Chapter Text
It had taken a while for Optimus to recover from the emotional turmoil of the first announcement. The little purple and gold warframe cradled like the most precious of treasures in a larger gunmetal hand haunted him. Would he have held Convoy with the same care?
A few stellar cycles later, after Optimus had finally had the chance to refocus on his own little family and their cause, the cycle repeated. Another announcement. Another beaming Megatron and his intended presenting their progeny to the world.
It was twins this time. Tiny little jets that took after their carrier in all but color.
And again a few stellar cycles after that. A larger flyer, all silvers and purples and heavy plating.
Typhoon and Stormsplitter.
Singularis.
Their carrier’s name was Cirrus. True to form, Jazz had a startlingly small file for Optimus within a few cycles of their first time seeing the seeker. One sighting in active combat, a few sightings scouting, and then nothing. No wonder they hadn’t recognized him, he’d hardly ever seen combat. He’d allegedly tried to dodge a shot and nearly crashed into Thundercracker in the only actual battle he’d ever been in.
No kills, not even an injury, attributed to Cirrus. Even accidental ones.
It was puzzling, but a puzzle Optimus refused to engage with. The file sat abandoned and buried in a drawer on his desk, waiting for the moment he felt like punishing himself enough to look. Cirrus was everything he wasn’t, and it caused a deep ache in his spark every time he saw the other mech’s face standing by Megatron’s side.
Luckily for Optimus, and the rest of the Autobots by extension, most of his time was too filled with other obligations to dwell on what ifs.
The sparklings were growing, and growing quickly.
Blitzkrieg stopped his growth much earlier than Convoy, his adult plating settling as his frame adjusted to a final alt mode. He was only half the size of Chromebolt, smaller than almost any bot they had. His frame settled on a two wheeled configuration, fast and easily maneuverable.
It confused everyone, namely Chromebolt. According to her, his carrier was definitely not designed for speed and neither was she.
“His spark output is, frankly, ridiculously high,” Ratchet said, looking to Chromebolt and Optimus as Blitzkrieg sat patiently on the examination berth. The smaller sparkling kicked his pedes, finials flicking back and forth happily as Convoy showed him his data pad, chatting away as he waited for his turn for his wellness check.
“I’d expect this kind of energy level from Optimus maybe, but even then, this is a lot, especially for a bot that small,” Ratchet continued.
“But he’s okay isn’t he?” Chromebolt asked, careful to keep her voice down so as not to panic her son. “It’s not hurting him?”
“Oh, no. Not hurting him at all,” Ratchet assured her. “But there’s your explanation for his alt mode and build. He’s got a spark made for a mech damn near three times his size, his frame had to adapt to all that extra energy output.”
And adapt he did. Blitzkrieg became one of the fastest bots on their side of the war, maneuverable in a way that larger bots couldn’t match.
When Blitzkrieg volunteered to join the war effort, there was only one logical place to put him. Optimus tried to ignore the way his finials dropped and his optics widened in poorly concealed fear when he was assigned as a scout.
He knew Blitzkrieg wanted to be in their science division with his sire more than anything, but his talents were badly needed elsewhere. He began his training with the scout regiment that cycle, learning the skills that would hopefully keep him alive.
Optimus tried not to let the guilt consume him.
He was the leader of the Autobots.
He had to make hard choices, for all their sakes.
Convoy had not finished growing yet, but he was getting bigger by the cycle. He’d already outpaced Blitzkrieg several times over, growing much taller and bulkier than his friend. The more he grew, the more Optimus felt like he was looking at a ghost.
The set of Convoy’s shoulders, the edge of his helm, those ever present gold eyes, all of it was pure D-16. The way he cocked his helm to the side when he was listening to someone, the way he carried himself, the cadence of his voice, all of it felt like the whisper of a life Optimus had long since lost.
He was just as stubborn as his sire too.
Not long after Blitzkrieg was assigned, Convoy quickly followed with a request of his own.
“I can do it,” he said, trailing after Optimus after he came into their family hab late one evening. “Please, I want to help. I’m old enough, I can handle it. I won’t even fight, but I can’t just keep sitting here while everyone else does.”
“While Blitzkrieg does” was left unsaid, but Optimus knew very well what his sparkling wanted to say.
“I’ve been training with Ratchet,” Convoy continued, following his carrier to their energon preparation station. “He says I’m a natural. We need more field medics, badly. I can do it, my adult plating is almost fused, and then I’ll be able to transform. I’ll take medic colors, I’ll stay further back, I’ll be safe I promise.”
Optimus finally turned to meet the pleading optics of his sparkling, his tanks churning as he took in the determination on Convoy’s face. It reminded him so much of himself when he was young and naive enough to believe he could single handedly fix everything.
The truth was more complicated than he could ever imagine.
“No,” he managed to finally force out, handing Convoy a cube as he went to sit down with his own. “Your training has gone well, but you still can’t transform. You need to be patient.”
If he had it his way, it would be never. Convoy was safe here. Optimus couldn’t guarantee his safety on the battlefield when he couldn’t even guarantee his own.
“Patient?”
When Optimus turned back, the anger on Convoy’s face nearly made him recoil. It was like seeing the ghost of the mech he’d loved right before it all went to the pits. His entire left side ached, the phantom pain of being ripped apart by the one bot he trusted most in the world warring with the pain of seeing that same look of anger on Convoy’s face.
“That’s not what you told Blitzkrieg,” Convoy spat. “The second his plating fused you shoved him out into the line of fire no matter what he wanted. He’s terrified. Every time he’s come back, he’s come back shaking and in tears. He’s terrified because he’s having to face down bots twice his size because YOU made him.”
Optimus felt the familiar twinge of guilt and frustration. He hadn’t wanted to send Blitzkrieg out as a scout, but he had no other option. The Autobots needed his talents badly. But he doubted his son wanted to hear that.
“Convoy-”
“No!” Convoy yelled, refusing to let Optimus get a word in. “Tell me why you won’t let me go. Tell me why my life matters more than anyone else’s. Tell me the truth, and stop lying to me and telling me ‘eventually’ while you send my only friend to die. Cause that’s what is going to happen, he’s going to die and it’s going to be all your fault, and then I’ll have no one.”
“Enough,” Optimus said firmly, standing as he settled into the mask he wore as Prime. Convoy balked slightly, his own finials flicking back in shame as he looked up at his carrier.
“You want the truth?” Optimus said, trying to keep his own frustration at bay. “You are a liability. Blitzkrieg is smaller and younger than you, but his plating is fused. He can transform. He’s receiving specialized training for his position aimed solely at keeping him alive and safe. He is scared, yes, but I would expect the same of anyone entering a war. You have received generalized combat training and medical training, which is fine but not enough. Despite the morality, some Decepticons will target medics on purpose to cripple our army. If you cannot transform, you cannot get away, and if you cannot get away, you will die and there is nothing I can do to save you.”
Optimus saw a glint of fear in Convoy’s optics, and felt the guilt grow, but he needed Convoy to understand. He needed him to actually listen and stay where he’d be safe.
“Putting you on a battlefield would be like gift wrapping you for the Decepticons, and I refuse to do so simply because you are too stubborn to accept the answer I gave you. I understand you are worried for your friend, but running off to your own death isn’t going to help him. You are staying here and that is final, do you understand me?”
Convoy seemed to shrink into himself, staring at his pedes as he was scolded. He nodded silently, taking his cube to his room and shutting the door behind him.
Optimus sighed, slumping down onto his own berth. He knew Convoy would eventually insist, but he hadn’t been expecting quite how stubborn his son would be. He supposed combining the stubbornness of Orion Pax and D-16 into one bot was asking for trouble.
Optimus hadn’t expected that temper either.
It reminded him so much of Dee in the worst possible way. His anger was slow, quiet, but explosive once you finally got far enough. Convoy had obviously been holding this in for a while, he just finally blew up today. Primus only knows what else he could be keeping pent up in his processor.
Optimus laid down, shuttering his optics. He’d talk to Convoy later, once they both had time to calm down. He’d apologize for snapping, and try to communicate better with his son.
He could fix it.
He had to fix it.
———————
All Optimus’s best laid plans were foiled when the Decepticons moved in on an energon spring near their base of operations. It was one of their main sources of energon, and they couldn’t afford to lose it to ceded land or poisoning.
As soon as the Autobots met the Decepticons in a clash of metal and blaster fire, everything turned to chaos. Optimus could barely spare a moment to look anywhere but at the massive cannon aimed in his direction, the mech behind it grinning manically as he fired. Optimus dove out of the way, axe at the ready as he turned and ran toward Megatron.
“That’s right Prime!” Megatron called, charging another shot as Optimus transformed quickly to avoid it. “Keep running you coward! You won’t be able to forever!”
Optimus quickly flipped out of his alt mode, launching himself into the air and bringing his axe down hard onto Megatron’s cannon. The silver mech grunted, angling himself to allow the axe to screech against the metal instead of cut it in two. He’d learned that trick the hard way.
The sounds of battle filled the air, a cacophony of metal on metal and the sputtering of the dead and dying. It no longer phased the two leaders, too many cycles of this over and over with no end in sight had made it feel normal. They could do this for eternity and not bat an optic.
Optimus turned upon hearing a high pitched scream of terror, managing to catch sight of Skywarp lifting Blitzkrieg up by his neck before a punch from Megatron knocked his head to the side. Optimus felt his arms get twisted behind him, finding himself pinned down and forced to look as Skywarp grinned like a Sharkticon.
“Watch,” Megatron hissed next to his audial. “Watch the little one you sent out here die for your cause.”
Optimus kicked and thrashed, trying to get free, optics wide with horror as Blitzkrieg kicked and jabbed at any joint he could reach. Tears poured from the scout’s optics as he clawed at the servo holding him, trying anything he could to get free.
He wasn’t going to be able to escape.
Optimus knew it.
Most of Blitzkrieg’s training had been focused on avoiding getting caught in the first place. They all knew if he did get caught, that was it. Optimus knew it, the other soldiers knew it.
Blitzkrieg knew it.
Optimus saw the moment he gave up, the moment he realized there was no way out. His servos stopped scraping at Skywarp’s plating, merely holding on now as his chest hiccuped in a terrified sob. Optimus renewed his thrashing, trying anything he could to get free. He couldn’t watch a bot he’d seen grow up die in front of him because of a decision he’d made.
Before Skywarp could fire, Optimus heard a loud, blaring horn. He turned his helm just in time to watch an armored truck slam into Skywarp, causing the surprised seeker to drop his captive.
His spark sunk as he watched the vehicle transform, familiar blue and silver shifting to bot form and catching Blitzkrieg.
Convoy