust him anymore?"

"He's not the same, he's not Optimus and until he is we can't trust him. I know its hard and that we all want to, but until he is himself again we have to play it safe."

"You've been talking with Bulkhead too much."

"Bulkhead just doesn't want to see any of us get hurt."

As they spoke their volume increased as emotions that had been pent up too long at last broke through the surface. Orion could hear the hurt, the pain, the frustration, anger all mixing together in a pulsing cacophony; it brought sorrow to his spark to hear such emotions vented in beings that were still so young, who still deserved the right to maintain their innocence. This Bulkhead they spoke of was right to try and protect them.

Yet, as much as it hurt his spark to listen to such sparklings in the throes of such feelings, it also hurt his audio receptors at their increasing volume. The one called Miko seemed particularly adept at pitching her voice to a shrilling frequency that only served to increase the pounding in his head. With great effort, he was at last able to lift one hand, pressing it against the side of his cranium.

As much as he wanted to, he didn't dare attempt to sit up, though he did at least online his optics, yet as soon as he did so he was comparatively blinded by treacherous pain inducing light. It took a few minutes for him to adjust to the brighter spectrum—he had grown accustomed to the lower lighting of the Nemesis—so that when he at last looked to where the two smaller beings were arguing—for all appearances they were apparently oblivious to him to now, having become absorbed into their argument—he was still squinting.

"—Yeah and how much you wanna bet old King 'Con has been filling his head with lies! When was the last time you ever knew Megatron to tell the truth—"

Here it was again, these beings, whoever they were, whatever their relationship to the rogue Cybertronians, seemed to share the belief that when it came to Megatronus there was no such thing as trust or truth. That is to say, everyone here seemed to bear an unyielding grudge against Megatronus. This place, wherever it was, could never serve as a haven for Megatronus, not when each and every being spouted the unwavering belief that Megatronus was not a bot to be trusted. Indeed, judging from Miko's high-pitched wails, she was convinced that Megatronus was a violent and vicious monster, one that was conniving and vindictive.

Orion was certain that this diminutive being—humans, he reminded himself, Megatronus had called them humans—had never met Megatronus before, let alone been in the same proximity, yet here she was voicing what Orion found to be unjust and unfounded opinions. Had Megatronus done something to her directly, had he been unjust or had lied directly to her then Orion would have found her remarks and assertions valid, of course Orion found it hard to believe that Megatronus would have it within his spark to ever lie or be cruel to someone like Miko.

"—Doesn't matter, Miko! Even if Megatron told Optimus we're the enemy and that we're evil or something that still isn't going to change who Optimus is! He wouldn't go off attacking us just because Megatron told him to! He's not like that, he'd listen first, but if we keep having Bulkhead smack him around then yeah of course he's going to fight back—"

Here Miko stamped her foot, "You just don't get it!—"

"—No, Miko, you're not getting it. Optimus is always going to be the Prime, no matter what because that's just who he is!"

Orion had heard enough, he could no longer remain silent, a neutral observer; that these humans feared Megatronus, believing him to be malicious and wholly evil was one thing, it was their opinion which they had just as much a right to as any bot. Yet, it was their insistence—an insistence that seemed to be reinforced by the other Cybertronians that were here—that he was not himself, that he was not Orion and that he was this being Optimus Prime, was one that he could not allow. He wasn't a Prime, never could or wanted to be, and it wasn't within his spark to allow such a misconception to continue.

"—It does matter! Because now that he's on Megatron's side what will keep him from destroying this whole base, huh? In case you haven't noticed Jack, we go squish real easy around here!—"

Before Jack could retort, Orion at last spoke up, his voice strained, giving evidence to his discomfort, "No matter what side you believe me to be on, I could never bring myself to harm the innocent," even as the words faded away, silence reigned as the two startled humans looked back at him, frozen in their shock. It hurt Orion's spark to think that they gazed back out of fear; he had done nothing to them and yet they seemed to be terrified of him. Orion tried again, wanting in that moment, more than anything to soothe away that frightened look in their eyes, "You have nothing to fear from me, I will not harm you…"

Jack, who seemed to be older than his female counterpart, responded first, galvanized by Orion's words to step up to the protective railing that wrapped around the platform which overlooked the medical bay where Orion lay, "I know you wouldn't—"

But before he could continue, Miko simply talked over him—an ability she seemed to be particularly adept at—" You were listening!" She shrieked.

Orion winced this time, flickering his optics shut for a moment as another wave of pain assaulted him, one that brought the recognition that his head wasn't the only thing that hurt. His shoulder felt stiff and tender as well, as though there had been recent repairs to it. But time enough for that later, "Yes…" he managed to answer as he onlined his optics once more, "Indeed, with your volume it was decidedly hard not to listen…"

"Miko," Jack snapped, taking charge, as Miko opened her mouth to retort no doubt, "Go get Ratchet!"

Even as she darted off, putting up surprisingly little resistance aside from rolling her eyes, another female voice interrupted, this one sounding much closer to Orion and far more Cybertronian.

"It'll be a few minutes, but Ratchet is on his way, Jack. Bumblebee was out on patrol and popped a tire so Ratchet went to go assist. Since Bee couldn't make it back in on his own, Ratchet had to go to him." The Cybertronian's voice was even, calm and collected as she addressed the human, but as she drew nearer and her optics turned to regard Orion's, her tone became strained, stiff in its cadence. "So…you're awake…already?"

While she seemed genuinely surprised, she didn't necessarily sound overwhelmingly pleased. It took a moment, but Orion realized it was because she was nervous now that she was addressing him directly; she, like the humans before, was afraid of him, afraid of what he might do. Orion's spark churned in a mix of frustration and hurt; what had he done to them to make them fear him so? What sort of place was this where Megatronus—Megatron they called him—was despised and where they insisted that he wasn't Orion, that he was their Prime? Yet, even if they believed him to be such, why did they all seem to fear him? What had transpired within the office of the Prime to incite such fear into other beings?

As these thoughts berated Orion, an entirely dissimilar set tugged at Arcee. Now, in the quiet of the base, entirely removed from the chaos of the rockslide, without the urgency of needing to get Orion back to base, and pointedly away from the 'Con's, Arcee found herself with a moment to reflect on how much he was and was not himself.

There were the same battle scars, the same worn but proud countenance, yet the optics that looked back at her seemed to be from a different 'bot, one who appeared to be younger—which was impossible wasn't it?—and uncertain. It was, in a word, a look that she had never thought to ever see from him.

As silence stretched between them, Arcee found herself shifting her frame, feeling unsettled, uncomfortable. He had chosen not to answer her, but then again, why would he? All too keenly she remembered his deep voice, an angry thundering, "You deceived me…"

No, he had no reason to answer her, just as he had no reason to trust her.

Arcee was brought out of her inner elegy, as Orion struggled to sit up, his movements were ungainly, uncoordinated and for some reason, it reminded her of a sparkling, struggling to take it's first steps. Without a second thought she was by his side, her hands flying to his shoulder as she sought to both steady him and push him back down. At her touch he emitted a hiss of pain, evidently she had pressed upon the newly repaired energon vein, and unable to cope with the strain of fighting a frame that wouldn't respond to his commands, he collapsed back onto the medical dock with more violence than Arcee intended.

"Optimus, I'm sorry…" She tried for a gentler tone, " are you alright?"

Stony silence and a none to friendly glare was her only answer.

Bitterness and shame rose within Arcee—she hated this tension, this distance between them! —but she shunted the feelings away, trying to keep her voice calm and confident, "Look, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to hurt you, but you need to rest…Ratchet induced a sedative into your systems to prevent you from over taxing your processors…it won't wear off for a few hours…so you really should be resting…"

In a way he was relieved to hear as much, for it explained why he still felt so lethargic and distant from his own frame. He took a moment then, running an internal diagnostic scan, looking for any foreign substance present in his systems; it didn't take him long to find it, and though he couldn't identify precisely what the compound was, judging from its chemical construction it wasn't threatening or detrimental in any way. She was telling the truth, it really was just a simple sedative designed to slow his systems down, to keep him in stasis longer.

After a handful of minutes had crawled by—during which he re-oriented his systems, leaving Arcee to stand in silence beside him—Orion finally turned to regard her directly, his optics locking with hers.

"Arcee…"He spoke simply and gently.

At the sound of his voice, moreover at the implication of such recognition, should couldn't help but perk up, "You remember me?" The fear, the nervousness that had colored her tone before had diminished greatly. She shuffled closer again, resting a hand lightly upon his forearm, hoping that somehow the gesture would help him to recover something, anything more.

"Yes…"He seemed to chose his words carefully, "You…deceived me…in order to bring me here…"

Instinctively she stiffened at his words, dropping her hand and taking several steps pointedly away from him. But when his optics' widened at her movements, at the look of surprise that had flown into his expression when she seemed to pull away from him, Arcee realized that he had spoken without rebuke, without the heat of anger.

"Optimus…Orion…I'm sorry, truly I am…"She began.

"Arcee, you deceived me in an attempt to avoid a violent confrontation," His gaze became searching as he similarly reached for any tenuous reason or explanation that would help him understand, "You and the others…Bulkhead…Bumblebee…Ratchet, you were all desperate to bring me here and to get me away from Knockout and Breakdown…"

"Away from Megatron." She spoke up, this time firm and assertive, with no little disdain.

"Away from Megatronus."

When she had spoken the name 'Megatron' Arcee had made no effort to veil her loathing of both the name and the bot it was attached to, yet at Orion's correction of 'Megatronus' sadness, regret and longing had filled her gaze. He was missing something, a single link that would lead to understanding, it all eluded him and it all frustrated him to no end. Ratchet had tried to tell him earlier that Megatronus was no more, that instead he had become this 'Megatron,' this bot that everyone in this place seemed to both fear and hate. Orion couldn't help but wonder, since he had made it very clear his own loyalty lay with Megatronus—with this Megatron—did they now fear and hate him as well, simply because of his association? Was that why, even now, Arcee lingered just out of reach? Preparing, expecting some sort of attack from him?

"Why, Arcee?"

"W-why?" She blinked back, clearly confused.

"Why were all of you so desperate to bring me back here? To get me away from Megatronus…from Megatron?"

Saying the name aloud felt strange, different, yet somehow as soon as his vocal processor had uttered it, Orion was struck with the distinct sensation that it was not an entirely unfamiliar one, that he had said it before, perhaps many times, under many different circumstances.

But when! When had he done so?

The questions pulled relentlessly at him, the need to know why buried itself resolutely within the forefront of his processor, refusing to go away, to be dismissed, to be ignored; as Orion looked to Arcee then, he did not bother to keep the urgency that was beginning to border on desperation from tinting his tone.

"Why, Arcee?"

It was the one question that he knew she could answer, but unbeknownst to Orion, it was the very question that she dreaded, for it was the one that she didn't know how to answer. Looking back into Orion's open countenance, Arcee knew within her very spark that she couldn't, wouldn't, refuse him.

Oh, Optimus…where to begin?