Chapter Text
Convoy arose to a question at his bedside. “So, I kind thought you died.”
He turned his helmet towards the source slowly, a deep ache still lingering in his processor from the sedatives. “That’s an exaggeration, my wounds were superficial at best.”
“No, I meant the whole Unicron thing on Earth. I heard you jumped into a void.” Now that got his attention.
“Oh. You are aware.”
“Yup, kind of surprised I didn’t catch it, but I guess we all have our flaws.” He gave Convoy, Optimus, whatever his name was some time to digest the circumstances he had found himself in. “So, I’m sensing another story? Maybe even a little crumb of explanation on the device that transported you during the quantum leap?”
Convoy shook his helm. “Not much of a story to tell, but I will divulge what had occurred if you are so keen.”
Riptide gave him an unimpressed look, raising an optic ridge as if judging him for even implying he wouldn’t want to know more. He wouldn’t press for details if Convoy was uncomfortable, but when he was readily offered answers on a silver platter, it was hard to resist.
Convoy got the message, clearing his intake to begin his story. “I did actually die during the battle. The reason I’m back is precisely because of the device I mentioned. It seems the Lost Light was in the market for mass manufacturing Matrices.”
Riptide gave him his full attention, nodding fervently to get Convoy to continue spinning his tale. Everyone did kind of forget about their resident psychiatrist after their grand battle post euthanasia clinic. Hearing his exploits being brought up again slightly lightened his mood, proving he hadn’t indeed gone insane from the length of their voyage.
“It was my duty, as the eyes of Primus to witness the world in his stead. Not to watch over it as a Prime, but to understand life as a common mech. I have never been granted the privilege of experiencing a true death. Each experience bringing both the joy and sorrows of life as if I had been living in a scripted play, destined to make me experience all that life had to offering regardless of my input. The warmth of the allspark has since rejected me in light of my duty. It became a curse that hung over my head with each passing life cycle. Eventually, I took the cowards way out. My spirit could not endure the pain of separation and renewal that followed each cycle, so I did the one thing I believed could ease my suffering. I erased my memories.”
He heaved a heavy sigh as he brought a hand up to his forehead, bracing himself as he recounted the tale. “A foolish decision. After all, those who do not remember their past are doomed to repeat it. We have been saddled with a 4 million year war thanks to the misgivings of my past incarnation. This was, however, just another chapter in the grand script prepared for me by our liege. The final one. To live and die as a stepping stone for peace. Perhaps it was a final act of mercy, knowing that was the original drive I carried with me throughout my journey. I only ever sought peace in this world rampant with war. Yet I had been doomed to spark one myself.”
His spark ached, just as badly as when he had recounted his perilous journey to becoming a prime. The weight of his sins felt crushing. The knowledge that every life taken directly and indirectly by his hands had been because of his own previous misgivings.
“By the time I came to after I threw myself into the abyss, I was in pain. The memories sealed away kept flooding back mercilessly, relinquishing me of my only hope that I may one day return to the allspark. The journey has ended, and yet I must endure. The energy released by the quantum jump that likely jump started the numerous functional Matrix copies, powering it with enough energy to drag me back from the afterspark.”
He brought his helm back down against his clasped servos in resignation, letting out a heavy sigh.
“I contemplated ending the cycle again, when I realised that there would be no end to my journey. But I ultimately decided to stay.”
He let out a dry chuckle, a humourless laugh at his own recount. “Rather, as I mentioned, I was coerced into staying. It was Ratchet that found me in that dilapidated storage room, clawing out my armoured plating. I remember it as vividly as if it were yesterday.”
“When I told him of my endless quest, he simply responded in turn that we were all in the same boat. That as Megatron had put it ‘Forever sounds about right.’” It sounded in character. The gruff old medic was never one for sappy reunions. Instead, he inspired hope. Boldly proclaiming his belief that the potential of their endless voyage could help the prime find the peace he so desperately sought.
A peaceful world needed no prime. His existence merely served as a reminder of their previous dynasty. An era of enslavement. His true opinions mattered little. The simple fact of his birthright made him an eyesore in the eyes of the council. As long as he existed as Optimus Prime, there could be no peace.
He took another shuddering intake, tracing his digit across the freshly hammered plating and seams left behind after the plating was welded back, concealing the sensitive protoform with a layer of sturdy protection.
“So I live on, in this world where no one shall remember my name. The curse of Adaptus had likely transferred to the Matrices our herald had produced. It was meant as a curse, but I found it rather convenient. It was a chance to live in solitude where I could no longer hurt anyone as long as I lived.” His tone changed. Inflected upwards. He genuinely believed it to be a happy ending.
The thought of such a tragic demise made Riptide uncomfortable. More so than the archivists willingness to endure pain. At least when he pried off his plating, there was a sense of drive. An indomitable spirit that drove his heated actions. Now, that all felt hollow. The once resolute mech now reduced to a fragile soul, trying to find new ways to burying himself in the sands of time. He wanted to disappear.
“That was, until, you waltzed in without care, shattering my reclusion. You remembered me.”
His optics tilted, mustering up what Riptide assumed to be a smile under his battle mask. “Thank you. My friend.” He muttered under his breath. Based on his track record, Riptide could only assume that Convoy was at risk of sinking back into his solitary confinement. Afraid to lose the only bot that had given him a chance to express himself, not as a prime, not as a leader, but as himself. Convoy.
He hadn’t lied about anything, omitting inconvenient details or two to preserve their status quo. He didn’t want Riptide to know. He was ashamed of his own identity. Riptide understood that implication, even if he wasn’t able to grasp its full context, and he wasn’t about to let that fly.
He gave an understanding hum. “It’s getting a little complicated for me to understand, but I think I get the gist. There’s just one thing I want to know.”
Convoy’s intake audibly constricted, waiting on Riptide’s next words as if it were a guillotine about to drop. “Why did you choose to stay? Even if Ratchet gave you the option for redemption, you could have gone anywhere in this new universe. Why remain here?”
The innocent nature of the question shocking him once again. It was a question he never really considered himself. Ratchet had informed him of that, that they had traversed into a separate universe, free from the constraints of their previous one.
Theoretically, he could find another way of life. Leave this ship full of familiar faces that reminded him of his sordid past, and chase a new dream far away from any of his concerns.
But he didn’t. He stayed right here, living amongst the last vestiges of his past despite his desperate attempts at freeing himself of it. Deep down, he knew the reason.
“Though I may have sinned, the very worst of my mistakes have been sprung from my unwillingness to face my own fears and responsibilities. I have been running from them for over 4 million years. I do not wish to do so any longer.”
Riptide smiled, the resolution of his companion gave him a strange sensation, a feeling of pride. The mech that had been so willing to curl up and let himself waste away in their basement now refueled with purpose.
“I’m probably not gonna be able to wrap my head around the whole destiny and reincarnation thing, but to sum it up, you’ve been given another lease on life without a directive this time yeah? Then all the more reason for you to enjoy it!” He exclaimed.
“Now, we have more pressing issues. I have a list I’m about to share with you, and I’m gonna need your honest opinion.” He immediately began to list out some of the potential hobbies he had that he could push onto Convoy with his newfound knowledge that Convoy likely had experience in an aquatic altmode during some point of his existence.
“I was thinking we could try surfing, I’ve always wanted to bring someone down to the waters, but we’ve got way too many ground and air vehicles here who are wayyy to unadventurous-”
“I do not understand…” Convoy shot back, trying to decipher the current position he was in. His head bowed, ashamed to meet the optics of his friend. “Are you not upset in me for omitting the truth? Fearful of my capacity for destruction? Have I not disappointed you as friend?”
“Not especially. You do all that to yourself, enough for the both of us. Besides, you’re aboard the Lost Light. Crazier slag happens literally every other cycle. Don’t beat yourself up too much over it. Now where was I on that list- Right! I’ve always wanted to try wakeboarding!” He continued to prattle on, ignoring the look of disbelief Convoy had shot his way.
They sat there for a long time, Riptide taking his time to detail every last unfulfilled interest that he wasn’t able to complete because of his lack of companionship. Convoy listened with keen interest, taking in the serenity of the scene.
Riptide sat the side of the berth, taking Convoy’s limp servo into his own, tracing reassuring lines across the underside of the palm. As fatigue took him over, Convoy turned his helm to face Riptide again, hanging limp just barely short of hitting the flat surface of the berth. “Thank you. For remaining as my friend.” He muttered, drifting off into a peaceful slumber brought about by the oral medication.
By the time he wrapped up his list, it was past the crew’s ‘recommended curfew’ (courteously suggested by Ultra Magnus himself). He noticed Convoy’s semi-unconscious state, opting to give his friend’s hand a comforting squeeze before release it to place neatly back at his side.
“Of course, that’s what friends are for.” He smiled. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
—-
When he woke up the next morning to the sound of his blaring alarm, he onlined his optics, noticing a notification on his HUD.
>PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE
FROM DESIGNATION: CONVOY
TO DESIGNATION: RIPTIDE
MESSAGE TITLE: An Invitation
I recall having another embarrassing outburst yesterday. I apologise for springing such a heavy topic onto you again. Perhaps I can make it up to you?
- -1 IMAGE ATTACHED- -
> END TRANSMISSION
He blinked at the screen, clicking on the invite out of habit, before jumping at the attachment. The image depicted an all too familiar doorway, incandescent lights streaming into the hallway from behind the slightly ajar door.
It’s was taken at an awkward angle, but clear enough for him to positively identify the location. It was Swerve’s.
They were going to be great friends.
Concessions aside, he had a more pressing matter. He kicked himself of the berth, getting himself ready to greet the day with gusto. He shelved away the list of tasks of the day, before trudging down the familiar halls down towards the basement. First, he had a job to get to.