#well hey. at least with this I got practice for writing Prowl’s voice :P

[novafire-is-thinking]

nono tell us the angst i wanna hear it

You asked. You are receiving :)

Rodimus never liked looking back much, but here he found himself, scrolling through old photos in the dark of his room. For some reason, the cracks on his phone screen seemed worse than before. He’d never bothered with repairs, as the device had continued working just fine. It wasn’t like he could afford to get it fixed anyway. The last few years hadn’t been kind, and the future didn’t look much better, which was probably why he was willing to look backwards to get a taste of better times.

When he made it back far enough to the moments he captured during the Lost Light adventure— his Lost Light adventure, he lingered on each one a little longer than the last.

A group pic of the entire medical crew, including that Decepticon mechanic— what was her name? Nickel?

A video of Drift getting his ass kicked by Cyclonus in a duel.

Magnus in the supersized armor Brainstorm had slapped together for the showdown with the DJD.

Soon, Rodimus was tired of keeping company with nostalgia. There was no use looking back when those days and those feelings were long-gone.

He began swiping faster, not really having a goal in mind except to escape the pull of the sadness that was trying to settle inside him. Drift was better with feelings. He’d often teased Rodimus about that fact.

I miss you, Drift. My feelings felt safe when you were around. Nowadays, they just taunt me.

Familiar gray flew across the screen beneath his thumb. Rodimus swiped back until he found the source.

A small laugh escaped him. The photo was one of many selfies he’d taken during his adventure. What set it apart from the others was a camera-shy Megatron in the background, trying his best to avoid the picture by sliding his head down into his chest.

Rodimus didn’t have many photos with Megatron. It was ironic that the guy who spent most of his life in the spotlight commanding armies and not-armies turned out to hate focused attention. Then again, drawing up battle plans and bossing others around is very different from being forced to do almost nothing while having a picture taken.

That thought struck something deep inside Rodimus. He realized he understood Megatron, in this respect. They were different in many ways, but they both had trouble just being. Forward momentum was everything to both of them. Rodimus chased the thrill of the next exciting thing while Megatron had chased the thrill of power. Of conquest.

Part of him fought against the newfound revelation, but another part of him welcomed it. The sudden need to share this with Megatron rose up within him.

But reality followed closely behind.

Megatron was gone.

The trial had taken place several years ago—the exact year forgotten by Rodimus. The memory that spilled back into his consciousness first was of the crowds surrounding Raskol Arena.

The arena. That horrible, beautiful arena.

He remembered the angry crowd of bots, many of whom were holding signs stained with their own energon. The message was clear. Decepticons blamed Megatron for leading them down a path with nothing but pain to show for it while the Autobots blamed him for that and everything else. Neutrals weren’t any less angry for their own reasons.

As usual, Rodimus had arrived late. He nearly got his head smashed in by angry spectators as he shoved his way through them to get into the stadium. Similar to last time, a limit had been placed on how many were allowed into the stadium with pre-approved individuals taking priority before regular civilians were allowed inside. This meant most of those who had come to watch were forced to stay outside, which did nothing to ease the tension.

Compared to the last attempt at a trial, security was much tighter. Rodimus had struggled to get proper clearance until Prowl intervened. He was the last bot Rodimus expected to speak on his behalf, but he was grateful. Rodimus had hoped to get information from Prowl about the planned proceedings, but the weary strategist was locked into “job mode” and wouldn’t share anything as he helped Rodimus find a spot from where he could watch without trouble.

With a sharp comment about not being late next time if he wants to get in, Prowl turned around quickly and walked off. Rodimus watched Prowl until the tips of his gold chevron disappeared into the crowd. I’ll ask someone else later, then.

The first day of proceedings went relatively smoothly. This time, it was the Galactic Council that had gathered to preside over the trial, but it was no less tense. Witnesses were called up. Heated words were exchanged. Nothing new.

Day two arrived, and Rodimus managed to show up on time, by some miracle. Drift was waiting for him. He said something about Prowl sending him to keep an eye out for a certain straggler. They both knew what he’d meant.

Drift led Rodimus to their seats. As soon as they sat down, Drift caught Rodimus up on everything Prowl had told him.

Oh, so he’ll talk to the former Decepticon, but not me?

Rodimus was glad he didn’t put much effort into trying to understand Prowl. He figured he’d probably end up driving himself crazy. But if Rodimus was honest with himself, he was glad guys like Prowl existed, despite how much he hated being around him. Rodimus knew he wouldn’t be any good in Prowl’s position as a prosecutor, especially in a trial as huge as Megatron’s.

The day was as uneventful as the first one. Besides the angry crowd outside and the occasional disruption, everyone remained relatively civil as witness after witness was called up. It was almost eerie.

Each day after that, Rodimus managed to arrive on time, and Drift was always there to meet him.

Eventually, Rodimus gave his testimony on behalf of Megatron. It was the last day of the trial, and everyone was anxious to be done with it. Rodimus was torn between wanting it to be over and dreading the end.

During a recess, Rodimus met up with Magnus, who escorted him to Megatron’s cell for what he assumed was his final visit.

To Rodimus, Megatron seemed oddly serene for someone about to be sentenced either to death or infinite imprisonment. As they talked, Rodimus guessed that, like him, Megatron had more to say, but was holding back. However, unlike Drift, he wasn’t any good at coaxing others to open up, so he let those words go unspoken.

When Ultra Magnus returned and announced that a verdict had been reached, Rodimus fell silent. He watched as Magnus and Megatron said their goodbyes and let Megatron say his final piece.

Sure, Megatron deserved much more than whatever was coming to him, but it still saddened Rodimus to hear it from his friend.

Friend.

Yes. Rodimus was finally ready to admit that, against all odds, Megatron had indeed become a friend to him. It was a bit late to accept it, but he refused to fight it this time.

Before he had a chance to say anything to Megatron, the former warlord was on his way back to the sentencing chamber with Ultra Magnus. Rodimus looked down at the broken Rodimus Star in his hand and ran his thumb over the cracks and the jagged edge where a piece was missing.

With resolve, he ran as fast as he could to join everyone else for the declaration of the final verdict. He located Drift in the frenzy of anxious spectators, and the two of them made their way to their seats.

Despite the lack of a roof, the entire place felt suffocating to Rodimus as the Galactic Council took their seats and requested that Megatron stand to his feet. Ultra Magnus rose with him.

The silence of the crowd was unnerving. Rodimus noticed Prowl and several security guards step up onto the elevated platform, closing in around Megatron and Magnus. They expected trouble.

As soon as the words “to be executed” were uttered, the silence was shattered by a deafening roar from the crowd inside the stadium and from outside its walls.

Within moments, the shouts of victory were replaced with shouts of anger and panic. Absolute chaos ensued. Rodimus looked back and registered a wave of bots pouring in. The crowd outside had broken through security forces and was pouring into the stadium at a stampede’s pace from multiple entrances, even some that had been previously closed off. Those already inside began to panic.

On instinct, Rodimus grabbed Drift and started making his way toward the middle of the stadium, as he figured that was where everyone would inevitably be pushed. It was better than possibly getting trampled, and some crazy part of him still hoped to say something—anything to Megatron one last time.

Rodimus noticed Prowl standing in front of Megatron on the elevated platform, shouting commands over comms and directing security forces to surround the two of them, Magnus, and the Galactic Council.

Nice going, Prowl. You might make my energon boil, but I’ll admit you’re pretty damn good at keeping people alive when all hell breaks loose.

Drift had no trouble keeping up with Rodimus. The two of them darted and wormed their way through the obstacle course of panicked bots. Whatever barriers were put in place did nothing to stop the frenzied mass of bodies making its way toward the middle of the stadium.

Those who had flight-capable alt modes took to the skies and escaped that way. Some with ground modes transformed, but with nowhere to go, they were pushed around or climbed over.

Rodimus abandoned himself to the rush of adrenaline surging through him. He and Drift were close to reaching the center when the crowd suddenly shifted and closed in further.

The pathway to Megatron was blocked.

Despite his best attempts, Rodimus was unable to break through. Beside him, Drift looked ready to draw both of his swords, as things were quickly going from bad to worse with bots getting trampled several rows behind them, if one could even call them rows.

Megatron and the rest of the middle group were secure within their ring of security guards, although things were getting tight there too.

A break in the crowd opened up for a split-second, allowing Rodimus and Drift to move a few feet closer to the inner circle.

Now close enough for Megatron to see him, Rodimus began waving both his hands above his head and shouting Megatron’s name. Never mind the fact that it was way too loud to hear each other speak if he did manage to get his attention. Rodimus just wanted one last something from Megatron. In all likelihood, this was the last time they’d lay eyes on each other, and Rodimus refused to let him go without a last goodbye.

Drift joined him in trying to get Megatron’s attention. The two of them had made it this far together, and Rodimus found himself smiling at how ridiculous they must look to everyone else.

Finally, Megatron noticed them. He locked eyes with Rodimus first, and then Drift.

He smiled.

Rodimus liked to think that if Megatron had been uncuffed, he would have waved back at them. Now that they’d seen each other, Rodimus and Drift stopped waving, unsure of what to do next.

The smile on Megatron’s face faded. A somber look was in its place, and he appeared to be contemplating something.

After a moment, he met Rodimus’ eyes again and shouted something.

Unable to hear above the steadily increasing panic around them, Rodimus stared at Megatron in confusion. The guards were beginning to close in further around the inner circle and pull him out of sight.

Megatron tried again, but this time, he chose not to use his voice and instead focused on mouthing the words:

Thank you.

He looked at Drift and did the same.

Before Rodimus could fully register what Megatron had said, he was out of sight. Then Prowl yelled at Soundwave over comms.

Something pierced the air—a sound so deafening it was disorienting. Everyone covered their audio receptors, doubled over in pain, or both.

It didn’t take long for bots on the outer edges to start making their way out of the stadium, gradually freeing up space inside.

Once the stadium was empty enough, the sound ceased. Using the stadium’s PA system, Prowl coldly apologized for the disturbance and asked everyone who remained to vacate the premises. Calmly.

Drift was ready to leave, but Rodimus had other plans. He waited until almost everyone had cleared out before trotting back toward the center where Prowl was. As he approached him, he noticed a piece of Prowl’s chevron was missing on the left side, probably lost during the commotion of earlier.

As soon as the strategist laid eyes on him, he scowled.

“Did Soundwave’s trick make you deaf? I told everyone to leave.”

“Oh, so that was Soundwave, was it? Not surprised you had a plan.”

Prowl scoffed. “Of course I had a plan. All those bots in one place during the biggest trial in Cybertronian history wasn’t going to end any other way.”

“Maybe not,” Rodimus replied.

They fell into an awkward silence.

Prowl shifted. “Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of.”

Rodimus pulled out the broken Rodimus Star and held it, feeling the jagged edge again. He glanced up at Prowl.

“You should probably get that fixed,” he said, gesturing to the damaged chevron. The old red peeked out from under the gold.

Prowl lifted his hand and felt where Rodimus had pointed. “Great. It’s broken again.”

“Again?” Rodimus questioned.

“Long story. Not telling. Just get to your point, unless you’re really wasting my time by giving me aesthetic recommendations.”

Rodimus chuckled. “Same old Prowl.”

“You have no idea.”

“Yeah, I probably don’t. Anyway”—Rodimus held out the Rodimus Star to Prowl— “Thought I’d give you this.”

Prowl stared blankly at the gold star. “What is it?”

“Consider it an award for keeping people alive today.”

This earned Rodimus a glare.

“Why would I want a worthless trinket for doing my job?”

Rodimus sighed. “It’s not a ‘worthless trinket,’ Prowl. It’s something I would give to members of my crew for doing something I thought should be recognized. Something they’re good at.”

Prowl considered the explanation. “I see.”

Based on the skepticism in Prowl’s voice, Rodimus guessed he was thinking of every reason why it was ridiculous. It was a star. With Rodimus’ face on it.

He held the star up to Prowl’s face. “Just take it, okay? I don’t care if you think it’s stupid.”

Prowl took the star from Rodimus and scrutinized it.

Rodimus continued. “And don’t you dare throw it out or lose the thing somewhere. It…It means a lot to me and someone else I know.”

Once satisfied that Prowl was serious about keeping his reward, Rodimus turned to leave.

“Thank you,” came Prowl’s delayed response.

Rodimus turned around and gave Prowl a thumbs-up and a smile as he jogged back towards Drift who’d been patiently waiting for him near the exit.

Rodimus smiled sadly at the memories.

He thought about how Megatron had been taken away before he’d had a chance to respond to him.

He thought about Prowl and wondered if the guy still had that silly little star.

The photo on his phone beckoned him again. Rodimus ran the tip of his thumb over the cracked phone screen, noticing this time how the cracks over Megatron’s half-hidden face were the worst.

“You’re welcome, Megs.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Rodimus pulled up Prowl’s old number and sent the photo to him with two words:

“You’re welcome.”