"I thought gods were immortal?" Megatron's voice quavers slightly. Losing her in a few thousand years isn't something he's ready to face. "I'm not going to worry about it. Somehow I've got out of the habit of expecting to die by the end of the day. I'm starting to think like a person who believes in a future. When did that happen? The war hasn't been over that long..."

After a moment, he realises this might be ridiculous. Even if he never leaves the Nexus again, there are plenty of people who still want to kill him, and the anti-violence field is not perfect.

"I'm going to believe you're right," he says, "especially since you've come back once already. I'm going to believe you'll be here as long as you're wanted and needed. So. Probably at least three million years. I've somehow managed to reach an age where mechs start to feel older rather than younger, but I'm not on the downslope yet. Most Cybertronians don't die of old age."

He lifts their joined hands to his lips and kisses her fingertips. "What's beautiful? Us? I agree." He smiles and looks up at the sky. Planets and stars move. A million years from now, when they are lying here, what will the stars look like, then?

"Do you realise that you're subconsciously planning to spend the rest of your life with me?" He kisses the back of her hand. "I want that too. I don't care if it's crazy. I've decided we get to be happy, now."