Desperate

This bunny bit hard and wouldn't leave me alone, hard as it was to get the words right. Hope ya'll like it.

Related to the 'Personnel Duty' series, though stands alone. Warnings for mech on mech action.

The High Council had permitted the word 'genocide' to enter the news feeds at 1.5 million deaths. That was 3 million deaths ago, and the Decepticon movement behind Megatron showed no sign of relenting in their merciless acquisition of territory, resources and body count. Less than a century was all it had taken for Cybertron to divide into violent eruptions the likes of which had never been seen before. It was unprecedented, demonstrating a barbarity that the Cybertronians had thought themselves long evolved from.

And Optimus knew in his spark that it was not going to end soon, nor improve in any way without something drastic happening. On the day when that drastic measure was grudgingly to be taken, only the Prime and Ratchet as his medical officer knew of it. To Ironhide, Jazz, and everyone else in their unit, this was just another attack, another attempt to weaken Megatron's stranglehold by taking back an energon production facility so that it would no longer serve the Decepticon forces.

On the face of it, the mission was entirely regular. A stealthy, carefully-executed approach lasting until their tactical plans inevitably went to slag and it descended into a straightforward, physically brutal battle. The Decepticon soldiers would be split apart and individually tackled so that they had less of an opportunity to converge on single key figures, pounded upon with ongoing and ever-more-personal grudges. Optimus and Megatron would, ultimately, somehow, end up going toe-to-toe alone, isolated from the others by the ferocious power they could lay into one another that any intruding bot was likely to be inadvertently crushed by.

The key difference was that today Optimus was seeking to be alone with Megatron, had planned to trap them in a storage room of the processing plant away from Autobot and Decepticon alike. Ratchet was seething no less now that the plan was being executed than when it had first been proposed almost a year ago. It hadn't evolved much over that period of time, its core as unsavoury and morally dubious on the verge of execution as it had been in half-processed conception.

Skidding to a halt beside Sideswipe, whom had taken the brunt of Starscream's last volley, Ratchet transformed and set about field-patching the worst of the damage in stony silence. The dark mech beneath his hands lay noiseless and still, anxious of the medic's quiet which was always indicative of serious and pressing concerns. He hadn't thought he was that damaged, but watching Ratchet's bright optics in profile he found no reassurance.

Ratchet was barely concentrating on the patch job, the extra monitors he'd forced Optimus to have installed feeding in to his processor that the mech had broken from the fight and was leading Megatron away. It was too late to go back, but he had to protest until the last. – Prime, this is beyond asinine. Even if we set aside the deplorability of what you're going to do, the chances of this working if he doesn't slag you are a trillion to one.–

On the other side of the facility, Optimus tore open a loading bay door to break inside under the pretence of using the electrolysing rods as a weapon against Megatron. – And it is a chance that I will not overlook if it may stop the slaughter – he transmitted back, pausing in a long corridor to check his schematics. He didn't need his sensors to tell him that the Decepticon leader was close. Megatron had been following him for the last five minutes, cackling at Optimus's apparent cowardice for retreating from the main body of the battle.

Breaking off a piece of the surplus armour on his hip to fashion a support part, Ratchet knelt onto Sideswipe's chassis to keep him still for the weld. – I've never heard that cleansings can remove evil from a spark, Optimus, - he went on with a grimace, dentals gritted.

- There must be something wrong, some misalignment or poisoning of energy for him to lead such atrocities, - Optimus bit back as he stopped at the storage door and began setting charges around its frame. This was the crux of his hope, what had pushed him to overcome the blasphemous use of what many saw as the holiest ability of a Prime. – No Cybertronian could do this if he were not sick in the spark. –

Ratchet bowed his head at the pained response, pinching between his optics to hide his reaction from Sideswipe. It was not the fear of failure that had him attempting to talk his Commander out of this act, but a moral fear. What Optimus planned to do went against everything of their core values, and he feared that it would be the first step to the mech's own downfall. And there was nothing to say that his spark wouldn't absorb anything from Megatron's own tainted one and become poisoned itself. If that happened, then truly, he thought with a shudder, they would all be lost.

The weld secured, Ratchet moved back and slapped Sideswipe's shoulder to communicate over the din that he was fit to go back. Not wasting a second in getting away from the medic's dour stare, Sideswipe tore away without a backward glance. - And what if you can't heal his spark? What if you do get his chest plates open and find the mark of the Unmaker there instead? Primus, what this could do to you…-

Optimus couldn't help but smile a little at that as he knelt in the dark, close to the wall by the door and ready to spring onto Megatron. - That is why I have worked with you and not tried to do this alone. - His expression hardened as he produced the heated grappling hooks from the transformation pods on his forearms, preparing to hook the bulkier mech and bring him down. The closer this came to actually happening, the colder and harder his spark seemed to pulse. - I fear that whatever happens I shall be in need of a medic after this. –

Ratchet inferred the trembling depth to those words, the unease being smothered by the true belief that this sacrifice of morals was potentially a sacrifice that could save millions. With just the two of them aware of this plan, it was his duty to be the voice of reassurance, non-judgement, and perhaps even comfort in the aftermath.

- Just… Don't let him too far in, and for frag's sake don't let him glitch your processor. –

Stillness across the channel. Ratchet couldn't describe it as mere silence.

- He's here. – It was flat and unreadable. A statement of fact.

Ratchet sighed with shuttered optics and had to remind himself that whatever happened now, he was still amidst a battlezone and didn't have the luxury of simply waiting. Pushing himself up to his feet, he caught sight of part of Bumblebee's shoulder in Ravage's jaws. The yellow scout was in pursuit, and he cycled up his circular saw.

- Good luck. I'll be ready. –

Optimus had terminated the communication channel just as Megatron reached the threshold of the door, the readying of his systems transmitting clearly across Ratchet's monitors. He had no qualms with the medic having a running commentary of what was happening between their bodies. Some part of him took comfort in having an objective witness who could comb through the data afterwards, to tell him that what had happened was acceptable within the parameters they had set. Unease over the clinical observation fluttered through his spark when the big mech stepped into the room, and he had to force it to flare and surge in preparation for a merge.

He blew the charges and lunged forward in the same instant, slamming the energon hooks into Megatron's chassis as his body was pushed forward by the blast. They landed in a twisting heap, Optimus on top, and the entrance to the corridor behind them collapsed and trapped them together. Exactly as planned.

Megatron grinned with a feral engine roar at finding the Autobot leader so willingly in his grasp, punching into the sharp faceplate with one hand whilst the other grasped at the gaps between armour to begin pounding and pulling at components. "I'm appalled, Prime," he crooned through his teeth, "If you have a death wish, you should die in front of your army."

"Not a wish for death, Megatron," Optimus replied tightly, optics narrowed as he forcibly bypassed the damage alerts and pain to get one hand up beneath the mech's chest armour. Amidst fluid lines flecked with scars and components thick with welds, he did not pull or claw, but found a neural line and stroked. It was a calculated move, underhanded but effective in disarming an opponent with shock for precious seconds.

The response was instantaneous: Megatron arched stiffly with wide optics before abandoning his assault, trying to shove the other mech away from him. Optimus fought to keep his hand over that sensitive point, his thumb resting over the translucent line whilst he forced the hook on his other arm into the central seam of the silver chassis. He'd decided that there should be no false intimacy in this, no attempts to stimulate an aroused response even if it did make the merge easier. Whilst a sparkmerge with the Prime would always mean a cleansing, a cleansing merge didn't have to be sexualised.

When Megatron regained himself enough to fight back, he quickly found himself jerking again as more sweet spots that scant few knew about were brought to electrical life. Optimus knew his body so well.

Before this war had begun, the Lord High Protector had spent a great deal of time with the Prime, both subjected to daily stresses and emotional wear. It was entirely expected that there would be semi-regular cleansing merges between them, at first simply to fine-tune Optimus's skills in the act. What neither of them had predicted was how spectacularly good their sparks were together, almost synchronized in harmonics but dancing ferociously around and through one another. It soon turned into more straightforward interfacing than cleansing merges, though Optimus had no choice but to swell out his spark and engulf Megatron's own in its white heat every time. When hostilities were just beginning to arise and they met on less and less amicable terms, the frequency of their merges became infrequent up until they simply stopped. It had made the last few times particularly spectacular, and Optimus had to make an effort to force the memories from his mind as he drew the thick chest plates apart.

"What are you doing?" Megatron bellowed with a hiss, torn between fighting the hook out of his armour to close his chassis and getting that skilled hand off of his electrified lines.

The outraged question iterated the degree of violation he was inflicting, and Optimus felt a fresh sickened wave crash through him. This was not sexual. He was only stimulating the mech's lines to distract him enough to force open his chassis and expose his spark. It was not erotic. This was not rape.

It felt the same, though – it was a despicable and monstrous tactic to force the exposure of even an enemy's spark and to then force a merge. Millions dead, though, and doubtless there would be millions more if the war did not stop soon. Their race was far from extinction but it was a possibility, and as Prime Optimus had a duty to protect his people, even if it was at the cost of himself. It disgusted him that he could do this, but he clung to the hope that there was some black vein running through Megatron's spark. Something that was making him do these terrible things, and that could be washed out against the will of the monster it had made. And then Megatron, healed and returned to the sharp but noble being he had been before the genocide, might thank him.

Optimus didn't meet Megatron's optics, focussed wholly on the spark casing he was gradually exposing. "I'm sorry, but you've left me no choice. I have to try."

Megatron stilled as realisation began to emerge, pushing aside the shocked outrage that had come from the unexpected touches. Quickly scanning the Prime's chassis to confirm it, he narrowed his optics when he found the familiar energy swollen and broiling. "You're trying to cleanse me, Prime?" The audacity of it made him cackle, delighted at the desperation of this misguided act almost as much as the obvious self-loathing he could see in the younger mech. "You fool – there's nothing wrong with my spark."

When clawed hands settled on his shoulders Optimus met the silver mech's optics, expression torn behind the mask. Megatron was no longer fighting him off but holding him still. Calculating. The energon hook of his left hand pried into the central seam of the thick armour, though he found he didn't have the energy in that instant to pull. It was somehow worse to have Megatron watching him do this without resisting. "The millions you've murdered-"

"Unavoidable casualties of war, a war that must be waged if the new Cybertron is to be born from the ashes of the old," Megatron cut in with a growl, hands clenching hard enough to dent the bright armour beneath the tips of his claws.

Optimus shook his head and returned to prying open the plates with renewed determination. "You're insane."

A barked laugh. "You're planning to cleanse that out, too?"

The slim mech didn't deny it, which solidified his suspicion completely. Megatron fell silent as he studied the Prime, recognising the grim and resolute intent from combat now holding the strong frame taut over him. They'd been arranged like this before in entirely different circumstance, superheated air mingling from their vents as they strained and ground. Their sparks had been exquisite together, and against one another like this, the memory was close to his processor.

Tempting, Megatron acknowledged privately as the motors in his chassis groaned, keeping the plates shut. And perhaps worth indulging. He knew there was nothing wrong with his spark and that a cleansing merge now would have no more an effect on him than it had ever had. This was a desperate move stemmed in naive hope on the Prime's part, and he was clearly wrestling with his conscience to carry it out. Perhaps he could turn this wholly to his advantage, the Decepticon concluded. Glitch Optimus by making him do everything he was trying to avoid in forcing this smarkmarge.

Megatron smirked a long moment, silent and thoughtful, before finally lifting his hands from the mech's body and holding them out in exaggerated surrender. It was surprising enough to slacken the hook and allow him to force his chest plates closed again, the blue optics flaring wide. "Go ahead, Prime. I won't stop you."

A purring lilt had slid into Megatron's voice, and he shifted in a fluid undulation to feel the edges of their armour catching in richly familiar ways. Optimus flinched, which was enormously encouraging, and Megatron shifted his hands through the mech's dumb limbs to play across his hips. "You remember how good we were before. It seems fitting to have one last overload out of you before I tear your philanthropic spark out of its casing."

Optics shuttering despite the danger in this proximity, Optimus forced the tingling sensation aside. "I don't want…" he began tightly, finally shaking his head with a hard sigh. The mech beneath him shifted again with a smirk, encouraging and teasing.

He hadn't anticipated anything like this. Megatron wasn't supposed to be willing, but faced with it now it was an incredibly temping alternative to physically forcing him to reveal his spark. Purposefully, his processer skirted the word 'consensual'. Another shift that rocked their stabilising gyros, pressed neural lines and sent charges leaping between the spaces where their protoform almost touched. He met the liquid stare with a hard gaze, jaw tight, and his voice came out strong. "If you're so confident that it'll have no effect, bare me your spark, Megatron. You have my word that I'll do nothing else to it."

It was almost a victory, almost giving in, and Megatron leered anew. "No, you're going to have to earn it," he crooned, tracing one hand up from the slim base of a finial to its tapered, electrified end. He continued the motions as Optimus thought with closed optics, tortured and so nearly at the whim of his hands. Finally the mech over him nodded, once and slight, just enough to commit himself, and Megatron seized the finial in his fist and dragged his helm down.

The pressure of Prime's mouth against his was cold and emotionless, only going through the motions of the ferocious kisses they had lost hours to in another time. He growled and bit down hard to convey that he was neither fooled nor impressed. Optimus made a low sound before apparently resolving himself, kissing with something more like passion and pressing their bodies closer.

They continued their heady refamiliarisation of teeth and glossa for long minutes, until a fresh round of explosions shook the building from the battle site. Optimus tore his mouth away with twisted plates, optics narrowed. "Stop this. I just want to help you."

Megatron sat up a little and guided the scarred jaw back down to his own, replying millimetres from another brutal kiss. "Keep saying that if it helps, laughable as I find your demure protests." As encouragement, he allowed his chest plates to unlock and open fractionally against the brightly coloured chassis, bringing a hand to the Prime's interface panel in the same moment and clasping for access. "This was your idea, Prime, and you've long been begging me to settle for compromises."

Optimus hesitated momentarily before releasing the catches, reiterating for himself that he –had- started this and that this was a far preferable means of achieving his goal than wrenching the Decepticon's spark exposed. And as much as he loathed admitting to it, it felt good. There had never been any caution between them over what the other could take, grasping and pulling without restraint for more contact, more pressure, greater heights of ecstasy. Such a long absence intensified the feelings, now, making them potent and incredible.

He heard his partner's panel open to expose ports and the end buds of cables that existed for only one purpose. Heard the sigh of anticipation. Felt the hands gripping at him tighter to pull their hips together and build the electrified lattice that would link and rebound their pleasure. Another explosion, and Optimus was torn from the moment to realize again what he was doing and with who. "How can you be enjoying this?"

"You don't feel it after a battle?" Megatron hissed, meeting the blue optics and watching how they brightened when he shifted one leg to grind their pelvises and trigger the connections. The secondary levels of armour beneath his chest plates loosened and prepared to come apart. "The heat, the drive, the power – rattling around pressing for release but the fight is over, for now, and there's only so often you can hit a subordinate."

Optimus sat back straddling the mech's hips, hot trepidation spiking naked want and underlining that this was so very, very wrong. They had become enemies so soon after their last merge that it made him uneasy to think about, but this was a whole new level of inappropriateness and obscenity. Dizzyingly salacious. The first of their ports and cables found one another and burned into place.

This was purely functional, Optimus growled to himself, even as he rocked to trigger the last links and seal the lattice. "I'm not stimulated by the death and maiming of our people," he murmured, hissing as heat crackled out from where they were joined and brought his body to a state of tingling hyperawareness.

Head thrown back against the ground and teeth bared, Megatron's reply was somewhere between a groan and a laugh. "Could have fooled me."

The Decepticon framed and scratched at his chassis with both hands, and Optimus suddenly found casting aside the troubling questions and anxieties that had followed him to this moment easy. Megatron wanted an interface in exchange for access to his spark – something that they'd done before and a better option than how the Prime had prepared to conduct a cleansing merge. Pleasure was an inescapable facet of this no matter how much he resisted, and Optimus gave in to it with a low engine roar. Seizing on the mech's shoulders, he pulled them both back and upright so that they were entangled in one another's laps. It trapped them together and pressed on the lattice hard enough that another bot would have found it hurt, but here they strained and grasped. Pain and pleasure had always been close sensations in their couplings, interchangeable and intoxicating in their juxtaposition.

Megatron shuddered as all of the Prime's trepidation and reservations vanished, rolling his hips to strain and relax the lattice of cables between them whilst Optimus bit at his neck, exchanging blue charges. They were holding each other close and upright, both their backs exposed to roving hands and their legs scuffing and gouging the floor in arcs around them. Between them, light built.

"Aah, yes, you do remember."

Optimus curled into the dark mech as a hard wave of pre-overload charge crashed through him, making his spark flare and throb with readiness. "This is just a cleansing merge, no different to the thousands of others I've performed."

He could feel Megatron so close – closer than their bodies were locked together. Tendrils of feeling were slipping out, becoming clearer and more articulated with every second: A sense of joyful abandonment to this unexpected coupling; Smug pride that he was fragging the Prime whilst his soldiers died closeby; satisfied confidence that this would achieve nothing; Unashamed ecstasy. Drawing them in, he searched through in search of the defection that he was certain was in there. Had to be there. The thing that he could heal.

On the cusp of overload, Megatron wrapped an arm around the slim mech's neck to draw him close and growl into his audio: "I was never just another notch in your plate, Optimus, and you know it."

The dark lust in the words was enough to push him beyond what he'd been fighting against. Optimus didn't mean to overload, focussed solely on enveloping the other spark with his own as wholly as possible. Megatron's bellow announced a powerful peak that trigged his own despite how vulnerable it left him, and the room flashed with white light.

He had lied in saying that this cleansing merge was no different than any before. He'd always refrained from prying any more than called for, soothing the anxieties that couldn't be hidden and leaving the darker recesses that the other wasn't yet ready to expose alone. Now he'd absorbed everything, overwhelming the Decepticon's spark with the fullness of his ability to.

The totality of it offlined Megatron and left him slumped, chassis resealing in sluggish jerks and the lattice between their interface panels retracting. Optimus held him with shuttered optics, anchoring himself with the solid body as his spark twisted and buckled with the enormity of what he'd taken in. Searching and searching for the fracture or spiritual corrosion that had brought about his warmongering sadism. Hunting for what he must have been able to cleanse out of his soul to return him to his former state. Optimus cupped the mech's helm and pressed his own against it as if it might help, gritting his dentals when he sensed systems beginning to come back online. Counting this precious time down and he'd found nothing.

There was nothing.

Optimus untangled himself and moved back as Megatron's strength returned and his optics onlined, optics bright with shock and failure. He'd been so consumed with the ethics of what he'd planned that he hadn't considered the possibility that there would be nothing. And there was nothing – he'd never flushed through and examined a spark so thoroughly before, and aside from the usual clutter and shadows, it was clean. The Decepticon Commander was genuinely at peace with everything that he'd done and the further destruction he had planned.

And he wasn't insane, which made it even worse.

Megatron rose slowly, rolling one shoulder as if enjoying looseness in previously cramped lines, his optics fixed on the Prime. His grin was slow and liquid-smooth, exposing fangs still slick with fluids from the insignificant punctures and scratches he'd left behind. He was silent as the last vestiges of overload were absorbed into his systems, watching the other mech, observing the surprised disappointment that was etched onto him.

"I told you there was nothing to cleanse out." The blue optics dimmed fractionally and Megatron cocked his head. "Or perhaps you just wanted a frag all along." When the Prime remained silent and still, he opened a comm. link and delivered his orders aloud. "Decepticons, withdraw. This plant's beyond useless now. Let the Autobots have it."

Megatron left without taking advantage of the Autobot's dazed state, blasting a hole through the debris of the collapsed door to return to the Decepticons and the Nemesis. An abrupt end to what had filled the room with the heavy smell of burnt ozone, heated energon and warm electrical charge. Optimus waited in silence, continuing to comb through the abstract data until the pings that had been coming through from almost every soldier since he'd isolated himself with Megatron became deafening. They were converging on his position now that the Decepticons were retreating, and he could sense the urgent concern in the persistent comm. bursts. He didn't respond to any of them, trapped in his twisting reverie.

Ratchet reached him first, optics bright with scans the moment he came into range. Seeing the state of the other mech, it was the friend that spoke first and not the medic. "Are you alright?"

Nothing, and he touched a thick wrist to make his presence concrete. Ratchet knew from the real-time sensor information he'd been receiving that Optimus was physically well, and the obvious signs of a recent dual overload were no surprise to him. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to something so emotionally treacherous, yet was equally relieved that Megatron's spark exposure had been at the Decepticon's consent. The psychological repercussions for Optimus if it had been otherwise were devastating despite all the reasons for doing it.

He pressed his palm against the central seam of the broad chassis, grimacing at the chaotic power inside. "Optimus?"

This time the response was immediate. Optimus met his optics with a sigh, nodding once. "I'm well."

"I'll be the judge of that," the medic groused, though relaxing a little. "Open up before the hoard descends."

It seemed an unnecessary precaution but Optimus acquiesced, transforming out the parts still warm with overload. Ratchet hesitated at the swollen spark revealed, over twice the size he'd ever seen it. Across the white corona, flashes of gold and blue spattered and cracked as the excess energy was gradually siphoned back.

"Pit of a merge," Ratchet murmured, stepping back to indicate that he was satisfied.

Optimus shunted a kind of humourless sigh at that vast understatement. "I wanted to be thorough."

Just as Ratchet was about to ask what had been found, Ironhide screeched into the room over the rubble as fast as his vehicular form would allow. He transformed whilst still moving, coming to stand beside both mechs with bring optics. It was painfully obvious from the threshold that a particularly powerful bout of interfacing had taken place. "What in Primus' name is going on?"

Ratchet hesitated to respond, and Optimus touched his finial to transmit to the Autobots a message to stay back and attend the wounded. He met Ironhide's optics gravely. It wasn't exactly shame that he felt but he still didn't want any more of an audience at present. "I tried to… amend whatever it is in Megatron's spark that has been influencing him so violently." It sounded ridiculous to his own audios, and he suddenly could not meet either of the mechs' optics. "I failed."

"You performed a cleansing merge?" Ironhide asked with narrowed optics. "Prime-"

"It didn't work," Optimus cut in before the dark mech had a chance to bestow judgement.

Ratchet touched his elbow in both a gesture of support and to get his attention. "What do you mean?"

"That there was very little there to cleanse," Optimus replied flatly, glancing to Ironhide and finding his expression unreadable. "There is no poisoning or abnormality in him. Nothing I can do for him."

The medic made a soft sound. "It was worth a try."

"You bared your spark to the Decepticon leader without any kind of protection or supervision?" Ironhide snapped abruptly, overlooking the fact of the interface entirely. He knew full well that it must have been a calculated tactic; not that the Prime harboured feelings for Megatron. "The only way you could have been more vulnerable is if Starscream had been in here with you as well."

Optimus saw the tone for what it was and laid a calming hand on the mech's shoulder. "Ratchet has been closely monitoring me since the start of the battle, and the possibility of ending this war through such a simple thing had already been decided to be worth the personal risk. At the very least I will no longer wonder about this option, and I've suffered no ill effects from the attempt."

Ratchet's motors whined in agreement as he nodded and folded his arms. "It'll take a little more time than normal for your spark to resettle. You won't be cleansing anyone, not matter how direly they need it and how superficial it is, until I clear you as fit."

Ironhide looked between them both warily. "You sure nothing came back the other way?"

Optimus shook his head immediately, the plates around his optics tight in thought. "Evil is not a poison that taints a spark. It is belief in a set of principles that will maim innocents for selfish goals. There's nothing that can be done for him in that sense."

A slight nod and Ironhide cycled back his cannons, falling into a more relaxed posture. "So you've less of an objection to killing him now?"

Optics narrowing but brightening in thought, Optimus straightened and met their gazes resolutely. Something useful had come from the cleansing merge and, though only a glimmer, he was confident enough in the information to know that they had to respond. "We must send the All Spark away. Hide it somewhere in the universe, where even the Autobots would struggle to find it."

Ratchet's optics flashed with a subtle flare, the fine plates making up his brows lifting. "Primus."

"He wants it," Optimus went on quickly, touching is chassis over his spark without realizing the gesture. "He's looking for a way to get it already."

"You saw this?" the medic asked in a harder tone, demanding certainty in favour of this audacious suggestion.

Behind the face plate Optimus smiled, though weakly and sadly. "He never understood how little he could hide from me in a merge." It was detail he'd initially felt guilty about, but over time he'd come to accept that if other bots knew the truth of just how far into their souls he could go, then no one would accept a cleansing merge.

"It's almost a shame you can't do it to him again and get his tactical plans. Or any 'con," Ironhide murmured, his frown indicating that he genuinely found the idea distasteful. The Decepticons were the enemy, but that was not justification enough for such an unethical means of interrogation no matter how effective it might be.

"Never again." The affirmation came on an exhale as the Prime's shoulder's dropped fractionally. He was suddenly exhausted, on more levels than he was used to after a battle.

Ratchet bowed his head in clear relief, edged with gratitude, before motioning towards the entrance hole. "Come on: We need to get back to the Ark and start figuring our how we can convince the Council to lose a holy artefact in space."

Ironhide shadowed them out, walking with a proximity to Optimus that conveyed concern in itself. "I won't say nothing, Sir. Cleansing merges are anyone's right, and if there were anyone it could help more if you could wash out evil, it'd be Megatron. Just 'cause it didn't work didn't mean it wasn't worth trying."

Optimus smiled a little and looked to the soldier at his side. "Thank you for understanding what this was, and your discretion. I sense that Megatron will not be divulging the details of this either."

Because Megatron didn't want to cheapen their last encounter of this kind, no matter how much he'd professed the stupidity of it. The mech had ultimately invested emotion in the merge and, on some deep and quiet level, said goodbye. It was enough to give Prime hope, certain as it was that nothing would come of it. Megatron was lost to this war now, and there were no more peaceful options left.

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