002 "Chapter 2" by Abraxas 2010-06-01

At the base the mood was grim spurred by everything from the light - kept weak and gray - to the whisper that echoed quietly, discreetly between Cybertronians. That appearance of defeat without was a reflection of a turmoil within. It was a year yet a dream compared to eons. A year yet the pain was fresh as if yesterday. Decepticons reeled at the death of the Fallen and the resurrection of the Prime.

"My Lord Megatron - if I - but..." it was Starscream - a wave of the finger silenced (but did not deter) the robot. "But? But!"

"And must you complain about everything?" Megatron trained an eye at the commander. A red point. A black abyss. The sound of it focussing shattered like thunder the clatter of the base. "I do everything already..."

Starscream nodded and seemed to retreat further into the shadow and darkness of the corridor.

Megatron shuddered reminded - suddenly - of an image without context. It was a record called out of a million years of life he stored. A tiny young robot melting into onyx while he reached toward it. Save it? He could not say.

Another word about their state of affairs would have been enough to break. It was madness. All of it. Autobots did not fall apart without the Prime yet they could not endure a year without the Fallen?

He felt the need to run and find a corner of doom at peace - free of Starscream! That robot did not strike a chord of confidence especially after Egypt. He wondered if that attitude was not the cause of their general lack of morale.

He strolled through the base gazing about its vast, underground chambers with a scowl. Like an enigma he moved to and fro vexing everything (and everyone) he found along the way. Nobody suspected his motives. Questioned his intentions as wrong. At least wrong beyond usual. He was a mystery to the others and that was how he wanted it. There was something hidden behind the stress he suffered and the isolation he craved - as relief.

That distance was a cover and under it he consumed the forbidden. Their prying eyes did not know. He was not abandoning their cause and did not intend to compromise their adoration. He was and would be, forever, their Megatron. But...if they knew...and he were tainted by it...how they would be looking at him with their respect fled!

Megatron could not endure the thought of that.

Until he found a way to voice it he opted to retreat - disturbed that the coward's way out was rubbing off on him. That, too, would not do. He was torn like he had been at the start of the war eons ago. He was not ashamed of emotion and the way it was directed. Everyone knew about Orion. Where he went (and what he did) there was scarcely a precedent and many would be dissatisfied.

He would have agreed - the situation was improbable at best - it was just that when they crossed the line of decency every pulse of spark demanded that it was not only perfect but irresistible. When metal met flesh, that moment they shared, erased the distinctions that separated them and they were as if a single unit. He could not fathom the extent and completeness - and the power - of that connection. Nor understand the aim of it. There was no logic with love.

What they shared was not a weakness. Indeed, it was the opposite! Although to another the intimacy could have been mistaken as such.

He scanned the area - alone at last. The secrecy felt cowardly. Sneaking in and out of the base. Still, there was nothing wrong with discretion.

END