Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Deep in the void of space…

The spark of the first Transformer beat despite the unease. Primus hated what he was being used for. Ever since the Allspark—His spark—was torn from Cybertron’s core, things had gone awry. The war had dragged on for four Eons now—exactly four million solar cycles. But only a few days ago had the Decepticons breached the Autobots’ defenses over the Well of Allsparks.
Three days of Megatron using Primus’ spark, something intended for good, and wreaking havoc wherever he went.
If he wasn’t currently detached from his body—the planet Cybertron—Primus would have immediately sent Optimus Prime a warning through the Matrix of Leadership. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Perhaps he could try a different approach…
Yes, four will do, Primus thought. One spark for each Eon of this accursed war. The protector, the fighter, the follower, and the passionate.

Perfect.

Chapter Text

“That’s better, Doc,” I rolled my newly repaired shoulder. “Thanks.” Ratchet rolled his optics and went back to what he was doing before I’d entered the Medbay—which was welding Cliffjumper’s horn back onto his head. Somehow the mech kept losing it in battle.

“Just stay out of the next explosion, will ya, Prowl? I don’t have the resources to be fixing every teensy scrape or scratch.” Ratchet grumbled.

“Will do.”

I stood up, stretching. I left the Medbay and headed to the control room. I made it just in time for the daily report…and to be bothered by who was possibly one of the most annoying mechs in Cybertronian history. Jazz clapped me on the back, grinning stupidly like he usually was. I had to give him credit for his skills, though.

“Prowl, my favorite Elite Guardsman! Ratchet fix your shoulder from that battle with Rumble and Frenzy?” He asked, clearly trying to agitate me.

“Hello, First Lieutenant.” I deadpanned. I didn’t bother with saying his designation. It’d only make him more insufferable…and probably more likely to do reckless things during battle. Not that I cared. It wasn’t My responsibility to ensure he stayed online.

I sat down next to Ironhide at the end of the table. The Head of Security and Weapons Specialist—a job he shared with Hound, who was across from me next to Bumblebee—gave me a weird look. He seemed to be trying to decipher my response to Optimus Prime’s First Lieutenant. I didn’t care. I found that I rarely ever did these days. This war had gone on for so long I’d lost most of my emotional sensitivity.

Except for when something terrible happened to one of my brothers.

Which…had happened recently. I didn’t want to think about it. It was better to pretend it never happened, and ignore everyone’s pitying whispers.

I hated pity.

Maybe it was my personality. Maybe the war making me want to seem tougher. But pity didn’t just annoy me.

It made me angry.

I was jerked out of my thoughts as Optimus Prime spoke up. “Alright, everyone. Time for the daily reports. Jazz?”

Jazz shrugged. “So far, no ‘Con activity around our base. But I wouldn’t doubt that we might see it soon.”

Optimus nodded and looked at me. “Prowl?”

I sighed. “No stolen data through hacking, no viruses, no corruption of drives. Security’s a bit light, though.” I added, giving Ironhide a look. He snorted.

“Hmph. Maybe you should keep yer nose in yer Datapad instead o’ stickin’ it where it don’t belong, ya stuck-up rule follower.” He grumbled.

I scowled. “Not funny.”

Across the table, Skyfire rolled his optics. “Nothing’s funny to you, Prowl.”

Bumblebee smirked. “Skyfire’s right. You never laugh.”

My expression didn’t change. “I don’t have reason to, nor do I think it necessary.”

Optimus held up a servo. “Please stay on topic. Ironhide, I must ask, why is security lighter?”

The mech in question shifted slightly. “Not enough soldiers, Prime. We lost at least seven three days ago.” Everyone turned to look at me.

There was that pity again.

I didn’t look away. I just stared blankly right back at them.

Optimus cleared his throat. “Ah…right. I keep telling myself to have a small ceremony for them.” Our leader seemed…scattered. Spread thin like too little troops to cover too much ground. To put it simply, he was tired of Megatron slowly killing off our kind. “Anyways…Hound, Wheeljack. Progress on updating our cloaking system?”

Wheeljack nodded. “Yep! We fixed the issue with the projectors earlier today.” Hound shrugged. “Only took me holding up 3 tons of scrap metal…” he mumbled.

Jazz smiled. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. I helped carry the other 4 tons.”

Hound smiled back. “I guess you did. Thanks, by the way.”

Jazz laughed. “No problem, man.”

Chromia, who was on Ironhide’s other side, gave them both a look that explicitly said shut up or I’m sending you two to the scrapyard. They listened.

Perceptor held up a digit. “If I may, Optimus…are we not going to address the fact that Megatron is now in possession of the Allspark?”

The table went silent. Our resident reliable scientist had voiced what we were all wondering in the most respectful way possible, as he usually did.

Optimus nodded slowly. “That is the primary reason for this meeting. I’ve decided to send four bots after Megatron to recover the Allspark and return it safely.”

Everyone blinked and exchanged glances. I crossed my arms, leaning back in my seat. He’ll choose Bumblebee, Ironhide, Ratchet, and Arcee, I bet, I thought. Optimus had a tendency to do that.

I started to stand up and leave, but Optimus put a servo on my shoulder. “Prowl. Stay.” I tensed and sat back down. “Jazz, Hound, Chromia, and Prowl.” Prime continued. “You will be accompanying each other on this mission.”

My optics widened. “What? But—“

Jazz grinned, cutting me off. “Great! I’ve been waiting to pound some dents into Megatron’s chassis!” Chromia nodded. “Me too.” Her expression darkened. “He’ll pay for what he did to Firestar and Bluestreak.” After that last part, she cast a nervous glance towards me. I shrugged. “It’s fine,” I mumbled.

I guess I’d be accepting the truth on this trip.

My youngest brother was dead.

Chapter Text

I could feel the discomfort coming off of Prowl from all the way across the table. He was being a tough guy about it, but we all knew Bluestreak’s death hurt him. Especially since it was so unexpected. It hurt the rest of us too, but…no one more than Prowl, Smokescreen, and Tracks. The four had shared a special bond within their sparks. Brothers. Now that was gone. Well, at least, Bluestreak was.

Then a thought struck me. “Uh…hey Prime? Are you sendin’ us without a medic?” I asked.

Everyone turned to look at Optimus, who hesitated for a moment. “Er…yes. I believe you all know the basics.”

Perceptor’s optics went wide. “They can’t possibly survive without a medic! At least send Red Alert—he’s qualified!”

Hound huffed. “Gee, thanks for the benefit of the doubt, Percy.”

The scientist glared at him. “I’m simply stating the truth, Hound. Without a Medical Specialist you four are subject to viruses and injuries. Primus knows we can’t send Ratchet. We need him here.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t Chromia know how to patch stuff?”

Chromia gave me an incredulous look. “Like…for ships. Not bots, Jazz.”

To my surprise, Prowl raised his servo. “I know a bit. Not nearly enough to compare to Red Alert or Ratchet. But I can use a Medkit.”

Ironhide blinked. “When’d ya learn that?”

He waved dismissively. “Basic Police training and Elite Guard etiquette.”

The Head of Security’s optical ridges shot up. “Oh. I forgot you were one of those…”

I stared at Prowl, who simply frowned at Ironhide. I knew he was a police officer, and I knew he was part of the Elite Guard, but one could forget how seriously that really should be taken.

Optimus sighed. “Only four bots. We cannot manage more than that. Prowl may handle the medical situations.”

Perceptor crossed his arms and looked the other way in irritation, but he said nothing. Bumblebee tilted his head. “…One question. When are they leaving?”

I nodded and looked at Optimus. “Yeah, that might be a pretty big detail.”

Optimus stood. “You will leave shortly. Right after we get your ship ready.”

Hound blinked. “Optimus…we only have two ships. This, and…”

“Turret-4.” Chromia finished. “You want us to take the only detachable weapon that doubles as a ship off of this one? What about you!?”

Prowl frowned and looked at Optimus. “This is not being very tactful, sir. I don’t think taking our only weapon big enough to defend against the Decepticons Megatron left behind is very wise. And those he left behind are Devastator, Bruticus, Blitzwing, and Astrotrain.”

Prime nodded. “I know, Prowl. But this very well may mark the end of the Autobots if we don’t send you.”

I winced. “Man…we really are running out of options, aren’t we?”

An air of grim realization settled over…well, literally everything. But especially Optimus. I shifted nervously. “Uh…okay, question met by silence…understood. I’ll just shut up now.”

I leaned back in my seat.

The awkwardness was only added to as a familiar seeker walked in, rubbing his optics like he’d just got up from recharge.

Starscream paused as he saw everyone’s expressions. “…What’d I miss?” He asked.

Ironhide scowled and huffed, Prowl just ignored him, Bumblebee shrugged, Skyfire grinned and waved, to which Starscream softened a little.

I blinked behind my visor. “Just us going over the end of the world if me, Prowler—” Prowl frowned at the nickname. “—Chromia, and Hound don’t go chase after Megajerk to get the Allspark back.”

Starscream’s Optic Ridges raised in surprise. “You do know he took the Vampiricon with him, right?”

I frowned. “The Vampiri-what now?”

Everyone stared at me. “Jazz…the thing that Killed Mirage and Brawn in the tunnels.” Hound answered.

I winced. “Oh…yeah. That thing. Ohhkay, that might be a problem.”

Prowl huffed. “Might is an understatement.”

Starscream crossed his arms. “When do you leave?” He asked, red optics flicking between me, Prowl, Chromia, and Hound. Mostly Chromia. He made his crush on her pretty known. Ironhide hated him even more for that.

“As soon as possible.” Prowl replied, checking his datapad. “We launch Turret-4 as soon as we get it prepared and fueled.”

“Turret-4? That’s our only weapon on this ship that doesn’t belong to one of us.” Starscream’s optics narrowed. “Why not take the ship Wheeljack’s been working on?”

Everyone stared at him. Wheeljack chuckled nervously. “Uh…I haven’t told anyone yet, Scream.”

Starscream frowned. “You didn’t tell me it was supposed to be kept secret.”

“…fair point.” Wheeljack shrugged.

I raised a servo. “Uh, what ship? And why didn’t you say anything about it when we were talkin’ about leavin’?”

Wheeljack fidgeted with something he probably wasn’t supposed to be fidgeting with, which Perceptor grabbed out of his servos. “It’s not finished. I didn’t see the point.”

“Can you finish it quickly, Wheeljack?” Optimus asked.

The engineer hesitated, then shrugged. “I dunno. It’s a tight squeeze—but I think I can manage if Starscream and Skyfire help.”

Starscream nodded. “Alright, fine. Consider it done.”

Skyfire smiled. “Sounds good to me.” He was clearly happy to be working with Starscream—on a scientific topic—again. I was honestly confused as to how he even got to be a Decepticon to be able to switch sides.

But Starscream switched sides too. I guessed it was just a common thing that went on in the Decepticon ranks. Kinda weird, but…not unwelcome. We could always use more bots. Especially since most of ours were dying left and right.

Man. We really needed that ship.

Chapter Text

I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or disappointed at the fact we had another ship. I sort of wanted to take Turret-4–just because of the giant cannon factor. Bigger than Megatron’s. And, I was a weapons specialist. Of course I wanted to take the giant flying gun that doubled as a ship.

Then I remembered the new ship wasn’t finished. Heh, still got time to take the gun.

“What if Wheeljack can’t get it done in time?” I asked. “Turret’s our only option.”

A few murmurs of agreement rose from the table. Bumblebee frowned. “Wheeljack’s fast, but…Hound’s right. What if he can’t get it done in time?”

Wheeljack gave me an indignant look. “Hey, I can get it done in time. Besides, I’ll have help.” He nodded to Starscream and Skyfire, who were now having an easy side conversation.

I huffed. “You really trust an ex-Decepticon to help build a ship that’ll send your friends after his former master?”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Starscream switched sides. He’s still whiny—but not evil. Er…I don’t think.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my optics. “He’s Starscream. Loyal to no one but himself.”

Chromia glared at me. “Starscream was loyal to his brothers—both of which are dead because of Megatron’s stupid ideas. You should stop judging by what you see on the battlefield and actually get to know someone, Hound.”

I frowned, but didn’t see the point in responding. Chromia loved to argue. Especially with me. I mean, it kept Ironhide’s suspicion away from me trying to steal his girl or whatever.

Basically, me and Chromia didn’t get along.

And I was fine with that. She wasn’t exactly my forte.

Moonracer was more my speed. She didn’t argue as much.

I snapped to attention as Optimus started talking again. “I trust you three will do an amazing job. In the meantime, we will prepare the supplies for the journey.” With that, everyone dispersed. I searched the crowd for Jazz, and spotted him talking to—or rather, talking at—Prowl. Typical Jazz.

“Hey, Jazz!” I ran up. “Thoughts on Prime’s plan?”

Prowl gave me an irritated look before looking back down at his datapad.

Jazz shrugged. “Not sure. It seems pretty solid—just…a little early to judge, Y’know?”
“I guess,” I mumbled. “I kind of wanted to take Turret-4 though. The giant cannon thing draws me in.”

“Heh, that sounds about right” He grinned. Prowl sighed.

“Would you two please take your chatting somewhere else so I can work?” He said, looking up and glaring at Me and Jazz.

“Alright, fine,” Jazz backed up, holding up both servos. “Jeez. C’mon, H. Let’s go hang for a bit.” He grabbed my wrist and dragged me away from the grumpy Praxian. He let go in the hallway, laughing. “Well he’s a bit prickly today, huh?”

I smirked. “Prowl’s always prickly.”

He laughed again. “True, true…” his grin faded slightly. “Gotta cut him some slack, though. What with the whole…Bluestreak thing.”

Now it was my turn to stop smiling. “Right…it’s so easy to forget when you weren’t there.”

We were both silent for a while. Then Jazz let out a vent. “Hound…I gotta ask, do you really think we can get the Allspark back?”

I blinked. Where had Jazz’s confidence gone? “I think we can try. That’s what counts, right?” I patted him on the shoulder, trying to be reassuring.

He smiled again, but it was significantly smaller. “Yeah. Right. Thanks, Hound.”

“No problem, Jazz.” I offered a smile and another shoulder pat.

I sometimes wondered if I was a good friend. I still didn’t have an answer.

Maybe I’d get an answer eventually.

For now, I was content to wait for that. I found it helped build patience so I’d be less chaotic during fights.

I looked at Jazz again. One thing I’d noticed about him, in all my years of being his friend, is that his visor changed depending on how much he trusted someone—tinted being completely, opaque being not at all. Right now, it was see-through. I studied his expression.

His optics burned with an unnatural worry, and maybe a little fear. His optic ridges were furrowed in thought.

I decided to sit there with him, just to keep him company while everyone else waited for our ship to be ready.

I still wanted to take the cannon.

Chapter Text

The first thing I did was run to Ironhide and tackle him with a hug. My Conjunx grunted with the impact but didn’t stumble, as usual. His strength was one of the reasons I loved him so much. But only one.

“I’m going to miss you, you great big bucket, you.” I mumbled, slightly teasingly.

Ironhide raised an Optic ridge. “Ah’m the bucket? Whaddya mean by that?”

I grinned. “We both know you’re not the most graceful around here.”

“Well, I…” he trailed off in unintelligible mumbles. Another reason I loved him was that he could take a joke.

Well, a half-joke, in this case.

“Well? You gonna miss me or what?” I asked, smirking. He smiled.

“‘Course Ah’m gonna miss ya, Chro. C’mere.” He pulled me closer, his smile slightly softer.

I relaxed and sighed. This was another thing—he could be gentle when he wanted to be. It was a little bit cute.

“Promise me you’ll stay online while I’m gone?” I muttered.

He frowned. “…Ya know Ah can’t promise. None of us can. But Ah sure as the Pit will try.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

“Well good, ‘cuz that’s all yer gettin’.”

We both laughed. I relished the moment, hoping it’d never end.

But it had to eventually. We reluctantly pulled apart.

I sighed. “…Wanna go see what Wheeljack’s been building? I’m a little bored.”

Ironhide grinned. “When do Ah not? It’ll just explode in ‘is faceplate. Ah’m down.”

I returned the grin, then bolted. “Last one there’s a hibernating Turbo-Fox in the Sea of Rust!” I called over my shoulder.

He sputtered in surprise, then caught on. “Uh—hey! That ain’t fair!” He ran after me.

I laughed again. “Keep up!”

We ran through the halls, Ironhide calling after me with things like ‘wait up!’ And ‘hold on!’. I skidded into the Science Lab right before him, screeching to a stop with a wide grin on my faceplate. He huffed. “Guess Ah’m the Turbo-Fox, huh?” He smiled.

I smirked. “Definitely.”

Someone cleared their throat from behind us, clearly irritated.

I turned to see Perceptor—now back in his station after the meeting—tapping his pede with his servos on his hips.

“Please enlighten me as to why you two are peeling through the halls at top speed,” he frowned. “And then apologize for making skid marks in my doorway.”

Wheeljack, who popped up from behind a ginormous pile of scrap in the corner, waved at us. “Hey, guys! Guessin’ you wanna see the ship?”

Ironhide nodded. “Yeah, but Ah was hopin’ we’d get ta watch somethin’ o’ yours blow up in your faceplate.”

“Oh. Uh…”

I noticed he was covered in soot. Typical Wheeljack.

“Something already blew up, didn’t it?” I asked.

Perceptor nodded. “A welder,” he clarified. “Unsurprisingly. He…‘tinkered’ with it.”

Wheeljack shot him a glare. “Hey! I fixed it from last time it blew up!”

“You added a firing mechanism. To a handheld tool, Wheeljack.”

“But—for science purposes!”

“Everything we do is for ‘science purposes’.”

“Exactly!” Wheeljack crossed his arms like he’d made a point. He hadn’t.

I resisted the urge to laugh. “Hey, Wheeljack, can we see the ship you’ve been working on?”

He uncrossed his arms, looking at me and Ironhide. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Just let me get these safety goggles on real quick.”

He grabbed a pair and started to put them on his faceplate…when they promptly started smoking. He dropped it with a yelp. “Sweet Primus!”

Perceptor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wheeljack…did you try to add heat vision to those like I advised you not to?”

The engineer stared at the goggles, then Perceptor. “What? No! I actually listened this time!”

I couldn’t hold back my chuckle this time. “Why don’t you show us without the goggles?” I suggested.

Wheeljack huffed. “Fine.”

He led us to the back of the lab, where a suspiciously small contraption lay on the floor.

Oh no.

I stared at it. “Is this the ship? Oh no, no way am I recharging that close to Hound!”

Wheeljack blinked, then glanced at the thing as he put his servo on top of it. “This? Oh, no—this is just the engine. The real thing’s in hangar bay 2.”

Ironhide’s optics narrowed. “Uh-huh. And just how much room is there in it? ‘Cause I don’t want her rechargin’ that close to anyone else either.”

He actually pronounced the ‘I’ sound in saying I. He meant what he said.

Wheeljack held up both servos. “Plenty! There’s multiple rooms and recharge stations spread out—I put one on the bridge too, because we all know Prowl.”

I relaxed. “Oh. Okay. And…quarters?”

“Eh…you each have some, and there’s one extra just in case, but they’re more like…cubbies.”

“But do they work?”

“Oh, yeah, they work just fine. Just not a whole lotta leg room. Might have to be careful where you put your pedes.”

Ironhide frowned. “So it’s uncomfortable? Shoot, Chro, are you sure you’re—“

“I will be fine, Ironhide.” I smiled. “It’s not meant to be a luxury cruise to the Hanging Gardens of Praxus.”

“Well, yeah, but….” He sighed. His shoulders sagged. “Ah guess Ah just don’ want you to go.”

I softened. I loved him. More than I could ever say.

I took his servo. “Hey, I’ll be back. This isn’t goodbye forever. Besides, we still have a few days left together, depending on how fast Wheeljack, Starscream, and Skyfire get done.”

He met my gaze. “…Alright. Ah guess you’re right. As usual.” He snorted. I smirked.

“Oh, honey, I’m always right.” I laughed. He smiled.

“Okay, okay, quit rubbin’ it in. Ah know Ah ain’t the brightest nut in the box. Ah’m an attack first, talk later kinda guy.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Ironhide. Everyone’s different. Heck, I’m sure even Jazz isn’t perfect. And I say Jazz because everyone knows Prime isn’t.”

“…Why Jazz, though?” He asked, raising an optic ridge. “Ah’ve seen him get so angry he cried before.”

Huh. That was…gonna be an interesting thing to ask about on my trip.

“Well…alright. Bumblebee then. My point is, no one’s perfect.”

Wheeljack cleared his throat. “Um…the ship?”

Ironhide frowned at him, but I spoke before he could say anything. “Yeah. Show us to it.”

He nodded and led us out of the lab, down the hall, and into Hangar Bay 2.

There, in the middle of the Hangar, was a small ship. I spotted Starscream and Skyfire painting the sides with the Autobot insignia. Skyfire accidentally dropped some yellow paint that he was decorating with onto Starscream’s helm, causing the other to fling red at him. Then they laughed with each other.

It was the first time I’d ever seen Starscream laugh. Given, I hadn’t really known him long enough to know how often he’d done that with the Decepticons.

I decided he had a nice laugh. Skyfire’s was still better, though.

Maybe…there was hope for the world.

Chapter Text

I wished there was another way to retrieve the Allspark. But there wasn’t, and I couldn’t get it myself. There was simply too much to do. Fix problems around the Ark, resolve arguments and fights, make sure no one goes offline…

All the duties of a leader. And I happened to be that leader.

I still remembered the day I’d received the Matrix of Leadership. I’d died, gained a Conjunx, Son, title, and army all in one day.

But I’d also lost my best friend to his own twisted fantasies of being the ruler of all of Cybertron—to create ‘peace and equality’ throughout our planet.

So far I hadn’t been doing a very good job of my most important duty: keep my soldiers online.

And I knew that. But…it still brought a sense of failure to my Spark. And now that I was leading without a commander, there was the added guilt and sadness.

I hadn’t seen Elita-One before she died. But Starscream had told me that she’d been killed by the Vampiricon—the same Energon-sucking creature that had murdered Mirage and Brawn in the underground tunnels.

It wasn’t just the fact that she’d been my commander that made her death hit harder. It was the fact that she was my Conjunx.

Bumblebee’s adoptive mother and the Love of my life.

Just…gone. Faster than cosmic rust spreads on steel.

I didn’t know how to handle everything at once anymore. It just all seemed so…bleak. Like now that everything was shattered, it’d never be repaired.

But I never had time to process my own thoughts. Or words, for that matter. I was always giving inspiration and advice to my Autobots—but when had I ever actually thought about what I was telling them to do? The truth was, I hadn’t.

And that was a problem. I felt like a hypocrite, not doing what I told others to.

Aside from my personal life, there were…other things, going on in our ranks. Such as my inner circle arguing over…random things.

I sighed and held up both servos. “Alright everyone, calm down. Prowl, explain your side of the situation. Then you can explain yours, Ironhide.”

Prowl glared at Ironhide. “He should share the job of Weapons Specialist with Hound like he already does, and give me the job of Head of Security. I would optimize efficiency and bring up operations by 40%.”

Ironhide scowled. “Hey, that just ain’t fair. Ah’ve been doin’ just fine at jugglin’ both at once—besides, Red Alert handles most o’ the important stuff.”

“Exactly! You don’t actually do anything!”

Hound stepped in between them, servos raised in a placating manner. “Hey, guys, calm down. You look like you’re about to punch each other’s processors out. Let’s just talk this out like…uh…buddies.”

Prowl narrowed his optics. “I never insinuated that I am ‘buddies’ with anyone on this ship.”

Hound nodded slowly. “…okay, co-workers then.”

“That term is…acceptable.”

“Alright then. Ironhide?”

Ironhide huffed and shifted. “Fine. But I ain’t givin’ my job to Mr. Slab-o-steel—” Prowl bristled at the nickname,“—over here. Not without a fight.”

Bumblebee frowned. “No fighting. We fight Decepticons, not each other.”

Everyone paused and shifted uncomfortably. Even Prowl looked a different direction.

I was proud of my adoptive son. He always had a way of making even the sternest mechs soften even just a little bit. Despite him being almost fully grown…He still had the innocent ideals and spark of a youngling. Most of the Autobots admired that. So did I, but I worried for him more than they did.

Jazz broke the silence with a chuckle and a grin. “Nice mediating, guys. And you’re right, Bee. We do fight ’cons. But we sure as the Pit do argue with each other more often than we battle them.”

Bumblebee nodded. “I know. We shouldn’t.”

Jazz’s grin softened into a smile. “I know, buddy. I know.”

Prowl huffed. “Would you stop boosting team morale and focus on the task at hand, Jazz?” He snapped. “This is no time for cheerfulness. There is a situation that needs resolving, so stop distracting half the team.”

Jazz rolled his optics, which were visible behind his see-through visor. I’d known Jazz long enough to know that that meant he trusted everyone in the room. I wasn’t sure if Prowl knew that, though…

“Team Morale is important too, Prowl,” Ratchet interjected. “And coming from me, that’s an important statement.”

Prowl crossed his arms and looked the other way. I frowned behind my mask. “Prowl, do not take your frustration with the Decepticons out on Jazz. There is a fine line between being strictly professional and being downright hostile.”

He did not like that, as he tensed and scowled. His doorwings drooped in annoyance. My optics narrowed, But I didn’t comment.

“As for the situation, we will resume this conversation after you return from your journey.” There was an unspoken ‘if’ in my words. Everyone in the room exchanged glances. Prowl’s scowl deepened. Jazz seemed to shrink where he was standing. Hound’s optimistic smile faltered. Chromia wasn’t currently in the room, but if she had been, she most likely would have had a reaction similar to Ironhide’s—a furrowed optical ridge and a frown.

Ratchet looked like he wanted to say something, but sighed and apparently thought better of it.

“So, everyone is in agreement? We will revisit this after the chosen four return?” I asked.

There were a few murmurs of agreement and some nods.

“Then you are dismissed.” I said. Everyone dispersed. It seemed like we’d just had a meeting—because we had. But this one hadn’t been scheduled.

At least…not that I knew of. Maybe I hadn’t been paying enough attention to what meetings were scheduled and which ones were just everyone coming to me with different problems all at the same time.

Ratchet jerked me out of my thoughts with a tap to my shoulder. “Prime?”

I blinked, then looked down at him. “Yes, Ratchet?”

“Have you been getting any recharge? You have dark circles under your optics.” His optics narrowed in suspicion. “And don’t you dare lie to me. I’m your medic, and I’ve known you longer than anyone else here, even Jazz. I know all your tells.”

I hesitated, then sighed. “No, I haven’t been. I try, but my subconscious is plagued by nightmares of what will happen to everyone if…Megatron succeeds in using the Allspark for what he has planned.”

“The truth is, I have no idea how much of an advantage he has right now. He’s lost the Elite Trine, half of his soldiers are terrified of the Vampiricon, and he’s left some of the strongest here,” I continued, “But he took the Nemesis, which leads me to believe that he is stronger than we think.”

Ratchet crossed his arms. “So you’ve been having nightmares about…Megatron. That’s it?”

I averted my gaze. “No, that’s not it.”

He softened a little. “…Is this about Elita?”

I nodded once. “I just…don’t know what to do in her absence. It is as if I was plunged into a Maze under Kaon and left with no guide to navigate the way out.”

“Everyone misses her, Optimus. You’re not alone in that grief.”

I met his gaze and found a reassuring sense of safety pulsing in his Optics—a skill he used to calm down panicked patients in his Medbay. I relaxed as he set his servo on my shoulder. Honestly, I was a bit surprised he could reach that far.

“…Thank you, Ratchet. Perhaps we should let you deal with—“

“No, no way am I using my skills to deal with other bots trauma dumping.” He shook his helm, interrupting my sentence. “I did that for you because you’re my leader. And more importantly, my friend.”

He fixed me with a stern glare. “But if you don’t start sleeping through the night, I’m firing you out of the nearest scrap chute.”

I couldn’t resist a brief chuckle. “I will try. But I cannot promise anything. However—oof!” I let out a soft grunt as a blur of bright yellow barreled into me, wrapping its arms around my waist.

I softened. “Hello, Bumblebee,” I said, returning the hug and kneeling down. My son grinned. “I had to get my daily hug. Even though you’re busy…” he glanced at Ratchet with a sheepish look in his optics.

Ratchet, instead of chastising him, smirked at me. “Maybe you need a snuggle buddy.”

I blinked. “Are you referring to Bumblebee?” I asked.

My son lit up. “You mean I get to sleep on Dad’s berth?”

Ratchet nodded. “He needs to know you’re safe so he can sleep at night.”

I started to protest, then paused.

Was Bumblebee not being in my sights affecting my sleep schedule? Maybe it was…

“…Very well. Bumblebee may be my…er…snuggle buddy.” I said, smiling softly. No one could tell because of my mask, though. That will help me keep an optic on you at all times, at least, I thought.

Judging by the overjoyed look on Bumblebee’s faceplate, he liked that idea.

Maybe I wasn’t totally lost in the maze as long as he was here.