The second part of the Allspark one-shot I wrote! This one is exploring the aftermath of Dana's transformation. I may add more parts, but I'm not going to make any promises, haha. :) Hope you guys enjoy!!
Also, I apologize in advance - I haven't done a lot of editing on this part, so sorry for any grammatical errors!

XXX

Ratchet allowed his vents to fully empty as soon as the last patient was out the door. Once the final fan kicked off he was greeted by complete and utter silence in the clinic, his digits twitching with underlying anxiety.

Seven months, twenty-three days.

He knew it was ridiculous to count the days, to wake up from recharge each morning hoping to find her there, perhaps sitting on his nightstand or in the main hub of his private quarters, waiting for him. The mech chalked it up to old habits dying hard, his worry for Dana's wellbeing overriding any sort of logic he could talk himself through. Sure, she was now far more powerful than any mortal being, transcending her organic form to become one with two of the most god-like creatures in Cybertronian lore.

Yet he remained anxious, CPU popping up with frequent what ifs which sent his spark into a spiral. It helped when he had work to do, patients presenting to his clinic for follow-ups on a plethora of conditions. But in these moments of silence . . .

The Autobot forced himself to stand, closing down his clinic for the day. Despite advertising as only functioning during the daytime hours, the medic always left a series of contact glyphs on the door; in case of emergency, a mecha in need could contact this private line and request his help. Very few ever used it, and no one was dumb enough to abuse the line, thus it remained.

Not like his old spark could turn away even the least of needs.

Like clockwork his pedes took him past his apartment, towards the heart of Iacon, delving into the refurbished Scientific Center without hesitation. Several mecha recognized him instantly, offering waves or small greetings as he passed by, which he returned graciously. Striding down the familiar halls he barely halted to allow a door to read his signature before coming in.

At this point Perceptor did not even need to turn around to know who it was.

"Ratchet. You're late." He mumbled sarcastically.

"Did you run the diagnostic?"

"Yes. It's almost done," the scientist gestured to a monitor off to the side, singular optic squinting with displeasure. "And I guarantee you it's going to be normal. Just like last time."

Ratchet said nothing, waiting whilst strings of numbers and readings gradually filtered onto the screen.

"The Allspark was meant to merge with Cybertron's core," Perceptor continued, "if there was going to be a problem, it would've happened by now."

"Maybe," Ratchet ignored the steel in his tone, well aware the mech was beyond annoyed at his borderline obsessive insistence for frequent checks. "I just worry."

"Well, I'm sure Optimus does plenty of that for all of us," the mech returned to his computers, resuming typing whatever results he had collected this solar cycle into the system. Ratchet elected to ignore his thinly veiled shoo, go away, knowing he needed to be patient with the younger. Very few mecha knew the true contents of Cybertron's core, and Perceptor was not one of them.

Ratchet just wanted to make sure Dana was healthy, and safe.

All reads came back green, the medic venting deeply with relief. He assured himself by considering her slumber was taking longer than she expected, and could force himself to be patient for at least a couple more days. Well, more like a few hours, but he tried to be optimistic.

"Thank you, Perceptor," he made his way to the door. The scientist grunted in response, saying nothing as the medic's steps faded out of the room.

His digits itched with the urge to contact him, wondering if maybe he had heard anything, seen a sign. Perhaps Dana had even visited, even if it was for a brief moment. Ratchet did not know if projecting her consciousness took much energy, but perhaps it was only enough to muster a quick visit. Maybe he was recharging each time, though why wouldn't she wait until he was awake?

It was difficult to be reasonable when things were so uncertain.

He quietly made his way up to his apartment, opening the doors to the usual silent suite. Some days he hoped to see her there, waiting, yet every time the Cybertronian was disappointed when only grey walls greeted him.

Perhaps not only grey walls. The medic had started making a habit of adding colors to his living space, those which reminded him of the organic planet he left behind. A part of him genuinely missed Earth, thus he tried to compensate by adding colors and designs reminiscent of the organic life. He also knew, subconsciously, he wanted to make his space as welcoming as possible for his former charge. Because surely she missed her home too.

Ratchet knew the feeling all too well.

Quickly finishing a small cube of Energon, he moseyed into his quarters and laid down on the berth, cycling another long vent through his systems. Staring at the ceiling, he closed his optics, forcing himself to forget his anxiety, at least long enough to power down for discharge.

Tomorrow was another day. Maybe it would be the day.

XXX

Megatron was sitting at his desk - a most unpleasant experience - when Ratchet visited him.

The medic very rarely came to Kaon, and even rarer made a point of seeking out the warlord, yet it was often enough he was a familiar sight to the staff. It was often enough when he walked through the doors Megatron did not act surprised when he saw who it was disturbing his focus.

"Ratchet."

"Megatron," he acknowledged, still stiff and wary, yet he looked exhausted. His optics were dim and sluggish, his expression more slack than the typical unhappy frown which the former tyrant was usually honored with. If he was recharging, it wasn't well.

He had the answer before the medic could even ask the question. "No, I haven't seen her." His optic ridges furrowed. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," the elder helped himself to a chair, settling in it with creaking joints. "I was . . . I at least hoped maybe she had visited you, gave some indication she was okay. All of Perceptor's reads are coming back normal but . . . It's been eight months."

Now one ridge quirked up. "You believe she would see me before you?"

Ratchet shrugged. "You two were very close. Far closer than I ever approved of."

"Yet you were her guardian," had Ratchet been less tired, he perhaps would have caught how amused Megatron was at the admittedly wild assumption. "Your spark was the one which brought her new life. And if you recall, we parted on . . . Neutral terms. At best."

"She forgave you," Ratchet grumbled, "I'm sure despite her best judgement. But I'd say you were friendly again. Even if it was for only a couple nano-kliks."

"I assure you, between the two of us, she would ensure you knew of her return first," Megatron's digits rapped against the metal desk. He paused. "You haven't recharged."

"I have," came the defensive snap. "Just . . . It's been difficult."

Red optics gazed at him for a long time. "Do you want me to check on her? Personally?"

Cyan looked up to meet him. "What? Why?"

"You have me worried," the metallic titan leaned forward, "I at first was unconcerned, and trusted Dana to return to us when she was ready. But you're exhausted. You are worried. And perhaps it is infectious, but you are giving me all the signs I should be as well. Not to mention I am one of few who know how to navigate to Cybertron's core."

Ratchet rubbed the front of his face. "I don't know . . . I just . . . I worry about her."

"As you should," a mild grin, "though I believe she is capable of taking care of herself."

The medic appeared guilty. "Old habits die hard."

"She would be flattered to know you still care deeply about her," Megatron reassured. A spark of mischief danced in his optics. "If you're too tired to make it back to Iacon, you are more than welcome to use my suite to recharge. Or perhaps one of the others will lend their barracks-"

"I'm fine," Ratchet stood, huffing. "But . . . You'll check on the Well?"

"The moment I am able," Megatron allowed for a sigh to escape him. "I should have delegated this task to Starscream. Far too much paperwork."

"Leading the Decepticons?"

"It hasn't gotten to that point yet, but I would be lying if I said I had not seriously considered the notion."

XXX

Optimus Prime stood at the door with Perceptor and First Aid when Ratchet walked into the Science Center.

The elder medic paused, frowning. "What is this, an intervention?"

"We are becoming increasingly worried about you, old friend," Optimus replied gently, his expression holding that sad worry which always killed Ratchet on the inside, "Megatron informed me you have not been recharging well. And even Perceptor has noticed you are . . . Not functioning at optimal levels."

As if possessing comedic timing, Ratchet dismissed the urgent pop-up requesting recharge which tapped the edge of his CPU.
"I'm doing fine."

"Optimus has requested I confirm that for him," First Aid rebuttaled, earning a cranky glare. "But I have to agree. Pardon my initial assessment, but you look like pits."

"Glad to see you newer models have upgraded your professional coding." Ratchet snapped back. He felt like pits, not that he would ever admit it.

"Ratchet," Primus, he hated how Optimus' pathetic, soft pleading immediately lanced through his chest. "Please let First Aid conduct a physical examination. We are worried about your health."

"You couldn't corner me in my apartment for this?"

"I was the one who called them for advice," Perceptor admitted, "as I am sure I am one of few who have been able to witness your decline. Your obsession with the core is, admittedly, extremely worrisome."

Ratchet shot the scientist a glare, refocusing on his friend. "Optimus . . . It's almost been a year."

His expression softened. "She would not want you to hurt yourself, old friend."

The medic's shoulder pads slumped forward, defeat etched across his frame with such a simple statement. Perceptor and First Aid shared a look, both assured by the other they had no idea who Optimus or Ratchet were talking about. First Aid highly doubted this she was anyone romantically involved with the elder medic, given Ratchet was not one to socialize with the end goal being a close relationship. Not to mention he felt he was missing some key information: what did Cybertron's core have to do with this mysterious person?

"Let me escort you home," Optimus placed a servo on his shoulder.

"Fine. Fine," came the unhappy grumble, gentle blue optics settling on the second medic.

"First Aid, if you would accompany us. Thank you, Perceptor, for your concern."

"Any time," the as long as it keeps him out of my lab went unsaid; the scientist did not feel like bringing on the full wrath of the Autobot CMO today.

Ratchet reluctantly tromped out of the Science Center with Optimus at his side. He ignored the few stares the Prime drew their way, cranky enough as it was.

They did not speak until the medic stepped foot into his apartment, bristling slightly when First Aid prepped his scanner.

"I don't need an evaluation. I just need recharge," he muttered.

"At least let me do a baseline check," First Aid requested. With a small nod from Optimus, Ratchet unenthusiastically did as asked, holding still while a blue beam ran across his frame.

A quiet moment, two, Ratchet cringing as the shrill alarm of abnormal findings filtered through the air.

"Low energon, frazzled CPU, consistent with lack of downtime," First Aid frowned, "I haven't seen reads this bad since the peak of the conflict. By the Allspark, Ratchet."

"It's fixable," he brushed it off, taking a cube out of storage. "I'll start here, and go recharge."
Optimus said nothing, watching him consume the Energon whilst glaring at the pair of them over the rim of the cube. Still, the Prime never wavered, ensuring Ratchet stomped off to recharge before turning his attention to First Aid.

"Thank you, for taking the time to evaluate him."

"Had I know he was this bad, I would have insisted on a check-up and follow-up a long time ago," First Aid suspected he would not get much of answer, but it never hurt to ask, "what has caused this?"

Optimus hesitated, but to his credit he did not break optic contact with the medic. "The situation is . . . Complex."

"There's a she involved."

"Extremely complex," the Prime's tone left little room for questioning. "And is a part of Ratchet's personal life. If he wishes to share, I will leave it up to his discretion."

The Autobot initially appeared as if he wished to argue, however found it wiser to leave it be. First Aid dismissed himself, deciding if Ratchet continued to run himself into the ground he would eventually find out the truth.

XXX

Ratchet swore to himself he would not interrupt Perceptor's work to check on Cybertron's core, but when the butterfly flew in front of his faceplates, the burst of panic which overcame him was too much to resist.

Like a snake he lunged forward, capturing the creature between his servos as delicately as his frenzied systems allowed, slowly opening them up to look. Orange wings fluttered back at him, the insect abnormally calm despite the energetic mecha who captured it. It was clearly Cybertronian in origin, however he had never seen the creature outside of Earth.

Which meant Dana had created once again.

Running into the Science Center he practically broke down the door, Perceptor whirling to shout at the intruder. He hesitated when he realized who it was, not needing to say anything to Optimus Prime, who stood next to him.

"Look!" Ratchet felt like he was going insane, and he probably looked insane, shoving his cupped servos into the Prime's face. Opening them up, he revealed the dazzling thing within, its wings lazily opening, then closing, unnervingly calm about the situation.

"What is that?" Perceptor questioned.

"A butterfly," Optimus Prime answered, "an Earth creature."

"She's creating," Ratchet said painfully, "but why isn't she here?"

Optimus hesitated, truly wondering if his friend was over the edge, attempting to be delicate.

"Perceptor noticed a fluctuation in the Core's energy signal approximately thirty cycles ago," he stated slowly, "these may be the product of the surge."

"Is the core okay?" The medic demanded.

"All other tests have come back normal," Perceptor showed him the results, half afraid the medic would rip his servos off with the tablet when he snatched it, one servo still holding the butterfly. "Why is an organic creature coming from the Well?"

"This one specifically is not truly organic," Optimus gestured. "It is made of Cybertronian components, as you can observe."

"Still, how did its blueprint get here?"

"Ratchet."

One would have thought the CMO had been shocked with an Energon prod the way he straightened, twisting so fast it was a wonder he did not fall. A small figure stood near the door, appearing just as she had eight months ago, though now she wore a soft t-shirt and leggings, her hair down and framing her face.

Perceptor's jaw dropped. "A human?"

"Dana," Ratchet's voice cracked, unsure which emotion to feel first. He was, more than anything, relieved. She was here. She had come back.

He took a step forward, hesitating, then another, Perceptor's exclamation of surprise his only reassurance he was not hallucinating. They met halfway, butterfly still in his servo, the other reaching down to touch her.

Her hand lightly caressed his digit. "You've been unwell," her voice was sad.

"I was worried," he replied defensively, letting her press her cheek into his digit pad. "It was almost a year . . . I thought, maybe something was wrong . . ."

"Trust Perceptor's instruments," she assured him, green eyes gazing at his cyan optics with a hint of amusement. "They will let him know if anything goes wrong."

Ratchet took a deep ventilation, orienting himself back into the present. A flicker of orange caught his optic.

"Viceroys. Your favorite."

She smiled softly. "Not to be confused with a Monarch. I'm flattered you remember."

"Of course," he grumbled gently, "you always spoke about them in your butterfly bush."

Her eyes sparkled, quietly extending a hand out. The butterfly fluttered off, and despite being nearly the same size as her it balanced perfectly on her hand, slowly flapping its wings to display the patterning within.

Then it flew off, happy to make its way out of the Science Center eventually.

Dana gladly hopped onto Ratchet's servo when he offered, going so far as to take graceful leaps up, landing on his shoulder pad and sitting comfortably on it. He sensed her legs dangle near his neck, hand lightly touching the side of his helm. It was as if she was truly there.

"How . . . Is that possible?" Perceptor finally asked the question which was beating against his CPU. "Organic life cannot function on Cybertron . . ."

The human offered him a smile. "It's . . . Complicated." Green eyes flickered over to Optimus, "you only shared the Allspark merged with Cybertron's core. You didn't specify how."

Despite her tone being neutral, Optimus felt like he was being scolded by a parent. "I thought it best the least number of Cybertronians knew the truth. It is . . . An unorthodox situation, and I feared for your safety and what others may do."

Perceptor furrowed his optic ridges. "Well, I'm the one monitoring Cybertron's core. Shouldn't I be privy to that information?"

The human and Prime looked at one another, appearing to have a silent conversation. Ratchet gazed at his leader, though he knew it was not his place to protest one way or another. Dana's presence had noticeably pacified the medic, his frame appearing significantly relaxed.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," Dana shrugged. "Shall I do the honors, or you, Optimus?"

The Prime felt an abnormal shiver down his back struts when she said his name. It was not necessarily pleasant, but rather unnerving. It felt like Primus himself - herself? - was speaking to him directly. Which, in a way, they were . . . It was unsettling to think about. The last time he spoke directly with Primus, he had been given the Matrix of Leadership. He had become Optimus Prime.

"You recall I said the Allspark merged with Cybertron's core, allowing the two to become one?" He asked Perceptor.

The scientist nodded.

"Prior to this, Unicron possessed Megatron's body and traveled to Cybertron, intent on destroying Primus once and for all," Optimus told the story, one he would recall for the rest of his life. Having been fighting Unicron he did not witness the merging of human and Allspark, yet he saw the creature they became after. Dana possessed supernatural abilities, yet the human handled them well. Though wild at heart she was gentle in spirit, understanding the responsibility given to her with unrivaled comprehension. She most likely knew of this, but Optimus never disclosed how her sacrifice killed him. Given the choice, the Prime would have refused anyone else losing their life for the sake of Cybertron. To see Dana, a human no less, a life he swore to protect, fall into the Well left him with guilt for a long, long time.

Perceptor listened with growing astonishment, optics cycling wider and wider. Once Optimus finished the explanation he was speechless for a long time, attempting to decide what it was he wished to address first.

Finally, he focused on Dana. "You . . . Are Primus?"

"And the Allspark, and Dana," she confirmed. Her hand lightly stroked the side of Ratchet's helm when she felt him bristle in mild agitation. He did not like how she referred to herself in the third person, as if she wasn't her. "We are all one and the same, though how I'm presenting to you and how I chose to act is as . . . Me. Dana."

"So you . . . Are the dominant personality?"

"Not necessarily," she tilted her head. "It's difficult to explain. I am all three, yet I choose to present as one. If necessary, I would present as Primus instead. The Allspark is a slightly different story, as it is similar to sentience but not entirely its own independent entity."

The scientist appeared to wrap his helm around the idea quite well, still frowning. "Primus never chose to directly  interact with his creations before," he noted, "what changed?"

"Ratchet is my friend, and I care deeply about him," Dana smiled at the medic, who in turn offered a mild one in return - one she knew well and loved, "besides, I promised I would return. And I have."

"Does that mean the core is . . . Here?"

"No. I am only projecting my consciousness," her expression became sad, "what is left of my physical body is tied to the Core forever. In theory, I could separate from Primus with the Allspark, however then Cybertron would die once more. And if I tried to separate from both . . . it would be I who perished."

Perceptor appeared horrified by the notion, keeping it to himself for the time being. His optics drifted to Ratchet. "That is why you are so worried about the Core. Your . . . Your charge is there."

"My partner, yes," he unabashedly corrected. "I have become accustomed to worrying about her safety. Her rest took longer than expected; I was afraid something had happened. I feared she was poisoned."

"I did sense a visitor," she noted, eyes sparkling at her guardian. "You sent Megatron after me? I thought you'd prefer the exact opposite."

He stuttered. "He offered! I thought it was a good idea. Did he wake you?"

"I'm unsure," she shrugged. "But I find it endearing. I'm glad to see you two getting along."

Perceptor made a face. "I recall Optimus mentioned you two have a history."

Dana laughed. "I'm sure you're tired of hearing this, but . . . It's complicated. We developed a back-and-forth relationship on Earth, becoming close through rather . . . Interesting situations. Naturally, Ratchet never approved-"

"-no sane person would-"

"- but it pleases me to see Decepticons and Autobot setting aside their differences for the good of their home, their people." She squeezed his orange shoulder.

Perceptor tapped the tablet which rested in his servos. "So this energy fluctuance . . . Was you waking up."

"Yes, and catching up on what has happened since I last remembered," Dana confirmed, "I found the flower fields to be a little . . . Bare, so I thought they could use companions. Butterflies really don't do much aside from collect nectar and look pretty, so I thought they would make a perfect, peaceful candidate."

The scientist grunted in understanding, deep in thought with his optics trained on the tablet.

"How long are you intending to remain?" Optimus questioned.

"Long enough to ensure Ratchet is well again," if the medic could blush he would, instead feeling his frame warm in embarrassment. "And to visit Megatron, of course."

"I see," the Prime did not seem to quite like the answer, however he forced himself to trust the judgement of this new deity. She was something Primus had never encountered before, a novel part of Cybertron still learning the ropes. She did things the ancient had not, would not, the consequences of such actions having yet to take hold. Perhaps they would be for the better - or the worse.

He just hoped whenever it was, Ratchet would not be destroyed by it.

With little ceremony the medic left the Science Center with his partner remaining against him, no other Cybertronians seeming to acknowledge her existence. It was likely to keep things hush-hush, though if one looked close enough they would see Ratchet appeared leagues better.

The occasional butterfly fluttered past them, a new addition which others appeared to warmly accept. They were a quite a fantastical sight to behold, whispers theorizing where the odd creatures came from. When Ratchet entered his apartment a small clutch of them fluttered off of the flowers he had collected from the field a long time ago, placed in pseudo-soil very reminiscent of a potted plant.

Dana stood, lightly descending to his countertop whilst he helped himself to a cube of Energon. She smiled, teasing.

"Are you going to rest easy, now that I'm here?"

The corner of his derma twitched. "You're omniscient. Shouldn't you know?"

Green eyes sparkled with the mischief he had come to miss. "Well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

His soft chuckle was a welcome sound, digit gently brushing against her. She hugged it affectionately.

"I missed you," she said softly.

"And I missed you," he vented heavily, voice threatening to crack again. "When you didn't wake up . . . When the weeks turned to months and it was nearly a year . . . I didn't know what to do . . . I can't lose you again."

"I'm sorry, Ratch," she lightly stroked his digit. "I'm sorry to have caused you this pain, for you to suffer wondering if I was ever going to come back. Primus is tired, and his energy was spent long before I mustered my own to restore Cybertron. The slumber was far greater than I expected. I only hope . . . I hope you understand I never intend to leave you. Even if I have to be gone for a little while."

"I'm just glad you're safe. You're okay," he murmured, thumb lightly stroking her hair.

She smiled softly. "I am. And you," she lightly tapped his digit, "are due for recharge. I'll be here when you wake up."

His cyan optics wavered. "For certain?"

"Absolute," she promised, another twinkle in her eyes, "if you'd like, I can be the first thing you see when your optics online."

His derma twitched, but he was sincere. "I would like that."

"Then I'll be there," she promised, squeezing. "Now come along. Let's get you to bed."

XXX

At first, Megatron was convinced he was hallucinating.

Lounging had never been a fun activity for him, yet he was sitting on his couch, a strange creature cupped in the palm of his servo. After an extensive search he realized it was an Earth creature, a butterfly, the patterning of its wings and coloration pointing towards a Viceroy.

A species common in Dana's homeland.

He blinked, looking up when he realized a new object was in his visual field. Starting, the mech took a moment to register what - or who - he was looking at.

"Dana," he could barely believe his optics.

She smiled, that infuriatingly confident grin which always set his spark aflame. "Megatron, I see you've found one of my butterflies."

He glanced at it, mildly dumbfounded. "More like it found me." CPU stalling, the typically composed Decepticon floundered for what to say next. "You're here."

"Yes," her voice was gentle, sweet. "At least until Ratchet wakes up."

Fluttering in his chassis. "How long will that be?"

"Eight cycles," she chuckled. "He tried to cheat, but I insisted. He needs his rest."

"He was killing himself over you," he did not mean for it to sound accusatory, immediately regretting the tone which the words inflected.

"I know," instead of getting angry, she looked sad, "I . . . I didn't expect my sleep to last so long. I knew Primus was tired, and after the Omega Lock was used to recharge him I thought perhaps we would bounce back fairly quickly." Her lip twitched in bitter amusement. "Despite being omniscient, we're not perfect."

Megatron sat there, unsure what to say or do at first, though planning to backtrack on what he said. "You're . . . Not what you once were. We're still learning what this means."

"And I am too," she smiled softly, "so I suppose we will be working together on that."

Silence fell between them, not quite awkward, though far from comfortable, Megatron hesitating when he reached out to her. His digits twitched, reminiscing on the few times he had the weight of this spark in his palm, how angry she had been with him. These servos had done nothing but break her. Who was he to believe he had any right to touch her again?

A hand wrapped around the point of his digit.
"Would you prefer I was Cybertronian?" She questioned, sensing his hesitancy.

The inquiry caught him off guard. "You are able to change forms?"

"I can become whatever it is you want me to be," her sly smile was infectious. "However you desire. Just say the word."

There was but a brief pause.

"Show me," he requested, pulling back.

Grinning, the human took an ethereal leap from the end table she stood on, gracefully landing on her pedes. The moment she touched the ground her form had changed completely, so smoothly and quickly Megatron could not discern when it had even occurred.

He stared. She was everything he thought she would be. Should be.

Her red armor suited her, the powerful curves reminiscent of the muscle mass her human form possessed. The smooth curves were more of an Autobot's style, edges sharp enough her silhouette could be mistaken for a Decepticon. She easily surpassed his Decepticon symbol in height, yet he remained notably taller than her.
Cyan blue optics, the same color as that accursed Autobot medic, shone back at him.

"Something the matter?" She asked innocently, playfully.

"Your optics," he answered gruffly. "They don't suit you."

Laughing, their color changed with a simple blink. Now a perfect shade of red reflected back at him.

"Better?"

"You may be an Autobot at spark," he replied, "but you were built to be a Decepticon."

Her frame shifted, moving fluidly to sit beside him. It was rather odd, the casual domestication of it all a foreign concept to the former warlord. Yet he swallowed the discomfort, instead focusing on the presence beside him.

This was Dana. The way she was always meant to be.

"I think you just don't want to admit an Autobot has your spark," she snickered, pointer digit tapping against the Decepticon symbol on his chest. "But I am flattered you find me capable of being so flexible."

His armor flickered, only mildly denying it. "It's the truth."

Her servo gently touched his arm, a sign of affection he did not expect. Expression gradually softening, her optics met his gently.

"I want to thank you," she murmured, "for taking care of Ratchet. For the both of you at least getting along, even if it's only a little bit. For my sake."

The former tyrant held her gaze for the longest time, his reply slow as he tried to formulate words to match his emotions.

"I felt . . . I still feel guilty for what I have done to you, and perhaps a part of me hoped by helping him I could earn back some of your forgiveness," his body shifted, turning to face her fully. A servo cupped the side of her helm, a perfect fit, his palm resting like the final piece of a puzzle against her cheek. "My pride never allowed me to say this, Dana, and I will never be able to apologize enough. But I am sorry, for everything."

They both knew she shouldn't, yet she indulged herself regardless, resting her helm into his servo as one of her own curled around it, holding it there. In another life, maybe this could have been them. They could have built their own story, their own relationship, made it into something the heavens would sing about for ages to come.

But he was mortal. She was not.

"I know," she whispered softly, "I know you need not apologize to me, Megatron. We both are at fault for what happened, and should not blame ourselves or one another. I pushed you, knowing full well you were not to be pushed. And you hurt me, despite understanding I was powerless to stop you no matter what you decided to do. I was arrogant, you were angry, and together we made the mistake of thinking I was invincible."

She was right, of course, and he had the sneaking suspicion she always would be. Even then she did not sound condescending, or otherworldly - she was just her. And he was grateful for it.

"I was angry with you, and I think we would both agree I had every right to be," she smiled up at him, "but you were truly remorseful, and sought to correct your mistake. For that, I thank you, Megatron."

Primus, he was going to miss her.

"When you leave again . . . Do you plan on returning?"

She smiled wryly. "Primus certainly doesn't approve, nor does Optimus. But I will come back. I want to return, to see you, to see Ratchet, to stay friends until the end of your time."

His spark faltered. Of course she would live forever, but it would be at the cost of watching her friends pass on without her. What then? Even a Cybertronian's extended lifetime was nothing for one who was eternal.

"Will I see you, in the afterlife?"

The smile fell, and for the first time he saw true sadness, the sadness of a creature who knew all, dull her features. He could see how she peered into the future, knowing it was bleak, yet her voice stayed soft and steady.

"That is a question even I cannot answer," she whispered, "and I request, Megatron, you do not ask it from me again."

"Never," he swore, stroking her cheek with his clawed thumb. "Not when it makes you this unhappy."

His reassurance brought back a touch of  contentment, armor visibly relaxing around her frame. She rested against him, the gesture once again surprisingly domestic and . . . Unnaturally soothing for the former tyrant.

"We still have plenty of time," she broke the silence. "Is there anything else you would like to talk about?" Her optics sparkled with mischief. "Perhaps how Starscream may have a better chance of ruling the Decepticons now than he ever did in those millions of years of war?"

XXX

The night was slowly turning to morning when Optimus received his unexpected visitor.

"You haven't recharged well."

The Matrix within him pulsed, his gaze sliding from the tablet towards the source of the voice. Dana stood there, human guise having changed again to sport her usual red scrubs, hair pulled back in its ponytail with only its colored strands framing her green eyes.

"Have you come to call me a hypocrite?" He replied, carefully on guard. Despite Ratchet's obvious acceptance of his charge's return, Optimus had his own reservations. Especially since he understood this was no longer just Dana, but the vessel of Primus and the Allspark. The way she acted, the questions she posed, were all a front. She already knew the answers, could anticipate the reactions of her Cybertronian peers - this socialization was a mere act, a deity attempting to blend with its creations in a game of charade.

"I could," she admitted, "given Ratchet was at the butt-end of your insistence he recharge despite his anxiety. But I'm not your mother; I trust you are responsible enough to take care of yourself."

She walked over, and in a blink stood on the countertop just off to his right, not quite in front of him but enough it did not place him in an odd position.

"You have questions for me."

"Ones you could answer without my asking," the Prime retorted.

Her expression was sad. "I'm not your enemy, Optimus."

Even as it tore through him, he reminded himself this was not Dana. This was not the human he once knew. Already she knew how this argument was going to go, how she could answer to manipulate the outcome she desired-

"Are my creations not allowed to have free will, even with me?"

He started, not having expected the question. Looking at her he still saw the human before him, however the subtle shift in her demeanor informed him this was no longer just Dana.

"That begs the question on if our free will is truly free," he answered. "You know all, you see all. No matter which path I choose, you are always capable of steering it down the one I think I want, instead of allowing it to take its natural course."

"Did you not have a choice when accepting the Matrix?" Of course, that would be the question she landed on first. "I told you the truth, Orion Pax; you are worthy, and you have proven you continue to be worthy. In the face of immense hardship you have always done what you thought was best for your friends, your family. You could have easily chosen to use the Matrix as Megatron intended, corrupting it and using it to establish your own will on Cybertron. I would have allowed it to happen. I allowed Megatron to poison Cybertron's core, because it was his choice. Is it not proof enough I am willing to die, if it means my creations may choose for themselves how they wish to live?"

His voice was a little smaller, most unlike the Prime. "But you did not die."

"Megatron sought to poison me, not kill me, an endeavor he succeeded in doing. Yet had it come to such a thing I would have allowed it all the same," green eyes slowly blinked at him, appearing a thousand miles away. "Dana and I may be one and the same, Optimus Prime, but it is she who chooses to come to you, to speak with you, because she knows of these insecurities you possess. And she is willing to hear what you have to say not out of politeness, but because you chose to confide in her."

Optimus asked a question he knew was not exactly productive, but needed to be asked regardless. "Why?"

"Just as you would confide in Ratchet, in Megatron," she replied softly. "Because I am your friend."

She received a shocked look, Optimus staring at the former human for quite a long time.
They were never close, certainly not as close as she was to Ratchet. Optimus Prime had seen Dana as another human charge, though admittedly he perhaps held her in higher regard due to her job of choice and age. As reckless as she could be Dana never sought to put others in danger, protecting her fellow humans when it came to choose between her own desires and their safety. She was perhaps the first to touch Megatron's spark in a long, long time, though he failed to realize it too late.

At best they held mutual respect for one another. Friends seemed a bit too intimate for their relationship.

"Primus never interacted with his creations," Optimus began slowly, "and yet you do so freely."

"He certainly doesn't approve," she laughed softly. "As we are supposed to be impartial, without favorites. But with Primus I care for all of you; I just understand that I have caused you pain, and seek to rectify it. Ratchet is, and always will be, my partner - I care deeply about him. Megatron and I were left with a relationship on the mend, one which still needs repair. And you . . ."

Optic ridges furrowed. "We were never close."

"No, but you have questions, those I wish to answer. To clear to air, so to speak, between us."

Digits quietly tapped against the countertop, the Prime unsure if he wanted these questions answered. Yet it was obvious Dana wanted this conversation to happen - for some reason, it was important to her. Was he missing something? Or did he just not feel it as necessary as she?

"Do you truly intend on continuing these visits?"

"I do," she sighed softly. "Until they pass."

The addition surprised him. "You will cease visitations once they are gone?"

"That is my plan," her voice was quiet, sad, "after that . . . I may do as Primus had, and simply . . . Rest. Sleep. Until someone in need awakens me."

His spark squeezed with sharp pains. "I have condemned you to a life of loss," his optics listed towards the ground. "For that, I am truly sorry, Dana."

"You did nothing wrong," her hand touched his in solidarity, "I chose this path, Optimus, and I refused to let your people suffer any longer. No one is to blame for what happened."

"Do you believe that?"

"Yes," she was sincere, "just as you believe it should have been you. We are the same in that aspect, Optimus. You and I would sacrifice ourselves for the sake of Cybertron - and we can never fathom delegating the task to anyone else."

His optics flickered, gazing at the hand which lightly assured him. The gesture was very reminiscent of the human who left them, yet she had never offered such a thing to him. It was strange, this comfort he had never experienced before.

"Your relationship with Megatron," he changed the subject slowly. "Is it something you intend to pursue?"

Her eyes remained trained on the servo she was near, her ponytail appearing to droop with her mood. He realized quickly she was upset once again, the Prime's spark aching softly.
"No," she quietly replied. "For reasons I'm sure are quite obvious. I . . . If things were different, maybe we could have tried. Unconventional as it might have been. But . . . Becoming any closer would only bring us both more pain."

He nodded slowly, preparing to ask another question when she interrupted.

"Optimus, I know it may be too much to ask . . . But could you watch over him? For me? Both of them?"

When he did not answer immediately she continued:

"I know they will take care of each other. They're already doing well. But it would help me rest easy knowing you are there to help them. They need you - just as much as you do them."

His derma twitched in soft amusement.
"I can. I will."

"Thank you." She gently squeezed his digit, eyes looking back up at him. "Ratchet is going to wake up soon. I can answer one more question for you."

He doubted she truly would, but allowed the name to tumble from his mouth regardless.

"Elita-One . . .?"

"Everyone suffers moments before death," she replied softly, "it is just a tragic fact of life. But she did not suffer more than many others. She rests now, peacefully. She knows no pain."

It was a good enough answer for him.

"Thank you, Dana." He vented slowly.

"You're welcome," her hand dropped away, the human stepping back in a silent signal to leave. Before she did, however, she turned to face him one last time.

"When you are ready, Optimus Prime, you are always welcome to come to the Core. But only when you believe the Matrix is ready to come home."

In a blink, she was gone, leaving Optimus in the silence. The mystic device within his chest plate pulsed once, a silent confirmation for her words. He sat there, long after the morning had come, pondering what she said.

I'm not your enemy.

No, but it was hard to grasp she was his friend - though if the Prime was being honest with himself, he had difficulty with making friends his entire life, even as Orion Pax. Maybe it was time to change that.

Maybe, like with a crass medic and lost Decepticon, she could be his first step in the right direction.