Huzzah, I'm alive. And whoops, something funny happened there with the updating. Apologies if you received multiple emails and were a bit afraid. xD

If you've read Defiance, you'll know that my whole version of the Transformers history completely diverges from canon. But Defiance was absolutely rubbish, and not just because the artwork was slightly queer. The whole thing was absolutely hateful. These idiots don't even double-check with the already established canon from the first film. It was stated that Megatron and Optimus ruled Cybertron together as twin brothers of the Dynasty, stated. Oh, hello Defiance! Optimus doesn't even know he's a Prime. WHUTTT.

I raged over that graphic novel, I really did.

(I should stop ranting now. Sorry.)

Moving swiftly on before I explode, this is going to be a little more angsty than I first realised- but because I doubt my ability to write a completely angstylicious fic, I won't. It's going to be a Kibbly-angst, which means occasional LULZ + fluff + sudden and unexpected angst.

Ah, sweet life.

Another note; Megatron has blue optics at this point, yeass. This might not have been noted last chapter, but all will make sense in time.

We are not only our brother's keeper; in countless large and small ways, we are our brother's maker.

Bonaro Overstreet

Optimus is worried about Megatron.

There's something different about him now- not that anybody seems to have noticed. This worries Optimus more than anything; the fact that no one else sees.

Because Optimus sees.

But he can't explain, can't help.

It's odd that nobody notices, isn't it?

Then again, perhaps it is not.

Currently he is snuggled in Megatron's arms, as close as he can be to his brother's Spark.

It is comforting.

It is also unspeakably beautiful, and Optimus cannot believe that nobody else can hear it and feel it.

Mind you, he wouldn't want competition; Megatron is his brother, and he would not want any random mech or femme stealing this prized place of proximity.

He does not know what is happening presently, so he has turned his attentions elsewhere.

It is better to spend his time wisely than to struggle to understand that which he cannot.

Megatron and the bright yellow mech are talking. The yellow mech is touching them both occasionally, but as Megatron is compliant, so is Optimus.

The tiny Cybertronian knows that he can trust this yellow mech because not only is he the one who carried Optimus out of the flames, but he also gave him back to Megatron.

Not to mention that he is quite nice to stare at, too.

Optimus coughs suddenly and a small cloud of blackness puffs into his vision, startling him into pressing back against Megatron's chassis with a squeak.

"Not too much physical damage," the yellow mech assures Megatron, who is also highly alarmed. "Surface, mainly."

"Ejection of ash is fine?"

"Better out than in," the other Cybertronian declares.

The cheery lilt to his utterance comforts Optimus, but for some reason displeases Megatron.

"Do you have to be so delightedly cruel and detached about everything?"

"I'm not," Name-less mech replies. "I'll be furiously cruel when I get a hold of your parents."

Optimus is lost again.

He doesn't understand why, and it would be rude of him to interrupt the conversation and ask, so he returns to his research.

Optimus is far cleverer than they think he is- he wonders if it is this way for all sparklings.

He is currently searching databases, curious and desperate to discover about his impromptu guardian.

His searching is fairly slow and laboured, true, but he is learning so much.

From what he has discovered, it should be his creators who are caring for him, but they are not here. They were, but now Optimus does not know where they are. However, it is alright. He has his brother.

And his brother intrigues him.

After a long and hard search, Optimus uncovers holo-pictures of a past Megatron, a younger Megatron. Or is he an older Megatron, an older version?

Musings aside, it seems that his brother has always been withdrawn- he's usually in the background, deliberately hiding or turning away or pensively looking off at some temporarily intriguing sight.

There is something about him.

Perhaps Optimus is already biased, but something is unusual about his Megatron.

He cannot place it.

Optimus delves back further and suddenly Megatron is laughing.

He has been caught unawares, that much is certain.

Optimus does not know who has immortalised this moment, but a smaller Megatron is weak from laughter, blue optics brighter than the moons. He is being supported by another youngling who is also euphoric- though be it from the same cause of Megatron's delight or just that Megatron's laughter is infectious it is again unclear.

Optimus regards this for a time and compares his brother with this older-younger Megatron.

He has never seen Megatron laughing.

True, he has not known Megatron for long, but as he flicks quickly through all the images he has discovered and his brother becomes quieter and increasingly serious, Optimus doubts many have had this privilege.

Optimus returns to this unusual captured instant and studies it. He doesn't want to analyse it- it would be ruined.

He savours it.

What would he give to have a happy Megatron?

Optimus decides right then and there that this is what he wants; he would give his tiny world (as small and unimportant as it was) to make Megatron happy.

And immediately he falls into recharge, straight into the arms of a data-ghost.

Optimus has never had a data-ghost before, so at first he is unsure of what is happening. He seems to be there but simply not real.

There is death here.

Something calls to Optimus deep within his core, the type of which he has felt only once before, not long ago when heatwaves battered his sore dry senses and flames roared around him.

And then he is surrounded by beings at once wonderfully familiar and wholly alien.

And they whisper to each other, but he cannot hear them-

A wind blasts across from his right and the whole world shifts and the beings burst into smatterings of fading light, colours whirling and swirling into ashes as his surroundings reshape themselves into a black and grey mockery of life.

Optimus can do nothing. Just like his real self, he is as limited here as he is there.

He does not observe because observing indicates a detachment somehow, and he is very much a part of this. But he watches.

There is a redness now. It dawns slowly from a solitary epicentre (not too far away) then spreads, slowly rippling across the ashes, creeping towards him.

Optimus is afraid.

Another presence fades into existence nearby and Optimus knows it- knows it just as surely as he knows that as glad as he is of its arrival, no good will come of it now.

The subdued scarlet momentarily weakens to a dim burgundy and diverges.

Perhaps Optimus is wrong? Perhaps he was mistaken and the red is no more?

But a quiet whiteness wraps itself around him, and the slow horror dawns upon Optimus that he has been saved.

Saved from what?

The presence which had noiselessly arrived before is unaware of the colours- or perhaps it is aware but cannot perceive their true depth, for it remains still, just behind Optimus.

Whichever it is, Optimus himself can only watch as the red re-emerges from its brief hiding and flickers across the ashes.

He cannot turn now, or he would plead with the presence to go before it was too late.

The redness floods around Optimus, but his white shield merely shimmers and it surges back, spitting and hissing before rushing at the other target.

There is no protection for this quiet keeper and Optimus cries silently, finally able to turn- but he does not, because he does not want to see the redness consume the other; he somehow sees what is happening without looking. The other is lost before blasting into a furious crimson that hurts his optics and blinds his processor. And there is laughter with the redness now covering the ashes, echoing and fading into existence so suddenly that he could have imagined it.

So when he bolts upright, optics wide and ventilating heavily, it takes Optimus several moments to ascertain that he is in Megatron's arms and that his brother is holding him closely.

Megatron clicks to him softly, noting his distress. "I've got you. It's alright, Optimus."

It isn't, Optimus whispers, staring into the other's optics. Hell is coming.

"A dream?" asks the frowning yellow mech, eyeing him concernedly.

He seems oddly placed, Optimus randomly notices. As if he had rushed over.

"Nightmare, I think," Megatron replies.

No, Optimus says. It was too real.

He must have fallen into recharge whilst they were talking, but had absolutely no idea how long for. But this doesn't matter now; the future is nearly upon them.

Optimus thinks and he thinks, because even the mute must communicate.

In fact, he is thinking so desperately that he manages to lose track of everything, even time and space.

"What's wrong with him?" Megatron is suddenly saying, deep voice suddenly breaking Optimus out of his processor.

Optimus jumps in surprise, blinking rapidly to focus. He isn't being held by Megatron anymore.

This is not good. This is not safe.

Give me back to Megatron, he orders, whistling to emphasise his displeasure. Quickly.

The yellow mech abruptly filling his vision is important, he knows that much. Why doesn't anybody tell him who he is?

Who is he? Optimus demands of Megatron, but his brother is listening attentively to the other adult.

"He is comple-tely distracted. Or bored of this, which he can't be. I'm luminous; I'm exciting for sparklings. I assume he's in shock." A pause. "I want you two to stay here tonight under supervision."

"Where exactly were we supposed to go anyway?" Megatron points out. "Unless you'd cast us out into the ashes of our not-home."

"Haha," the exciting luminous mech replies sardonically. "I'll complete my examination of him tomorrow. He should be more settled by then."

"'Should,'" Megatron repeats monotonically. "It is quite clear already that Optimus doesn't like ordinariness."

"Go away, whiner- and take this wretched thing with you."

Megatron picks him up awkwardly but gently as Optimus looks around for the wretched thing, but he can't see anything.

What is he talking about? Optimus asks, confused. Wretched thing?

"Ratchet is deprived of love," Megatron tells him secretively with a tiny grin. "So he takes it out on everybody. You'll soon grow to predict his insults."

"I'll have you know that I spend a good while creating original abuse," Ratchet mock-snarls.

"Doesn't show," Megatron returns speedily before hastily heading out of the door.

"I'll get you for that," Ratchet was muttering lowly as he followed.

You'll have to get through me first, Optimus threatens whilst peering over Megatron's shoulder. Grr.

Ratchet hears the growl and wrinkles his nasal-plates. "Down, ferocious beast."

Optimus settles back after one last growl and re-snuggles against Megatron's chassis, glancing up as he does so.

A slight smile is gracing his brother's all-too-serious face, and the very sight almost causes Optimus to burst with adoration.

"There," Ratchet suddenly announces, and Megatron enters a fairly large room. "And before you ask, you and your shouldn't-exist sibling are in here for as long as you require it."

His brother is quiet again. "Thank you, Ratch. You-"

The yellow mech rolls his optics. "Shut up, you idiot."

Optimus giggles. He bets that hardly anyone tells Megatron to shut up. He doesn't know what it means, but it sounds amusing.

And after a good while, Ratchet disappears.

Optimus is almost disappointed by this, because Ratchet is amusing and pretty, but his attention is immediately taken by Megatron, who promptly lies down on the berth and plonks Optimus by his side.

No, Optimus growls, and tries to climb onto Megatron's chassis- but as his limbs only wiggle pathetically, he fails miserably.

Megatron faintly notices this plight through interested optics. "What are you doing?"

Up, Optimus orders. On your chassis I feel home! I know I haven't lived long enough to really have a home, but I feel what I think home feels like with you.

Megatron frowns at him.

Optimus sighs in exasperation.

"Did you just roll your optics at me?" Megatron asks disbelievingly.

Did I? Optimus wonders with a small shock of glee.

A moan. "Ratchet has perverted you already."

And as though it is a cautious after-thought, Megatron raises his arm and delicately rolls a giggling Optimus under it until back-first, the sparkling nestles into his brother's side with a soft whistle.

"You had better not be giggling all night," the young mech groan-wails.

I need my recharge too, Optimus points out. It would be ridiculous for me to giggle when I could be spending time growing.

Because now he knows what had to be done.

Optimus has been shown this- this vision for a reason, he is sure, just as sure as he is that this is not just his processor playing games. His Spark weighs heavy, and he is sure that something is wrong.

Something is coming.

He may not understand much because he is a sparkling, but he knows that his brother cannot face this alone.

And so Optimus wills himself to grow because he must save Megatron, and he thinks he knows how.

Because Optimus is afraid for Megatron now, and he cannot help him.

But he can warn him.

I know this was fairly short, but this was the place to stop. Oppy chapters will be short until he grows up some. (x

Thank you for reviewings and addings last chapter. (: It means a lot to me.

And oh dear, poor Optimus. If anybody can decode his dream or guess at the warning he'll give, you're welcome to try.

Your prize?

...Oh, there'll be a prize. I'll notify you if you get it right. ;D

Good luck!