Work Text:
It’s a Prime who flies in to save Ultra Magnus from Megatron’s cannon, and it’s a Prime– eyes burning, hands transformed to triple-barreled guns and fire erupting from his plating like a solar flare– who topples Darkmount.
It’s a Prime who returns to Ratchet and the others, hands clasped and head bowed, at least a meter taller than he used to be and with an upgraded frame that has flames softly curling at the curves.
It’s not Ratchet’s Prime.
He looks at Smokescreen (“Nebulus Prime” he’d said, in the voice that should be several octaves higher, in the voice that didn’t belong to him) and he takes in the sight of his chest nearly expanded beyond its limit with what had to be the Matrix, and he asks. He asks, even though he knows the answer.
“Where,” he says, hoarsely, through everyone’s chatter and their rush to grab at the new Prime. “Where…”
He doesn’t finish.
Smokescreen– Nebulus– locks eyes with him, from across the room. How strange, that he’s the tallest one there. His mass overshadows even Ultra Magnus’.
Optimus, Ratchet almost says, helplessly, futilely. The others will realize it soon. They’ll ask. And the new Prime will tell them.
But Ratchet doesn’t need, or want, to hear.
He knows that his true Prime is gone.