Aurora tucked her feet under herself, her body leaned against the cushioned arm of her couch. Her eyes scoured through the media reports that she had found on Megatron, her ears hopelessly failing to listen to the movie she had put in. In the background the Goblin King was demeaning Sarah, making her own situation seem as hopeless as her own was as he pointed to the clock and told her she had thirteen hours to save her brother.

She could risk not listening, she knew the movie too well.

The light from her phone illuminated her face as she stared down at the menacing picture that the news photographer had captured. She wasn't interested in the photography though - she already saw him on a daily basis. No, she wanted to the information that the article would provide. Yet nothing she read helped her. Of course they wouldn't. No one stopped to interview Megatron about his actions - why he'd chosen this road. If they had, he wouldn't have stopped to talk. They probably would have been incinerated on the spot by him or one of his devout followers.

She took a bite of her sandwich and scrolled articles in her Psychologists Weekly website. Her finger pressed on the screen as a familiar name popped up. Dr. Yark. It was an article with his photograph, one that had been taken with Megatron sitting idle, a glare in his optics, behind him. It was written about him and his findings during his journey.

She sat up and paused the movie, her finger clicking into the article.

Into the Mind of a Psychopath

By Dr. Yark

We all know by now who Megatron is. He is the leader of the infamous Decepticons who were a part of the complete destruction of their world and parts of ours. It has long since been thought that he was murdered in the last battle for our world between the Autobots and Decepticons. In truth, a truth that was not allowed to be spoken until now, he is not dead. He is neither able to inflict wrath upon our species. He is held in a high security prison where, for the past five years, talented psychologists like myself have been tasked with digging into his mind. We have worked to learn his secrets. Who he was, how he became the warlord he is today, and most importantly, his knowledge on war. While dissimilar interviews with a very free Optimus Prime yielded results in fascinating findings about war and how we can fight it, that information is nowhere near as vital to the information we can get about the other side. He is as vile and decrepit as those who we face against in humanity. To know his mind would to know theirs and in turn, extinguish our wars before they could ever begin. Yet, what does the mind of a Psychopathic alien look like? That is a true question that may never be answered. While I spent the better of eight months with him daily, analyzing him, speaking with him, interviewing him, I found a lack of useful information. He is heavily guarded with anger and deflection of his own past. When I thought that I might have dug into an opening, I saw a monster. I did not go in with hope of redeeming him, as no self respecting psychologist should do, but of course there is wonder in that idea. I never once saw in him moments of repentance or saving. He is a dead soul walking among the living - I fear he died with his own planet Cybertron. . .

Aurora scrolled through until she realized the article wouldn't yield any good information. It was a lot of something to say a lot of nothing. Most of it was him patting himself on the back for a job well done. A job that gave way to nothing as it was passed down to her. Her head leaned back into her cushion and she sighed. Megatron was hardly giving her anything.

Two days.

Her eyes clenched. Two days wasn't enough for anything. In fact, what she got today was probably further than any other psychologist ever got before. And it was as far as she was going to get for the foreseeable future. Not until he trusted her - as she'd so kindly put to Deagon.

She groaned, her head knocking against the cushion. He was her boss and yet there was something so natural that she hated about him. His demeanor, how he seemed to antagonize Megatron as if he were a toy to be played with. Did he not realize that if the mech got out of those chains, he would be the first to die? It at least would spare her some time to get out before he killed her.

Staring up at her ceiling she prayed. This was not going to be easy. She needed everything she could get. Megatron would not be twisted into revealing truths. He would not be tempted into sharing about his past. He would have to do it of his own volition and she would have to break down heavy barriers to get there. Deagon was not so willing to wait.

That was why he was a Warden and she the psychologist. If she wanted to build trust with the warlord, she had to show him that she was not his enemy. To do that she would have to make choices that went against Deagon's ideologies. The first thing she'd have to get rid of was the button. It furthered the belief of monster to everyone who ever saw it. And it gave power to those who should not be wielding it.

Tilting her head back down she stared at the TV. Hoggle was in the middle of zapping a fairy when she'd paused it, Sarah in the background searching for the way into the labyrinth. Aurora stared until her eyes hurt and her brain felt fuzzy. She had one idea but it could land her in a kind of trouble that could boot her from this job. Yet. . . Yet. . . It could work. Deagon would never trust her, but it may build a foundation of trust with Megatron. No matter how small, all she needed was one footing.

Aurora let out a deep breath. She'd done crazy things before to get clients to trust her. Some failed, but many times those odd ideas worked. It was a show that she was willing to step outside of the lines of carefully constructed boxes in order to show them she was on their side. And if that's what Megatron needed, then that was what she was going to do.

Setting her phone down she played the movie. That would be a job for tomorrow. For now, she would revel in her good idea.

—-

Aurora came early today. She'd sat in her idea all night long, siphoning out all the ways it could go bad and landing on one way that would probably keep her alive. And in less trouble at that. Deagon had given her slightly large purse a side eye, but otherwise didn't question it. After all, psychologists were often known for trying new things to get their difficult clients to open up.

Taking in a deep breath at the door, she nodded to the soldiers. They nodded back and opened it. With another breath, she stepped inside. Megatron watched her carefully, his optics following her as she went for the box on the wall. She made out a slight flinch in his body as she reached for it. And with it, his optics bore a heavy weariness that she hadn't seen before. How horrible was the shock in this thing anyway to make a warlord brace for it?

She walked silently with it in her hand, the box heavier than she remembered from when Deagon had first handed it to her. It was unnerving that in her hand she held the power to break down another living being. As she carried it she could feel her hands shaking. There was a part of her that feared slipping up and somehow pressing the button. She didn't need him to think that she was actually going to use it on him. It would defeat the whole purpose of this action.

Her lungs caught a breath when she set it down onto the table with an echoing clunk. She could feel his optics on her, boring holes through her skin and down into her very soul. Looking up, she sat down at the chair and placed a small pack made of fabric opposite the box. "Good morning Megatron." She pulled the pack closer to her and unlatched the velcro. Inside were small tools her father had gifted her when she had first moved out on her own. As an electrician, he'd taught her everything she'd needed to know to take care of her own house in that respect.

She thanked him now for the skills that would aid her in a way she'd never thought would happen.

"How are you doing this morning?"

She could see his lip lifting as he snarled down at her. "Have you learned your lesson, human? Finally realized I am beyond redemption and that you must subdue me to survive these interrogations?" His voice was off today. She had only talked with him two days, yet she could hear a rasp, as if sickness had taken hold of him.

She pulled the box closer to herself and laid it on its side. "No, actually." Her voice was sweet and calm despite her heart shaking behind her ribcage. It felt like it wanted to bust out and run a marathon around her. Taking the small screwdriver, she began to work at the screws in the back of the box, undoing them one by one. "I'm here to help you. If this is what it takes, then so be it." She glanced up at him and studied his expression. Or lack thereof. He was studying her actions with an indignation of misunderstanding.

Silence drifted between them for the time it took her to unscrew the whole back - which had taken far longer than she'd expected. Clearly whoever designed this box wanted to make it annoying for anyone trying to get in. Mission accomplished. But it wouldn't stop her.

She pulled the box around so she could see the insides of its back, keeping her fingers far from the button so not to press it.

"What are you doing?" his voice was deep, a question that was filled with malice and twines of curiosity.

"I'm helping you." she pulled the bunched wires out enough so that she could see them. Red, white, and green stared at her in a mesh of wiry guts. She reached for her rolled out tools and grabbed her gloves. They slid over her hands with ease, their fabric warm from being tucked inside with the other tools. With them on she grabbed her insulated pliers and wire caps. "As you're seeing," she began to talk, trying to take the growing feeling of awkwardness their silence was bringing them. "I'm not one for using violence to help people. Shock therapy was popular in the nineteen-forties. Although safer today for people," her hand swung around as she talked, the pliers flinging around with her movements. "It's not always popular with people. Your kind of shock though," she chuckled nervously. "Well, I'd certainly say it's not working." Pulling at the wires she cut the red one first. Grabbing at the caps she quickly worked to screw them on so that the live energy had nowhere else to go. Pulling at the white wire she cut it, capping each end as she had the red. "There." Tucking the wires back into the box she settled the back on top and began to work at placing the screws back into place.

"What is the purpose of this?"

"You'll find a lot less pain in your future, Megatron." she tightened the first screw and looked up at him. "This stupid box is nothing more than a power trip for people who feel defenseless around you. I don't think it's right. So I've cut the power. Here's what I suggest though," she began screwing in the others. "You don't let them know this things power is off, and neither will I. We need them, specifically one person and I'm sure you know who I'm talking about, to think that it still works. They'll just fix it up if they know and we'll be back to square one. Just do whatever you normally do when they press this button."

"I do not fear that device."

She paused mid-screw but bit back her tongue on what she had seen when she'd walked in. "I know you don't. I'm talking about the typical involuntary things that living beings do when they get an insane amount of volts chucked into their system. Think you can do that on command?" She paused on the fourth screw and looked at him again.

His gaze had not softened but she didn't let it deter her. "You are naive to believe they won't figure this out."

"They might." she shrugged, working on the screws again. "But maybe they will after you've worked on yourself a little bit. At that point, they won't have any excuses to use it on you."

He laughed.

Aurora stopped mid-screw again and looked up at him. He was laughing. At her. Her lips pursed into a frown. "Did I say something funny?"

"You are a hopeless human." his voice grew dark, the laughter gone. "You believe that I can change? You believe they will see a good in me that I do not possess. . ." his head turned away, his optics staring at the wall. "Not anymore."

Aurora tucked her supplies back into the bag. Pulling at the fingers of her glove, she observed him. He was somewhere distant again - drowning in memories he refused to share. Ones she was sure he had thought were long forgotten. "People don't forget the events that change them, Megatron." her voice was soft, as if she were talking to her cat when he was scared. "They live with us for the rest of our lives, whether they be there to encourage or haunt us. Either way, we cannot go through the memories of them alone - even if in that time, we had no one. If you want to even see a future away from this-" her arms stretched out to point at the walls, drawing his attention back to her. "Then you need to stare at those events and face them with a new reality that though they changed you, there can be change again." Her heart hammered in her chest at the way he glared at her - as if he could break the chains any moment and snap her body between his digits.

She had to remind herself that his shackles were autobot technology, forged for the purpose of subduing Megatron. It would take an act of God for him to escape.

"You are naive, human, to believe this act of kindness will break me down. I am past redemption," his voice was dark with anger. "I have not only witnessed manipulation, I have defined it. I have not called my kind Decepticons for the sheer thrill of the name - but because it embodies the core of who I am, who I have become. I accept the title with pride and I will not turn on it because one human," he spat. "Showed sympathy."

Her ankles crossed as she watched him carefully. "I'm not here to take away your identity, Megatron. I'm here to help you find it again."

"I never lost it."

"No. No, you didn't. But you buried it, under an anger that had once been righteous, but became darkened with age. Who you were- are, is buried and I'm not here to take apart what you've become to make you into that kind of man again. I'm just here to give you the shovel so you can dig through the pain and hurt to find him yourself."

His glare intensified, his body stiff, his lips quivering with a snarl, as she kept her eyes locked on his own optics. She wasn't going to back down. Day three and she had made a choice to defy her boss in hopes it could chip at least one piece of Megatron's shell. The revelation on if it did or not would not happen overnight. No. Clearly he was one who needed to process things before coming to conclusions about them. Her own brother had been like that, his processing amplified after his stint in their war. She understood this kind of way of thinking. She pursued clients who often exhibited that mindset because watching her brother forced her to understand it. Megatron may have been thirty times her size, but he was no different than any other war veteran.

He was broken. He was lost. Most importantly, whether he accepted it or not, his forgotten self was searching for a way back to the surface. She could see it in the way he didn't move, how his optics kept boring holes into her eyes and then flickering to the box. They would linger on the box, as if his mind wandered somewhere else with the image of it.

"Press the button." his words came from nowhere and she blinked at him. "If you are speaking the truth and not lying to me, then prove it." he nodded forcefully toward her. "Press it."

She glanced down at the box. She'd severed the wired connections that sent energy through it and to him. But. . . She gulped. What if there was a failsafe? What if she had not done it correctly, though she knew the correct order of cutting wires. Her father was sure to ingrain that in her since she was old enough to cut paper. Her hand hovered near the box, but didn't press down.

"Go on," he urged darkly. "Are you afraid I'll come after you?" he chuckled. "End your life before you can torment mine? Or are you afraid you are not good at the things you believed you could do? That you will have betrayed whatever meager trust you think you've garnered with me with this failure?"

She gulped, her mouth suddenly going dry. Licking her lips, her fingers gently pressed the top of the button, not hard enough to deliver a shock. She didn't know if she could do that. She could feel him watching her, expectantly waiting for her to prove that she had failed horribly at her offering of peace.

"Press it!" He barked and her hand shoved down onto the button.

Her eyes stared at him, expecting to see the small signs that had come whenever Deagon pressed it. The flickering of his optics, the twitch of his digits. Nothing. It had worked. She chuckled nervously, tears building at the edge of her eyes. Blinking them back, she shoved the box away from herself and took a deep breath. "See," she confessed with another breath. "You can trust me. I may be human, but I am not Deagon. I am honest with my word."

"Honesty will only get you so far." he leaned back, watching her closely. "A thousand honest truths will be overshadowed by one meager lie."

"You're right." she gathered her things when she heard the door creaking open behind her. "But I don't intend to lie to you, Megatron. You want the truth, ask it and I'll give it to you. I want our conversations to be that, a conversation. See it as such and you might start to realize that not all of humanity is as horrible as some make it to be."

Deagon stepped up onto the platform and came next to her as she stood from her chair. "I see you finally came about your wits," he smirked, nodding at the box.

She picked it up and shoved it into his hands. "A precaution for the discussion we had today. Don't get too excited. Why are you here?"

"Yield any good results today, doctor?"

She bit back her tongue and tried to keep her eyes from rolling. "You know I can't speak about that with you."

Something dark flashed in Deagon's eyes and she turned her gaze from him to the door, wishing she could escape his presence.

"Megs and I had a discussion last night," he set something down on the table with a loud clunk, the Wardens eyes lingering on the mech, a smirk twisted at the corner of his lips.

Aurora turned to look at the brick object. Her mouth opened to question him about it, but he continued.

"Didn't we?" he looked over at Megatron. "There was something you wanted to share with the good doctor."

She turned her eyes to Megatron. He was glaring at Deagon with an indignation that made her wonder if he truly could snap out of those restraints just to kill him.

"Go on." Deagon's voice grew dark. "Share."

Megatron sat in silence, his size growing as he straightened himself again.

"What did he want to tell me?" She turned her attention back to Deagon? She watched as the man's fist clenched at his side, the other one holding the box becoming white around his knuckles.

"He knows the consequence for not sharing. And it's not anything I can say on his behalf."

"He'll come around in his own time then," she brushed past Deagon, her arm pressed tightly around the opening of her bag. She noticed his eyes staring at it for a moment, and she knew the question was floating in his mind on what she brought.

"I would prefer him to share it now." he growled.

With her back to him she stopped, a deep sigh stuck in her chest. "And I would prefer him have autonomy over his own choices. You've taken his freedom, don't take his voice."

She felt a hand wrap around her upper arm, Deagon's fingers pinching her skin. Her eyes turned back to him, their gazes connecting. "He forfeited his right to a voice when he tried to decimate our planet."

Yanking her arm from his grip, she let out a snarl of her own. She could feel Megatron observing them - his optics like lasers pointed on her back. Seeing the bickering could further his beliefs on humanity - if she was going to preach hope he had to see it. "I'm leaving, if you would like to walk with me and talk about this more." she trailed down the stairs, Deagon close behind.

They walked, leaving the room, turning hallways until she could see the elevator. They were far enough away that she knew Megatron couldn't hear through the thick metal walls. Turning to the Warden she slipped off her lanyard and shoved it into his chest. "I need you to understand something, Warden." Her words were poison spitting from her mouth. "I am not here because I care for him. I know it must sound like it to you, that I see him only as a broken and innocent soldier forged by war. I know who he is. We've all heard the stories by now. War did not create him, he created war. And I've been doing this job long enough to know that if I walked in with guns blazing, I would lose him instantly. That's not what I'm trying to do. You want results, answers, and information and I can't get that until he sees me as not the enemy. My choices toward him, my words toward him are not friend to friend, but paid psychologist to gigantic warlord." She straightened up, Deagon's hands wrapping around the lace of the lanyard. Her finger pointed back toward where they had come from. "Respect my position or your last chance to get what you want from him will walk out of this building and never come back."

He raised his hands, his lips pressed together in a thin line. "Alright. I guess I gotta trust you then."

She rolled her eyes this time and turned away. Pushing out each breath, she waited for the elevator. When its door swung open for her, she stepped in and dared not turn around, not unless she wanted him to see the anger pulsing through her expression. It descended and she let out a deep sigh. There was a part of her heart that felt for Megatron - what good psychologist wouldn't? But she knew he was not an innocent life broken down by time and war. On the other hand, if she truly wanted to break his shell, she had to believe what she was telling him. He was right in that one lie could break a hundred honest truths. She couldn't let that happen. She had to see him in a way no one else did. She had to accept him and she would. If he was to see light one day, then she'd have to see it for him until he found it himself.

Hello readers! Thank you for reading so far into my fiction. Break has ended and work has begun again, which means I am hitting the group running. I will be working to upload at least one chapter a week. Thank you again for reading!