The glow of the Nemesis's corridors was cold and clinical, a far cry from the warm light of Cybertron’s grand libraries. Orion Pax walked with careful, measured steps, his optics flitting to the architecture, the machinery, the drones that scurried past on errands he couldn't begin to understand. This place was alien to him, as was the war-torn state of his world, yet it was all the home he had now.

The Decepticons—Megatron's faction, as he understood—had taken him in. Megatronus, his mind corrected, the name lingering like a fond echo in his spark. The warlord had assured him of his place here, promised him purpose amidst the chaos. Yet, Orion felt unmoored, as though the universe had shifted on its axis, leaving him scrambling to make sense of a reality that refused to align with his fragmented memories.

Orion's servos trailed lightly over a console as he passed, the faint hum of its systems resonating with a sense of familiarity. Six million years—a yawning chasm in his memory. What could have transpired in such an expanse of time?

And then there was Megatronus—Megatron, he reminded himself again. The mech was no longer the passionate revolutionary Orion remembered, but a commanding and enigmatic figure who loomed over the Nemesis with a presence that demanded respect.

He couldn't help but wonder what had happened between them in the time he'd lost. The closeness they’d shared in the past had been profound, a bond forged in ideals and tempered by their shared vision for Cybertron. But now… now it was hard to tell. Did Megatronus still see him as the friend who had stood beside him in the archives, debating philosophy and dreaming of a better world?

Orion sighed softly, pausing at an observation window overlooking the stars. His optics traced their patterns, but his processor churned with unanswered questions. The Decepticons offered knowledge, resources, and tasks to occupy his days, but not answers to the questions that truly mattered.

Not answers about his unspoken beloved.