Chapter Text
The air in the base’s common area buzzed with a fragile peace, a stark contrast to the battle that raged outside. Miko, Jack, and Rafael were captivated, watching me cradle Ella. Miko, especially, was enchanted by the tiny human, cooing softly as Ella's little fingers gripped mine. It was a moment of innocent bliss, a brief respite from the war.
Then, it hit me. Like a sonic boom reverberating directly inside my skull, I heard it. A guttural, raw scream of pure fury. It wasn't human. It was immense, filled with an anguish and rage so profound it froze me mid-motion. Optimus Prime. I knew it, deep in my bones, though I couldn't explain how. The tray of snacks I was holding clattered from my numb fingers, scattering across the floor.
"Stacy! Are you okay?" Jack asked, his voice laced with concern.
Miko and Raf were already kneeling, helping to gather the scattered items. I nodded, trusting them implicitly, even as my mind raced. What was that? The ring on my finger pulsed faintly, a warm thrum. Was it the ring? Was it just my imagination? The children, too, seemed to sense something. "It was Optimus, wasn't it?" Miko whispered, her eyes wide. "You felt it, didn't you? Like... a connection?"
Their words only fueled my internal questions. Was there something beyond the mere artifact, some emotional link that had allowed me to feel his rage, raw and unfiltered? Before I could dwell on it further, Ella began to whimper, signaling her need for sleep. I focused on her, trying every lullaby and gentle sway I knew to coax her into slumber.
I was so engrossed in soothing Ella that I didn't even hear the three distinct knocks on my door, or its gentle slide open. When I finally looked up, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. Standing in my doorway, filling the frame with his immense form, was Optimus Prime. I gasped, startled, then quickly composed myself. Embarrassing myself in front of the stoic leader was the last thing I needed.
He stood there, a towering presence. His face, if one could call it that, was a mask of unyielding strength, yet I could sense the exhaustion emanating from him, the weariness of endless war. He carried the weight of a thousand battles, of suppressed emotions. Primes didn't frolic, didn't openly laugh or weep or lose control of their anger. They bore their burdens in silence. And yet, I had heard his scream.
Cradling Ella gently in my arms, I sat on my bed. "Optimus," I began, my voice soft, "is everything alright?"
He hesitated, his optics studying me. "There is no need for concern, Stacy." His voice was the familiar deep rumble, but I sensed a fragility beneath it.
"Even Primes like you, can speak your mind to me," I countered, surprising myself with my boldness. My training as a psychologist, the innate desire to connect and understand, kicked in.
Optimus didn't immediately reply. He processed my words, his optics softening almost imperceptibly. Then, a subtle shift occurred within him. His spark, intricately woven with the spark of Elita One within my ring – a bond of Conjux Endura, a true pair – resonated with my sincerity. It was an unspoken understanding, a profound connection that transcended species and circumstance.
And then, he began to speak. He spoke of his past, of Orion Pax, the humble archivist from Iacon, before the war consumed Cybertron and transformed him into Optimus Prime. He spoke of Ariel, who became Elita One, of their bond that was "more than just friends." He spoke of the immense burden of leadership, of the weight of a dying planet on his shoulders, and how becoming a Prime had demanded that he suppress his personal feelings, his very essence, for the greater good. The war had forced him to become a symbol, rather than a being of emotion.
I didn't press for details, simply listened, a quiet anchor in the storm of his confessions. I was an online psychologist, used to distant voices and veiled emotions, but this was different. This was a giant alien machine, a warrior, pouring out his soul, raw and unadorned, right in front of me. It was humbling.
He also spoke of his human allies, beyond those on this base. He mentioned Sam Witwicky, Mikaela Banes, Cade Yeager – brave individuals who had stood by them. And then, he spoke of the Burns family, particularly Cody Burns. He noted how Cody, though young, was a reliable ally, training the Rescue Bots in Griffin Rock. Optimus confessed, almost conspiratorially, that he secretly visited them whenever possible, a quiet source of solace. Even Bumblebee, who also frequented Griffin Rock and was friends with Blades, wasn't aware of the full extent of Optimus's human network. The realization struck me: Optimus wasn't just a leader; he was a protector, a friend, bound to humanity in ways I hadn't imagined.
I listened to it all, taking in every word. As his new ally, his confidante, the one now inexplicably tied to his emotions through the ring, I offered a quiet hope. "I hope," I began, my voice a gentle whisper, "that Megatron can change. And that this war, your war, will eventually end. Even if it costs not only your planet's life, but also human lives." It was a heavy thought, but an honest one.
Then, I found myself sharing my own story. My family, whom I'd left behind for work, leaving my younger brothers and father to their rural life. The crushing weight of my mother's abandonment, and the immense scar she'd left on my chest with a knife. The burden of becoming a "new mother" to my youngest brother and older sister, while my older half-sister built her own life with her husband. I harbored no anger towards her; I understood that life was complex, and that people, like me, faced countless trials, surviving and fighting for their very existence, often despite their own desires.
Optimus listened intently, his optics fixed on me. He understood. He knew I was right. Humans, and indeed all beings, like myself, survive for their own lives, for the lives of others, often against their own desires, trials, goals, or paths. He saw in me a reliable ally, a new kind of strength, especially now that I bore Elita One's spark within the ring, sensing his emotions.
I continued to gently rock Ella, who was now peacefully asleep in my arms. Optimus, seeing the quiet domesticity, understood his cue. He nodded, a silent acknowledgment of our shared understanding, of the hope that flickered in his optics, forever shining in his spark. He turned and quietly exited the room, leaving me with the weighty silence and the profound connection that now bound us.