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“Well, you’ve won, Optimus, at last.”
So he had, but then why didn’t Optimus feel like he had? Or was this heavy nothingness what victory felt like? He stared through the force field separating Megatron’s cell from the rest of the world as his possibly former nemesis sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall despite the fact that there was a perfectly serviceable bench right there.
Sure, Megatron had willingly submitted himself to custody to face justice… or the facsimile of justice they could cobble together, but it all felt… strange.
“Yet this is how you gloat?” Standing at the edge of the force field with his arms crossed and occasionally shuffling his feet, Optimus didn’t mean to be gloating. He just didn’t know what else to do with himself but to come here and be where Megatron was. He didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to do here, in Megatron’s presence. All he knew was that Megatron was here. That was enough, for now anyway.
While Optimus had spent so much time over the last several million years wanting to end the war, it had been hard to imagine what would happen once it was. He’d never really thought of what punishment Megatron would face when all was said and done.
That wasn’t quite true.
Optimus had thought about it, but only in a vague and general sort of way. Prison of some kind, probably, most likely for the rest of his life. Maybe the death penalty. Maybe. Optimus hadn’t really wanted to dwell on that sort of thing and figured the solution would make itself clear if the war ever ended. If. The war ending had seemed like a pipe dream for so long and now, here it was.
Over.
No more deaths, no more skirmishes, no more large scale battles, no more schemes.
He’d thought it had ended once before, the last time Megatron had surrendered himself to custody and they’d had… a talk. A very strange talk that, while somewhat cathartic, had lent itself to more questions and had left Optimus with a feeling of it all being unfinished.
But that hadn’t been the end of the war, had it? No, Megatron had been planning something.
He could have been planning something right now.
“You come to me for assistance with your self-flagellating instead of parading around with those soldiers of yours, drunk in the streets on their own revelry?” Megatron’s scoff pulled Optimus out of his thoughts. “I can see it on your face. Even in victory you’re full of doubt. ‘Did I do enough?’ I can practically hear you thinking it.”
Optimus had never cared for Megatron’s ability to see right through him. No matter how many walls he put up, but he supposed that was normal when you’ve known someone that long. Then again, Optimus had never managed to see through Megatron in the same way. He only saw a power hungry maniac, huddled on the ground of this lowly cage, where his friend and inspiration had once been.
Maybe that was where Optimus had gone wrong. He’d stopped seeing.
“Don’t you have anything to say? Stop staring at me like I’m an exhibit in a private menagerie. You know well enough what I look like and a picture would last longer than whatever it is you’re doing now.”
How long had he been here standing mute? Optimus couldn’t say. With a sigh, he shook his head, grateful for the battle-mask concealing his face. There was no way to be sure his expression wouldn’t betray something.
“I’m trying to decide what we ought to do with you,” he lied.
“I’m surprised you haven’t already taken me out back, shot me and then tossed what was left in a smelter.” Then came the familiar barking laugh, mocking and haughty even in defeat. “But, of course, that wouldn’t be very Autobot of you, would it? Not in public anyway.”
Funny that he would say that, given the red of poor Bumblebee’s badge tacked onto his chest, right over the purple badge made from Megatron’s own spark chamber. Optimus had let Bumblebee down too….
Optimus was supposed to be the victor, triumphant and glorious for having saved Cybertron and her peoples from the war that had torn them all apart, from the monster that wanted little more than absolute power. He’d done that. He had stopped Megatron from doing the unthinkable… this time, but not any of the other times that his old friend had gone beyond the pale.
Yet here, he stood, ashamed and full of nothing but regrets. Relief at everything being over was nowhere to be found. All he had was the weight of untold millions of mistakes. At least, that was something they had in common with each other. The sheer scale of failure only available to the both of them. Ending the war didn’t make up for all of the lives lost because of their choices.
Dropping his shoulders and shaking his head, Optimus slapped the access panel on the wall next to the cell.
The force field faded. Optimus stepped in and let the field return, just in case Megatron decided to pull a fast one and somehow bolt from his position on the floor.
“Prime, what are you—“
“Is this seat taken?” he asked, cutting off the question he didn’t really want to answer by plopping down on the floor next to Megatron.
A moment passed in an uncomfortable silence, as though Megatron were still processing what had just happened, before the gray mech answered.
“Yes,” he said, gesturing wide with his arm—well, as best as he could with his wrists cuffed together, the other arm trailing in a loose mirror of the movement. “It is. I’ve been saving this excellent, exclusive space on this upscale prison floor an old friend of mine.”
“Oh, do I know him?” It was a stupid question. Optimus knew very well who Megatron was talking about, but for their mutual benefit, he would play along with the charade.
“Yes, I must say you do. Do you remember an incurably idealistic mech by the name of Orion Pax?”
Optimus hummed, pretending to be searching the recesses of his processor for a recollection.
“Ah, yes, I think I’ve met him once.” He heaved a sigh. After he thought the war had ended, Optimus had attempted to reclaim that part of himself, the part that had been Orion Pax, free from the burdens of leadership. It hadn’t worked, but Megatron seemed to remember how he had been then. “A long time ago now, but once, yes.”
“Wonderful. Now,” Megatron said, giving Optimus a firm shove with his elbow. “Kindly get out of his spot. I’ve waited millions of years to see him again and I won’t have you ruining our reunion.”
"Well—" Optimus recoiled from the push. "I can't leave actually. I forgot that I can't—"
"Can't deactivate the field from inside." Megatron sighed and ran his palms down his face. "Of course."
Still not the worst mistake Optimus had made recently.