Author's Note: I'm sorry about the long wait! I hope that you continue to enjoy!

Three days since Orion last saw Megatronus and he was kicking himself. It hadn't occurred to him that he should have gotten the silver mech's communicator number. And he didn't! He's so stupid. He had been so infatuated with Megatronus while he was there with Orion, and then he was floating on high thinking about the next time that they would see one another that it hadn't even occurred to him that he should probably find a way to ensure contact between them.

Megatronus said that they would meet up again, so Orion smiled - like an idiot - and nodded, letting him walk away without exchanging information. Orion basically knew where to look - the gladiatorial pits - and Megatronus knew where he lived, but he's not sure of the proper procedure with any of that. It seems strange to just go to the place the silver mech worked and demand his contact information.

"I can retrieve his communicator number from the department of public security," Teletraan says on the third day while Orion was sulking into his afternoon cube. His favored passtime these cycles. "Give me a moment."

"You can't hack into - "

"I have retrieved it," Teletraan cuts him off. "Oh, I apologize. Continue, Orion."

Orion lifts his head from where it was resting on his desk. "That was fast," he murmurs, rubbing at his helm. "You found him?"

"Yes, but he is not registered under Megatronus. So, while looking back through your memory files, I located his original designation as D-16. I took the liberty of altering the files so that he's easier to locate in the future."

Orion's head sparks. "What? Tele- No! Teletraan! You can't just alter official files!" The files from the Archive that have spent most of the morning splayed across his screen just stare back at him accusingly.

"I apologize," Teletraan says easily, not at all contrite. "I will go in and return it to its previous state."

"No, Teletraan!" Orion stresses, wondering how he was going to explain this to Alpha Trion that his friend was altering official files. "No more altering! Alpha Trion will be most cross with me."

"Oh. I apologize, Orion." A pause, then, "What would you like for me to do? I cannot reverse time and undo the alteration. All I can do is go back and change it now. Is that what you would like?"

"Yes," Orion says, then immediately after, "wait, no! No, don't change it. No, he... he doesn't like that name. He... he likes the name Megatronus. Keep that one."

"Very well."

Orion drops his forehelm to the desk again, letting out a loud whoosh of air through his vents. He shutters his optics, shoulders drooping. He remains like that for more astroseconds then he can count before he feels Teletraan brush across his processor, inquisitively. He pulls lightly at the confusion, the internal war raging, the guilt. He plucks it apart to understand it, to follow the connections back to their source.

After a few astroseconds, "Orion?"

"Yes?" he sighs.

"Do you want me to download Megatronus's communications number into your contacts?"

Another sigh. "No. How would I ever explain to him how I got it?"

"I suppose you could tell him that I did it."

Orion rolls his optics. "You think I should tell the mech I am crushing on that I am connected to a hyper intelligent A.I construct that lives in the derelict haunting the great city of Iacon like a dark cloud. And that he broke into a government building's secured system to download his contact information because I was stupid enough to forget to ask for it while the mech in question whose number was illegally obtained was here?"

Teletraan's brushes across Orion's processor is amused, despite his voice not really expressing anything beyond his even tone, "I resent that. I am not haunting Iacon. It was simply where you emerged. And you have been there your whole life thus far. When you left Iacon, I wanted to bring the Ark to your location but you wouldn't approve of it. Any perceived hauntings are of your doing."

An amused huff escapes him as Orion leans his chin onto his palm, optics scanning the information he was supposed to be organizing in front of him. He's been so distracted this whole day cycle that he hasn't been able to really focus on his work like he should. He needs to make sure he gets some work done before Alpha Trion noticed and asked him what was wrong. Orion knew he wouldn't be able to lie.

"That's true," Orion finally murmurs. "Because it happened instantly, didn't it? When I emerged?"

"Yes," Teletraan says. "It was when my dream came to an end, and yours began."

Orion lets out a little huff. "Yes, yes. The dream."

"As you were emerging, I was alerted of our connection. I opened up the quantum space bridge, backtracking your signal. By the time I found you, you were emerging, and your signal was so clear. I felt the brush of your processor for the first time."

Orion smiles, leaning with his knuckles against his temple. "I don't remember a time without you, Teletraan."

"From the moment you took your first in-vent, we were linked," Teletraan says. "It is no surprise that you are unable to summon a memory file of a time in which you and I were not - simply because there is not one."

Orion is quiet for a long time, considering Teletraan's words. He's heard them before, to one variation or another over their lives together. But it hadn't occurred to him until now to ask, "And do you have any memory files from before me?"

"It does not work like that for me," Teletraan says. "There was a time before, yes. But now there is this moment. My existence as far as it matters has been about you. There was a before you and will perhaps be an after you. But for now, all that I am, all that I was and will be, all of it is for you."

Orion's spark warms at his friend's words, the threads of affection brushing against his processor like spindly little fingers. "Thank you, Teletraan, for always being there for me."

"You are welcome, Orion. And thank you for letting me analyze and store the data that you collected in your daily operations."

Orion snorts, smiling. "No problem." His smile falters a bit. "I just... wish that there was something more I could do to help you."

"Help me?" Teletraan echoes in confusion. "I am in no need of assistance, Orion. But if that is your wish, then when I need such assistance, you shall be the first that I request to do so."

Orion laughs, rubbing at his face and turning his optics back to his work. "Okay. Then I will wait until I'm needed."

"Very well." A pause, then, "Would you like the file on Megatronus, Orion?"

Orion stiffens, optics wide. He had forgotten. "No, Teletraan. But, um, thank you for... that."

"Oh, you are welcome."

Three additional cycles later, Orion finally leaves his habsuite to go and further explore the city of Kaon. He had been so wrapped up in the work that he had to get caught up on from the move, to moping over his thoughtlessness and spending way more time than is necessary thinking about the big silver mech that he hasn't taken the proper time to explore his new home.

Plus, he needed to get away from his thoughts, as they were starting to take dark and unwelcoming turns. This small part of him has started wondering if maybe Megatronus realized that they didn't share their communication numbers and chose not to when he left because he didn't want anything more than to go his separate ways with Orion despite the connection that Orion felt between them. Maybe Megatronus didn't feel it like Orion did. Or maybe once he got back to his own habsuite he figured that Orion wasn't really what he was looking for in a potential bondmate.

"Megatronus gave no indication of that in my observations of your memories," Teletraan helpfully interjected after the fifteenth time Orion thought it during his lunch break the cycle before.

"Yeah," Orion sighed. "The idea is that he came to that conclusion after he left."

"Ah. Then I have no data on that."

"It's okay."

Except it kind of wasn't. Orion knew that if he asked, Teletraan would use one of the many methods at his disposal to locate Megatronus - even swallowing his pride and accepting the stolen information - but he felt like he needed a couple rounds in the washrack after just considering it. It felt wrong. The whole thing. Not only was it an invasion of Megatronus's privacy, but blatantly disrespectful. Orion never should have convinced himself to not let Teletraan change Megatronus's name back in the official registry. Despite his speculations on how Megatronus would feel about it, Orion doesn't actually know.

Now he's stuck warring with himself on whether he should just ask Teletraan to go back and change it again. What if he does and that ends up being something that he would have wanted?

To stop himself from going crazy, he decided to go out and explore. Ratchet was very much not a fan of Orion wandering in the city whenever Orion commed him to check in. He has never gone this long without seeing his best friend, and on top of everything, he misses Ratchet - and Ravage - but he knows the cybercat will eventually find his way to Orion.

::What happened? Are you hurt? Send me your internal diagnostics.::

Orion lets out a little huff. He quickly scrambles up the steps back to his hab to lock the door after forgetting and making it a few feet down the street.

::No, silly. I'm not hurt. I've just been couped up in the hab since you left, and I'm finally caught up on work and want to wonder the city. I just... didn't want to be alone.::

"You are never alone," Teletraan says, linking up with Orion's connection to Ratchet, piggybacking effortlessly.

Unfazed, Ratchet confirms, ::I agree. I suppose I should find some solace in knowing that Teletraan is always looking out for you. Hello, by the way.::

"Hello, Ratchet. I have a been monitoring the situation in Dead End, it appears that there isn't a lot of movement around your vicinity."

Ratchet hums. ::Oh good. I just finished up with four back-to-back patients. I could do for a rest.::

That news both shocked him and didn't, but that didn't make it any less alarming. ::Four? Oh, I hope things settle down soon.:: And he did. Four back-to-back patients? Ratchet's clinic often fluctuates back and forth with how busy it is, but that was a lot in such a short amount of time? The crime rate in Dead End has always been unpredictable. Ratchet can go from being really busy, to no patients for the whole day. Still, four patients in such a short amount of time..?

::I do as well.:: Ratchet's voice is even, unbothered, but Orion knows his best friend better than that. He can hear the edge of exhaustion in his words. ::Are you paying attention?::

::Yes, Ratchet. I am paying attention.:: Orion lets out a little laugh, admittedly focusing his eyes on the street in front of him. It's late in the afternoon. Despite that, the streets are bustling. Mechs of all shapes and sizes, colors and frames, and state of repair, move about. The buildings around this street were all habsuites for these bots, but as he gets further away from his temporary habsuite, businesses start to crop up.

His pede knocks into something, sending some garbage down the street. He stiffens, but no one looks at him or condemns him. They just keep going in groups or alone. He had noticed it a few cycles earlier, when Ratchet was still there, and even then, lamented how different that was from Iacon. The streets there weren't immaculate by any means, but they were certainly well manicured compared to here. At least, in the lower districts that Orion lived. The closer one got to the great spires, the brighter and shinier the streets and buildings become.

::You say it so sweetly, yet I don't believe you at all,:: Ratchet says, flatly. ::Teletraan, please look after him.::

"I will." A beat, then, "Oh, should I move the Ark over Kaon?"

::I just... what? Move the..? Move the Ark? That space hulk can move?::

"Of course it can move, Ratchet," Teletraan says easily. "How could I have moved it to Iacon to begin with otherwise?"

Ratchet huffs. ::Good point.::

"Do you think it would be safer for Orion if I moved the Ark over Kaon?" Teletraan asks. Orion can feel the interested brush from his friend across his processor. Teletraan likes Ratchet. Maybe it's because Orion loves his best friend so much that Teletraan's voice always takes on a slightly more affectionate twinge to it whenever they talk, something he doesn't exhibit when speaking to others. Aside from Ratchet and Ravage... and Orion's carrier, once upon a time.

Not that Teletraan talks to anyone else and only ever to the aforementioned people directly through Orion. He piggybacks on Orion's connection to them. He speaks to Orion and it transmits to whomever he's talking to.

:Ah,:: Ratchet says easily. ::I definitely don't think you should move the Ark. I think that is a horrible idea that would insight panic.::

Bots on the streets give him looks as he goes by, as if able to tell that he simply wasn't a fixture usually found around the streets of Kaon. While Ratchet expresses the importance of "definitely never move the Ark" while Teletraan hums, displeased, Orion looks around the streets. It has a feel of the lower districts of Iacon - to a point. The cracks in the pavement, the worn in look of the buildings, the bits of garbage on the ground.

A small part of Orion feels a touch of disappointment, but he's not really sure why that is. There isn't anything wrong with Kaon, everything seems... fine. Maybe his expectations were too high. Maybe he was looking for something that wasn't there. Maybe he had this over inflated sense of what the world has out there for him that he is just letting himself down.

Honestly, what was he expecting?

"You're looking for something that isn't here."

Hearing his thoughts spoken out loud is enough to break the flow of his movement, making him stumble. Orion blinks, coming to a stop. Ignoring Ratchet and Teletraan in his head, he looks over to see an old, withered bot sitting next to a garbage bin down an alley by just a few feet. He was a soft green and orange but was rusting a bit around some of his joints.

"I'm sorry?" Orion says, turning away from the path he was walking to focus on the mech in front of him. He walks over and kneels down next to the old mech, looking into very dim red eyes, one of which is almost completely out. "Are you okay?"

"Pretty mech like you stands out around here," the old mech says. "They're looking at you 'cause there isn't anyone out here with that color scheme. Even I can see you and my optics aren't what they used to be." Megatronus had said something similar to that affect the night cycle they met too.

The mech lets out a laugh that's hoarse and wet. He holds his side and sputters a bit.

Orion runs a gentle servo down the arm of the mech, softly asking again, "Are you okay?" There are a few dents along his chassis that look fresh. While the older mech seemed surprised by the touch, it didn't appear unwelcome.

"You must be from outta town," the old mech rasps, ignoring Orion's question. "None look like you. And any from 'round here know not to talk to o' Breakbolt."

"Why wouldn't they want to talk to you?" Orion asks, casting a careful look at some of the dents and scratches. Some he can tell are old and discolored. Others are definitely newer.

"Talk too much," Breakbolt laughs, and it leads into a cough that rattles his frame. "And on account that no one wants to see the truth."

Orion tilts his head, looking at a bit of rust at the corner of the old mech's mouth, a sign of sickness, and his spark clenches in sympathy. But instead, he asks, "The truth about what?"

"It's all a government conspiracy," Breakbolt says, reaching out a withered servo to press onto the one Orion was using to pet the mech's arm. "They're taking our rights away. Little by little, and we're letting them do it. And we're doing it with a smile on our faces!"

Orion had heard about this. About there being bots out there that believed that there was some big government cover-up about this thing and that. He didn't know anything about it and wasn't exactly big on what all of that meant, but he didn't mind being a soundbox for this mech if he wanted to talk about it. Judging by how hard the mech was squeezing his hand, tensing whenever Orion shifted, as if worried that he was pulling away, the red and blue archivist is starting to get the impression that the mech was perhaps a little... lonely.

Not that Orion blamed him. Here in Iacon, without Ravage and Ratchet, without Alpha Trion and the friends that he still speaks to at the docks, he's a bit lonely himself.

Breakbolt looks a little anxious as Orion pulls back a bit just so that he can sit down on the ground, then something in him relaxes, seeing Orion doesn't plan on going anywhere at the moment.

He pings Ratchet, cutting off whatever he was saying to Teletraan. His friend backs off, gently plucking at his processor while Orion fills Ratchet in on what's going on. All the while, he's nodding and offering little sounds of affirmation while trying to listen to both of them.

At Ratchet's careful guidance, Orion, while still listening to Breakbolt, probes at his favored side with one hand while the other just holds Breakbolt's as he checks the old mech's injuries. Breakbolt doesn't seem to notice Orion's gentle probing, interjecting softly if something hurt or another, all while sharing what he's learning to his best friend over comms. As the old mech yammers away, seemingly grateful that someone was willing to listen to him, Ratchet guides him in basic first aid.

"What happened here?" Breakbolt asks, confused when Orion broke into his long stream of words to softly ask how he got hurt.

Orion nods, giving the servo he's holding a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, how did you hurt your side, Breakbolt?"

Breakbolt's dim optics light up a bit when Orion says his designation and a part of him wonders when the last time it was that someone said it.

"Oh, this? It's nothing. Some bots just don't want to hear the truth, you know? But you get it, sweet bot. You understand." Admittedly no, he didn't. But that was mostly because he wasn't fully listening.

But Breakbolt's term of endearment makes Orion smile at the old mech. "Does your side hurt a lot?"

"Oh this? No," Breakbolt says, shaking his helm. "It was just a solid punch. You see, my plates aren't as sturdy as they used to be."

At Ratchet's insistence, Orion asks, "Any internal damage?"

"Nothing that isn't already healing, sweet bot." He pats Orion's arm with the servo not being held. "You remind me so much of my creation." A look crosses over his features, something remorseful, something sad. Deeper even then that. An ache, a pain that he carries with him.

"It is similar to you," Teletraan's voice in his processor makes him tense up for a moment. "There is a lot of bodily reactions similar to someone exhibiting grief."

Orion brushes against Teletraan to show that he's listening, and he understands what his friend is saying.

Orion grips onto Breakbolt's servo tightly, waiting for dim red optics to meet his bright blue ones. When they do, he softly says, "I'm sorry for your loss, Breakbolt." With his other servo, he grabs onto Breakbolt's shoulder and gives it a squeeze, hoping that his truest and purest sympathies are expressed in that action and on his face. Then, still as gentle as he can, he asks, "Can I take you back to your hab? It can't be good for you to be sitting in this filth."

Breakbolt's dim optics flicker. "Oh, you don't have to bother with me, I'll just..." he looks around, as if lost. His voice is tinged with sadness, clicking a few times before turning dim red eyes back to Orion, hesitant. "Just to my pedes, sweet bot."

Orion nods. He moves into position to help heft the older mech up onto his pedes. He takes the brunt of the green and orange bot's weight, and it worries Orion how shaky he seems to be. Being young and strong, Orion hardly feels the weight. And judging by how little of it there is, Orion wouldn't be surprised if meals were scarce for the sweet old bot.

"I'm new to Kaon," Orion says quietly, waiting for dim red optics turn to him. "Would you recommend a good place for some mid-grade? My treat?"

A flash of apprehension across his field and face, then he seems to see something in Orion's expression that softens the nerves. One of Breakbolt's servo palms at his side and Orion gets the feeling that he knows what the fight had been about.

"I do know a good place..." Breakbolt says, then a smile pulls across his derma. "I could show you..." His optics flicker. "I don't even know your designation."

"Oh, forgive me," he shifts a bit to easily accept the bulk of the slightly shorter and thinner plated mech, "my carrier would be cross with me for my lack of manners. I am Orion Pax."

"Orion Pax, that's a good designation." His red eyes flicker. "My mate, oh, he wanted to name our creation after the stars too. We couldn't agree on one we liked." He smiles, but he's looking off into the middle distance. Orion didn't want to pry. He didn't want to dig into something that is obviously hurting the other mech. Maybe one cycle he'll want to talk about, and Orion would love to listen, but he won't push.

"Let's go get a cube, Breakbolt," Orion says kindly, being sure to support the old mech, but still offering him the ability to talk on his own.

"I would like that. I would," Breakbolt says, a bit more pep in his limp. Red eyes a little big brighter. They exit the alley and make their way down the street for a few klicks before Orion realizes that Breakbolt is still talking. "You know it, don't you?"

Orion's optics flicker. He looks down at the slightly shorter mech. "Know what?"

"It's easy to live under tyranny," Breakbolt says, gripping his arm tightly as they walk. At the inquisitive look on his face Breakbolt smiles. It's not one of mirth but almost a grimace, one filled with resignation. "We choose it every day, Sweet Orion. To live beneath the tyrannical and the cruel. We've done it for so long that we've forgotten what it looks like to not live this way."

Orion had no idea what to say to that. Thankfully, Breakbolt doesn't seem to mind. Ratchet had disconnected at some point, but Orion doesn't recall when. He desperately wishes that his best friend was still there, Ratchet always knew what to say.

"It's easy, you know? Easy to live oppressed and angry. Easy to forget that the life we live doesn't mean that it's the one that we should. Easy to forget about the evil, vile, and cruel tyrants that lord over the lands are always right there, right outside of reach. Easy to forget that the pressure on our helms and backs isn't the weight of the world or responsibility, but the pede of he who stands above us."

Something in Orion is shaken by those words. Something Teletraan grabs hold of, plucks apart to inspect.

"Easy to forget that we can see the cruel optics of a lord that cares nothing for his subjects when we have long since forgotten to even look up."