A/N: I am posting this earlier than I thought for a number of reasons 1) because I finished editing it early 2) I did not want to keep you, dear reader in suspense and finally (though it is an unrelated matter) 3) in celebration for having received my MA exam results and learned that I passed! That is three months of preparation and a 6 hour exam completed! I'd like to think that Optimus would be proud...Now that I have finished babbling egotistically, I will not keep you any longer dear reader, onward we go!
Please R & R!
~~~Epsilon Pax
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"The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is the infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the soul is wafted over regions of cycles of generations that have lived…they fade, sad phantoms: all is gone." (James Joyce, Ulysses)
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Consciousness alighted upon Arcee in not gentle waves and eddies, but rather all at once, in one swooping and harsh blow. One moment she was treading the waters of stasis, the next she was unceremoniously shoved into wakefulness. The first thing that dawned upon her as she struggled to orient herself was the thick gloom. The second, following all too swiftly upon the heels of her first realization, was the pain.
It pulsed seemingly through her every fiber and panel, instinctively she tried to curl her limbs inward, protectively, as if the gesture would somehow alleviate the pain. But at her slightest movement there came a harsh and restrictive rattle.
Chains.
That was when she felt the tension and strain that had settled within the servos of her shoulders and forearms. Stubbornly she gave her right arm—which hurt the least—an experimental tug, but found she couldn't. There was again that discordant rattle of chains, and Arcee squinted in the gloom, forcing her optics to focus when she realized why her shoulders ached in such a way, why she couldn't move her arms, and why she felt so disoriented and disconnected, so much so that she couldn't even feel the ground beneath her.
She was suspended, fully off the ground, hung up by thick biting chains that were wrapped around each wrist.
Panic flooded her spark, as she frantically began to tug and twist in any way that she could. But without the support of the ground beneath her, it was no avail and Arcee knew it, oh how well she knew it. She had been bound in such a way before. The sheer uncanny familiarity of her situation shivered along her spine as haunting memories assailed her processor: A looming impenetrable darkness… mocking laughter…the hollow click of mandibles and claws—Airachnid…the cries of her partner, of Tailgate as Airachnid had tortured him…so much pain, darkness…
Arcee shuddered again, sending reverberations up her arms, making the chains rattle and click—the click of claws, click, click, clicking as they twisted shards of metal off of her frame…bright blue drops of energon…the searing kiss of venom—Arcee moaned quietly as waves of defeat, of futility, of hopelessness crested over and through her. Primus be merciful…it was a desperate wish, a prayer uttered within the depths of her spark as Arcee slumped forward—as much as the chains allowed her—resting her chin against her chest plates. The only hope left to her now was for a quick off-lining.
Over time her optics became more adjusted to the darkness, and wearily she raised her head enough to look about her. She didn't cling to any illusions of potential escape; she had been through this before, there was no escape. Rather it was out of a detached sense of curiosity to know where she was, where, in short, her end would be.
That was when she saw them: two burning red optics watching her, the mechanism they belonged to lingered in one of the chamber's corners, where the darkness was deepest. Lazily they shuttered closed once, then opened, watching, waiting for her.
It didn't matter that she couldn't see a single detail of the looming mech's frame, Arcee knew who watched her from the shadows upon instinct. A flicker of defiance gave her the strength to lift her head, her gaze becoming challenging. If this was her end, she would not go whimpering and cowering, she would make him look her in the optic as he off-lined her.
"Good to see you again, Megatron." She snarled, voice dripping with the icy venom of sarcasm, "Or should I call you Megatronus?"
Rolling, rasping laughter issued from the shadows, preceding him as he stepped out of the darkness, moving to stand before her properly.
"What's wrong? Only feel like the big strong bot when your opponent can't fight back?"
There was another ripple of laughter, like bones rattling together in a macabre cadence, "Forgive me, Arcee, but I did not mean to be rude." He gave her a toothy grin, "Besides, this is for your own protection…we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself now would we?"
"I'd gladly take that risk."
"I have no doubt, Arcee. But Knockout and Airachnid assured me that you would be most comfortable this way, and who am I to doubt their word?"
"Enough games Megatron," Arcee drew herself up as much as she could, "Off-line me and have done with it."
He clicked in rebuke to her words, "Oh come now Arcee, I wouldn't do such a thing in cold energon. And have I not just told you that I want you to be comfortable? Besides…"He stepped forward, his countenance but a hand span away from hers, "If I had wanted to terminate you I would have handed you over to Airachnid already."
Arcee stiffened at his words, unable to hide the fear in her optics, though she was quick to answer, "Then what do you want?"
"What I have always wanted, Arcee." He drew back, once more at a comfortable distance as he watched her thoughtfully.
"I'm not telling you where the Autobot base is."
He shrugged his shoulders, dismissively, "I wouldn't expect you to, after all, we both know you're far too devoted to the Autobot cause to give up such sensitive information."
Arcee narrowed her optics, all the more wary now, "I'm not tell you anything about Optimus—"
He chuckled, "—Orion you mean?"
"Eat slag, Megatron!"
"You are remarkable, Arcee. So much passion and ferocity all contained in such a small frame…"He trailed off almost longingly, "I'm afraid such talents are lost on the Autobots…but if you were a Decepticon—"
"—Don't even bother, Megatron. I'd sooner resurrect Unicron the Destroyer than side with you."
"Now, don't be hasty, Arcee. I didn't think that I would live to see the solar cycle when Optimus would humble himself before me, doing my bidding with the words, 'As you wish, my Lord Megatron,' either…yet here we are."
Arcee shuttered her optics, wishing she could block out his words, loathsome and poisoning, for they conjured up the sight of Orion—of Optimus—laying unconscious in Ratchet's medical bay, the Decepticon insignia irrevocably engraved into his shoulder. Unbidden, she could almost hear Optimus' velvet timber echoing the words, 'As you wish, my Lord Megatron…' It was more than Arcee could handle at the moment.
"Slag-off Megatron! Leave me be! I'd rather you hand me over to Airachnid right now then have to listen to you a moment more!"
Surprisingly, Megatron glared at her, snapping, "Don't try my patience, Arcee. It would be nothing to me to step aside and let Airachnid in." Before his words had fully dissipated into the air, Megatron surged forward, one hand snapping out, catching Arcee by her throat in a none to gentle grip, "if you want to avoid such a painful end I'd listen to what I'm offering you."
Swallowing her cry of discomfort, Arcee managed to snarl back, "And that would be?"
Apparently such was what Megatron had been wanting to hear, and he let his hand drop, stepping away, "Since you and I both know that you have no concern for your own spark, I will not demean you by threatening you, since it is wasted effort…"
"—What do you want, Megatron?"
"Orion."
Arcee narrowed her optics, "No."
"Listen to me, Arcee. I am offering you the chance to save, Orion—"
"—Optimus!" She instinctively corrected, but Megatron paid her interjection no heed.
"—If you do as I say, you will save Orion's spark, as well as all of your Autobot companions…"Discerning the resistance rising in her optics once more, Megatron continued, "If you refuse, Airachnid will pull you apart, piece by piece until she pulls the coordinates for the Autobot base from your processor. Once she does, I will blast that base, and anyone in it, into oblivion."
"You wouldn't—not with Orion in our base—"
Megatron again shrugged, "I would rather see him off-lined by my hand than be slaughtered under the Autobots again."
"We would never harm Optim—"
Once again Megatron surged forward, looming in her face, "Never harm Orion? Not like you and your fool of a council did before?"
Arcee's optics went wide, "What are you talking about? The Council gave Orion the highest honor! They made him a Prime!"
"NO!" Megatron thundered with enough intensity that the force of his voice rattled the chains that held Arcee. "They murdered Orion!" He roared, his tone rubbed raw by undiluted emotions that Arcee would never have fathomed the Decepticon Leader of harboring, "Optimus was only ever a traitor, a puppet of the Council's will! But Orion was my brother, the one mech who I could trust, who would never betray me! Optimus destroyed him! He—" Megatron suddenly jerked himself backward, his disgust at having said so much aloud evident in his expression.
He began to turn away from her then, endeavoring to compose himself, but Arcee charged ahead, his own emotional outburst goading her own, " Is that what you think happened, Megatron? That Optimus destroyed Orion? You cant—"
"—You can't possibly think that you could ever convince me otherwise, Autobot." Once again, something more, something powerful and real gave a rougher edge to Megatron's voice as he rounded upon Arcee, "You were not there, you did not bear witness to the moment that Orion discovered the Matrix of Leadership…"Megatron's optics shifted, no longer seeing Arcee, but looking beyond her, into days long past, "…you did not watch as Primus bestowed the Matrix upon Orion…as he changed…and when he turned to face me, there was no recognition…nothing between us…in that moment Orion ceased to be…" coming back to himself, Megatron regarded Arcee once again, "So you see, Autobot, before you had even been sparked, Optimus had already destroyed Orion… your Prime's first act had been to murder the one mech I could ever call brother."
This time, when Arcee returned his gaze, she felt a wave of familiarity riding with his words, something in his expression that reminded her of Optimus, which was revoltingly impossible…but the longer she looked back into that face, that was all hard angles and biting edges, she realized what it was.
There, within the depths of his optics was a world-weariness, one that ran so deep it now gilded his every panel and it hit her then: Megatron was old, ancient even. Like Optimus, he too had spent so many millennia always fighting, always snapping and snarling back, with never any respite. But more than this, unlike Optimus who had been surrounded by those whom he could call friends, Megatron had been entirely alone.
Of course there had always been moments back at base when Arcee had glimpsed beneath Optimus' composed façade, to see the sadness, that same weariness…but those lapses had at least been broken by moments of happiness. Arcee could well remember times back on Cybertron when they had all been gathered together, perhaps celebrating a small victory, and Prime had seemed to be at ease. She had still been young then, but her databanks recalled with ease a scene in which Optimus had been surrounded by those close to him, at peace in the presence of those mechs. One by one their names and faces flitted past her processor—Prowl, Ironhide, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, Jazz, Kup, Perceptor—so many fallen, and so many lost to the stars, leaving too few behind.
But Megatron…
Who could ever dare to call him friend? Try as she might, Arcee simply could not imagine Megatron developing any kind of report with anyone.
At her lapse into silence, it was now Megatron's turn to become wary, "What is it? What are you thinking, Autobot?"
Startled by the suddenness of his question, and still wrestling with this newest revelation, Arcee hastily said the first thing that came to her processor, "I'm…sorry…"
He jerked backward, entirely surprised, "What?"
Just at surprised at herself, Arcee looked back at him, "I'm sorry that you lost Orion…"
The quiet reigned between them then, for it was an entirely unlooked for response, at least from her. But more than this, something within Megatron told him that she was sincere, in that moment, because of his words, she had been moved to genuinely feel his loss.
"…But can't you see that Orion is still apart of Optimus? Maybe if you had stopped and tried to reason you would have realized that Orion isn't gone, isn't—"
Megatron cycled air through his vents in a sigh—another shiver of familiarity coursed through Arcee at the sound, for something within it sounded so much like Optimus—before he continued, his voice once again cold and devoid of feeling, "I do not need your pity."
Just like that, the moment of understanding, which had so briefly spanned the differences and distance between them, was broken. Where she was being sincere, her words only served to once again draw the line between them.
Autobot.
Decepticon.
Two phantoms, which in this war, could never die.
Megatron drew himself to his full, intimidating stature, his stance all too poignantly radiating 'I am Lord of the Decepticons, and you, you are an Autobot' as once again he retreated behind the mask of the monster she had always known him to be.
"Consider my offer, Arcee."
Then he was gone, swallowed up by the gloom, moving silently for a mech of his size, for Arcee didn't even register the door closing behind him. Yet in the aftermath of his departure Arcee did indeed consider his offer, and more importantly, the mech who had extended it.
Of one thing she was certain, at some point in their conversation she had ceased to speak with Megatron and instead had been dealing with Megatronus. Optimus had been right, there was something still there, something that still persisted beneath Megatron's chilling cruelty.
Megatronus…
…Something that could perhaps be redeemed? Optimus had thought so.
Arcee shuttered her optics, trying to block out the terrifying familiarity of the chamber in which she was now captive, and all that it inspired. No, not with all that Megatron had done, all of those Autobots who had met their end at his unrelenting hands could Arcee ever bring herself to truly believe that Megatron could be redeemed…
Autobot.
Decepticon.
Two phantoms, which in this war, would never die.