Chapter Text
“Orion I’m being serious sit still,” Ratchet scolded, shoving Orion back into the chair as he continued to run diagnostic checks.
He’d been… off lately. A lot of bots noticed. Even Elita noticed. He’d been tired, seeming to be running on fumes despite fully refueling. He was tired enough that he wasn’t talking everyone’s audials off the whole shift, which in itself was unusual.
Dee finally put his pede down and forced Orion to go see Ratchet.
“I’m going to beat your aft if you end up offlining because you’re stupid and wouldn’t go see a medic,” he’d said, nearly dragging Orion back to their barracks. “So either you go on your own, or I knock you out and take you there myself.”
Orion had picked the easier route and just gone to see Ratchet himself.
However, that didn’t mean he was behaving himself. Ratchet’s tiny clinic reeked of disinfectant and rust, and there was barely enough room for two cogless bots to roam freely. That didn’t even mention the glitching diagnostic machines and outdated scanners. The entire experience was always deeply uncomfortable, even if Ratchet was feeling particularly friendly that day, and Orion would rather be anywhere else but there.
“How much longer? Cause I promise it’s not that bad, honest, I think Dee is just being paranoid. I’m just a little tired,” he said, trying to convince Ratchet to just let him go back to the barracks and recharge.
Ratchet was strangely quiet, optics trained on the data pad he’d hooked into one of the old diagnostic machines. The medic banged on the side of the machine a few times, causing Orion to twitch where it was connected to his medical ports.
“Orion, how long have you been carrying?” He finally asked, voice tight with something Orion couldn’t identify.
Orion cocked his helm to the side, confusion written all over his face. Carrying? He didn’t have anything in his subspace, he wasn’t carrying anything. Ratchet seemed to sense his confusion and let out a long suffering sigh, dragging a chair to sit in front of his patient.
“A sparkling Orion. You’re sparked.”
Orion's processor ground to a halt. A sparkling? An honest to Primus sparkling? He looked down at his chassis, as if expecting to see something different, some noticeable change, but all he saw was the same red chipped paint.
“I can’t be,” he finally managed to get out, optics meeting Ratchet’s swimming with confusion. “I’m cogless, Dee’s cogless, we can’t…”
Ratchet threw his servos up into the air and let out a series of curses, stomping off to a shelf and digging through it.
“Yes you can, that is a stupid myth mechs came up with because cogless don’t have sparklings. I told them. I told them to just let me do a short instructional class. I told them what would happen, but does anyone listen to me? No! Of course not!”
Ratchet came back with a data pad, handing it to Orion, forcing it into his servos when the miner was too shocked to move on his own.
“You should’ve been taught proper interface safety, all of you should’ve. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know, but you have options,” Ratchet sat back down as he spoke, going through his own data pad and muttering to himself.
“Options?” Orion finally managed to croak out, finally onlining the data pad to see a clinical description of interface, and a few diagrams of what looked like sparkling development.
“For the new spark. We caught it soon enough that it hasn’t dropped to your forge yet, which means it’ll be a lot easier to get it out. The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be, but I can still do it -“
“What do you mean take it out?” Orion interrupted. If he’d just been sparked, then it definitely wasn’t ready to come out yet, at least not from what Orion knew.
Ratchet gave him a look he finally recognized as pity, sighing deeply. He put the data pad down and sat back in his chair.
“You want to keep it then?”
Orion suddenly realized with startling clarity what Ratchet meant earlier and instinctively curled up around his chassis. Ratchet sighed and put his servos up in mock surrender.
“Look, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but I’m also not going to dance around things here. You’re in a bad spot. There’s a reason you don’t see cogless bots with sparklings, beyond them just having a very difficult time carrying. Pretty much every one that’s come to me sparked has taken the option to get rid of it and spare themselves the pain. If you manage to carry to term, that alone will be a miracle with all the heavy labor you’re doing. That doesn’t even begin to factor in the supervisors I know are too heavy handed to be safe, especially to you since you tend to cause trouble.”
Orion’s spark sank. The spark that, according to the data pad in his servos, currently had a little new spark orbiting it. It was all so much to learn at once.
“You really don’t think I could…”
“Orion, we both know that miners barely get enough energon for themselves, do you seriously think you can also provide enough for a whole other bot on your rations? Even if you and D-16 combine your efforts, the chance is slim you’d be able to care for it if by some miracle you make it to emergence.”
Orion clutched the data pad tightly. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost feel the tiny extra pulse of the new spark. He looked back up at Ratchet, fidgeting with his own servos.
“Could I think about it? And talk to Dee first?” He asked hesitantly. It was all so much to take in, and he needed at least a few cycles to get his helm on straight.
Ratchet nodded, taking one of Orion’s servos and squeezing it comfortingly.
“Of course you can. In the mean time, I’m going to give you what supplements I have to help keep you going. Come back here when you’ve made your choice okay? End all be all, you have every bit of information I can give you, and you’re as well informed as you can be. It’s your frame, you get to make the call. Just make sure that data pad gets passed around, we don’t need any more accidents.”
Orion numbly took the supplements he was given, walking back to the barracks in a daze. He was sparked. There was a little new spark inside of him right now. He and Dee had made a little them, and he was carrying it in his spark chamber right now.
He realized about halfway back that Ratchet was right. Even if he could carry the sparkling long enough to actually have it emerge, he and Dee couldn’t keep it fueled. Scrap, they could barely keep themselves fueled, especially with Orion getting his rations cut regularly for misbehavior.
He needed a plan. He’d already begun to grow attached to the idea of the sparkling, of a family. His daydream of himself and Dee in a prosperous Iacon changed and evolved to include a sparkling. Getting to raise a little bitlet that looked like both of them, teach them about the world around them, watch them succeed and be there when they failed.
Orion’s spark ached. He wanted that. He wanted it so badly.
His processor started racing, searching for any answer he could find, any way he could keep their sparkling and not just put them in danger. He stopped in his tracks as an idea hit him.
The archives.
The Matrix.
If he sped up his investigation, did more to look, did more to show the rest of cogged society that cogless bots deserved more and could be more, maybe there was a chance. If they didn’t have to mine anymore, if Cybertron was fixed, they could have their family. Orion’s steps picked up until he nearly collided with the solid form of another bot.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” Dee teased, steadying him easily. “Ratchet scare you that bad?”
Orion let out a strained laugh, continuing toward his recharge station.
“Wasn’t that bad, just tired, told you. He gave me these supplements to help me get more energy, and I’ll be fine.”
D-16 didn’t say anything for a while, and when Orion turned back around, he looked concerned.
“You’re sure everything is alright?” He asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.
Orion swallowed around the lump in his intake. He should tell him. He should tell Dee about the sparkling, it’s his too.
As soon as he opened his intake to say something, he shut it again.
“Everything is fine. Cross my spark,” he said instead.
Orion couldn’t bear the thought of getting Dee’s hopes up only to disappoint them both later. He’d help find the Matrix and fix everything, and then when life was better he’d tell him. He’d tell them and then they could all three be a family.
———————
The first thing Orion registered after the bang from D-16’s canon was the look of utter horror on his face. At first he had no clue what had happened, the scent of burning energon filling the air.
It took a few klicks to realize it was coming from him.
D-16 had shot him.
Dee had shot him.
The realization had pure shock overwhelming every other emotion.
Then came the physical pain.
It was paralyzing, more pain than he’d ever felt in his life. He couldn’t move his arm at all, and he dimly felt himself sliding across the ground. He couldn’t get his frame to cooperate, he couldn’t get anything to work right.
Everything hurt.
A million flashing alerts crossed his vision.
[WARNING: FRAME INTEGRITY COMPROMISED]
[WARNING: LEFT ARM OFFLINE]
[WARNING: ENERGON LINE RUPTURE]
[WARNING: SPARK CASING RUPTURE]
They came one after another, crowding his vision as his optics flickered.
Then he was weightless for only a klick before a familiar servo grabbed onto him.
Orion managed to get his optics to focus enough that he could see D-16, the utter anguish on his face, the tears streaming from his optics. He could barely tell what he was saying, his audials making everything sound like it was full of static.
He watched his friend, his lover, his other half’s face harden. Dee had been changing so much across their journey to find the Matrix. D-16 was almost like a completely different bot, and the path he was going down terrified Orion.
Now look where that path had lead them.
“Dee. No,” he managed to choke out, trying one last time as he felt his frame going cold to convince D-16 to give up his reckless campaign of revenge.
When Dee looked back up to meet his optics, the beautiful molten gold that Orion had loved so much was completely replaced by a burning crimson. The mech he’d loved was gone.
“I’m done saving you”
And with that final word, Orion fell, his optics shuttering as his frame greyed.
“I’m sorry,” he thought as he felt his systems shutting down.
“I’m so sorry”
———————
“Arise! Optimus Prime”
Orion, no Optimus, felt awareness return to him in a jolt.
He wasn’t offline.
He was bigger now, stronger, and he could feel the pulse of energy from the Matrix in his chest.
He was Prime.
He glanced back at the glowing visages of the fallen Primes, feeling the yank in his frame back toward the surface. He knew he had to stop whatever was happening. It was his purpose. He had the Matrix, he could save Cybertron. But everything in his processor ground to a halt when he saw Alpha Tryon ushering a tiny spark of light closer to the core of the planet.
And suddenly Optimus was just Orion Pax again, staring at that same little light on a data pad.
“Wait!” He yelled, reaching for the little spark as the other Primes turned in shock.
“Please, you can’t take him, he’s just a new spark.” Optimus wasn’t sure exactly how he knew the little spark was a he, but it felt right.
A momentary look of pity crossed Alpha Trion’s serene face before he heard a voice that seemed to echo in his helm.
“Your concern is Cybertron, Optimus. He will be cared for until he emerges from the Well once more. This will not be the end.”
Optimus fought against the overwhelming force trying to push him back toward the surface, reaching for the little spark. His little sparkling. The last thing left of D-16.
“Please! You don’t understand, I did it all for him. I gave up everything for him. He never got to have a life, and all I wanted was to give him one, please!”
The planet itself seemed to rumble in consideration as Optimus stared desperately at the ghostly Primes in front of him.
“I’ll do anything, ANYTHING, I promise, just give him back to me. It’s not his fault, none of this is his fault.”
The voice sounded softer, sadder when it finally responded.
“You understand you cannot protect him from what is to come. Nor can you spare yourself the pain.”
Optimus nodded frantically. He didn’t care what he had to do. As long as he got his sparkling back. Whatever was going to happen he could handle, he just needed him back.
Without a word, Optimus’s chest plating parted without him even trying. Optimus watched as Alpha Trion held out his massive servo, letting the tiny spark slowly drift toward him. When it got close enough, it darted back for its home orbiting Optimus’s spark, darting around the Matrix to settle in its rightful place. His plating closed again, sealing the little new spark behind armor built for battle.
“Thank you,” Optimus managed to say, placing a servo over his spark as he was catapulted toward the surface.
He could do it.
He could fix this, fix Cybertron, for the little one held safely in his spark chamber.
———————
“….timus. Optimus. OPTIMUS”
Optimus’s optics flickered online, sorting through the haze of warning messages until he could see Elita in front of him. Her optics were wide with shock and worry, the ground rumbling with the force of aerial fire hitting the surface. Everything hit him in a rush.
The battle.
They’d been fighting.
They’d turned the tide on the Decepticons, forcing them to retreat.
And then the pain had started.
Optimus’s audials finally managed to pick up another noise over the far off fighting. A soft squeaking cry, tinged with static like whatever it was had been crying for a while.
He knew what it was.
Deep down he knew what it was.
And it broke his spark that this was how it happened. That his little one had to come into the world in a war zone and take his first vents of free air while his carrier was near comatose from pain.
Elitas servos were covered in energon, and she was holding a little squirming pile of blue and grey.
“He was screaming,” she said, readjusting the squirming bitlet. “I’m sorry you weren’t the first to hold him, I found you and you weren’t moving. I had to get him off the ground.”
She moved to hand him the sparkling, his sparkling, and Optimus froze. Even as the little one stopped crying and began reaching for him, letting out little squeaky sounds of happiness, he couldn’t move.
Staring back at him were tiny, bright little molten gold optics, wide with innocence and untainted by the horrors of the world.
Dee’s optics.
The more Optimus looked, the more he saw little bits of D-16. Parts of the sparkling’s helm, the set of his tiny shoulders, the grey that he’d once found so safe.
And Primus, those optics.
He looked like Dee.
He looked like a mech Optimus lost long before his sparkling ever came into the world. A mech their sparkling would never meet. This little one would never know his sire. Optimus was all he had.
He sat paralyzed as the sparkling began to cry again, little tears welling up in golden optics as he squirmed, reaching for his carrier. He cried and tried to squirm free of Elita’s servos as the femme looked at him with a twisted mix of concern and pity.
And for the first time since the war had started.
The first time since he’d been reformatted.
Optimus felt just as lost as Orion Pax had.
And he cried.