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Usually, pain was easy enough to block out. Megatron had had many wounds even before the war, so he knew how to focus on the fight instead of the hurt. He knew how to ignore the pain at least long enough to finish the fight, to finish the mission.
Of course, the one time it really mattered was the one time his processor refused to cooperate with him, and he could only watch as the little Terran - a child, of all things - flew to do what should have been his job. His risk. The others - more children, more innocents - followed her, and it was only the repeated assurance in his head that Optimus was out there, Optimus would watch them, Optimus and his Autobots could help, that made him capable of not yelling at the Terran to get back, to leave it to the adults, to stay safe.
Because Megatron knew that sometimes children had to fight. Bumblebee was born into war and had been fighting all his life. Megatron, back then only a letter and number, had been born into a different kind of fight, a different horror, but a fight all the same. Too many children had to fight to survive, had to fight for a cause, had to fight for something. But it was something that he’d never wanted to see again.
Yet here they were, three just-born Terrans, without weapons or vehicle modes, fighting for their lives with two more who were barely older, and two human children without even a protective shell. It scared him enough when Dorothy would put herself on the line, but her children? His spark felt like it was going to tear apart from the sheer terror he felt when a shot got too close to one of them, when an arachnimech would swing just a hair away from soft flesh, and he could do nothing to help. He attempted to raise his cannon arm, to try and get a shot in even if he couldn’t fight, but his arm was barely hanging onto his body. Energon poured out of his wounds, creating a pink river down his side as his vision blurred for a moment. He felt something warm on his leg and looked down, focusing on the little human that had stayed by his side.
Dorothy had a determined look on her face as she said, “Think you can help me up to the ship?”
Despite the pain, Megatron grinned.
After checking on her kids and giving Twitch a firm we’ll talk later look, Dorothy had gone to stand next to Megatron’s side where he was sitting on one of the crushed cars, gingerly holding his arm to his chest so that it wouldn’t move. He’d refused Optimus’s help - friends or not, he still wasn’t sure about letting the Autobot get that close to his weak points.
“You’ve looked better.” Dorothy commented, placing her hand on his foot.
“I’m fine.” He muttered, avoiding her gaze by watching her children run around, high on the adrenaline of the fight.
“That’s why you’re sitting here barely moving instead of celebrating with everyone else.” She nudged him with her elbow, her eyebrow raised.
“I’m not one to party.”
“Megs, just tell me honestly. How much pain are you in?” Dorothy backed away and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips.
Something about this tiny human, all flesh with no armor or weapons, treating him like he was an insubordinate rooky didn’t make him angry. Instead, he let himself soften slightly, letting a little bit of pain show in his expression. “...Maybe it hurts a bit.”
“A bit?”
“A lot.” He corrected, unable to stop the smile from creeping onto his face. He used his uninjured servo to poke her in the shoulder. “But you’re not my mother, you’re theirs.” He nodded to the children, “I’ve handled far worse alone.”
“But you shouldn’t have too.” Dorothy grabbed his digit and held it in her hand, “This family does things together. You’re a part of the family, Megs.”
Megatron huffed, “Hardly.”
“You are.” She insisted, “Let me help. I can’t hurt you either, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
He highly doubted that she was incapable of hurting him, but it was useless to refute her. “We don’t exactly have a first-aid kit out here.” He said instead.
“You’re not losing energon anymore, so it should be safe enough to get home. I have two-” She looked over at the children, “Five terran kids, so I’ve got stuff for basic Cybertronian first-aid.”
“Ghost has plenty too. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t like Ghost.” Dorothy climbed up onto the car to sit next to him, “I don’t think you’d let them touch you. Just come home with us, I can fix you up.”
She was right, of course, but he didn’t have to admit it. “I’m fine.” When Dorothy didn’t say anything, he looked down at her. She was staring up at him with her arms crossed and an expression on her face like she’d already won the argument. “I’m fine, Dorothy.”
If she was going to respond, she didn’t get the chance to. Footsteps caught both of their attention, Twitch wringing her hands out as she got closer. “Are you going to come home with us, Megatron?”
Megatron almost said no, almost continued the argument he was having with Dorothy, but the expression on the little one’s face made him change his mind. She looked worried, her eyes wide and her servos shaking. It was the last detail that finally made him sigh and say, “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Dorothy knew how to patch Cybertronians up, and did so with incredible proficiency. Only a few hours after the battle, Megatron’s arm was tight with a fresh wield and his side was clean of energon as he sat in the backyard of the little Malto farmhouse. Optimus had gone with Ghost to explain everything to the authorities, and the newest Terrans were running around, exploring everything with Thrash and the human children leading the way. The only signs of there ever having been a fight were Megatron’s wounds and Twitch’s nervous, slow flying around the barn. Dorothy had expressed worry over the smallest Terran, telling Megatron that it wasn’t normal for her to be so low energy. Megatron was almost certain he knew what was wrong, but he would let her bring it up with someone when she wanted to.
Later that night, she did.
He was resting, his back against the barn and his optics closed, when the familiar sounds of transformation reached his audio receptors. He looked around, catching Twitch’s optic as she hesitantly took a step forward. “Yes?” He asked, sitting up straighter.
“I…I wanted to ask you something.” Twitch said, avoiding eye contact. “If that’s okay.”
Megatron nodded, “Ask away.”
“How…how do you-” Twitch paused and rubbed her fingers together. “I-I’m not sure how to…um…maybe I should have thought this through.”
“Take your time.” Megatron said, patting the ground next to him. “Come sit.”
She brightened slightly, “Thank you.” She almost bounced over to sit next to him, completely dwarfed by his larger size. She scooted so close that she was almost touching him, “Um…okay, uh…” She took a vent, calming herself down. “Did…what was your first battle like?”
Megatron tilted his head slightly, “My first fight? Or my first battle during the war?”
“First fight, I guess.”
“I lost.”
“What?” Twitch’s optics widened, full of surprise. “You did?”
“I did. I picked a fight with two enforcers after they decided to cut back on my section’s energon rations. I nearly lost my legs to those two. But I kept going, and here I am.” He’d expected a laugh, or maybe more questions, but instead Twitch got quiet again. “...Twitch, what are you really here to ask me?”
Twitch pressed her back into the barn wall, “...Today scared me.”
“Of course it did. Your first real fight isn’t going to leave you without scars.”
“It wasn’t really my first fight. I fought Soundwave.”
“You threw yourself into danger today. Soundwave was dangerous, yes, but his real fight was with me and Optimus. Meridian wanted to hurt all of us, and it was a far more intense battle.” Megatron put his servo on her shoulder, “You shouldn’t have had to put yourself into that danger. You’re young and inexperienced.”
“What if someone had died?” She asked, her voice small. “I made a quick decision and Mom-Mom said I could have been hurt. I knew that, but…but what if someone I love had died because of me?”
Megatron paused, thinking. He wasn’t too good with reassurances, often leaving that to others, but she’d come to him for a reason. “Sometimes that happens. It's happened to me, it's happened to Optimus. But no one died today. I was the only one really hurt, and I’m practically fine now. Don’t dwell on what-ifs.”
“But you said overconfidence often ends in rubble. What if it’s not me in the rubble?”
“I don’t think that today’s final stretch was overconfidence. I was incapable of doing what needed to be done, and you made the best call you could in the heat of battle. Everyone is fine, because of you.”
Twitch kicked at the dirt, “Mom said I shouldn’t have gone out there by myself.”
“She worries about you, of course she would say that.” Megatron looked away for a moment, “I’ve been on the receiving end of that worry. It’s because she cares.”
“I know.” Twitch still looked conflicted.
“I’d be proud to fight by your side, when you’re older.” Megatron nudged her, “Just…be careful. I’d like not to lose you or your siblings any time soon.”
“No…me either.” Twitch sighed. “You think I made the right call today?”
“I have an overcomplicated answer to that that I’ll give you later. For now, yes. I think you did.”
“...okay.” Twitch finally seemed to let herself relax a little bit. Megatron didn’t continue the conversation, letting himself do the same as he felt the child press against his side. He decided that just this once, he would let his guard down for the child's sake, and he adjusted so that she could curl into him easier. The evening air was cool against his wounds, and he could vaguely see Dorothy at the window of her house, watching the two of them. She wasn’t always as slick as she thought she was. The two of them stayed that way for a long time, watching the stars appear one by one in the sky.
Then Twitch shifted again, and she asked sleepily, “Can I call you Dad Three?”