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Ratchet hated to admit how terrified he was.
It had been eons since he held the fear that Optimus Prime could be dead somewhere and that he was nowhere near. It had been eons since Ratchet didn’t know where Optimus was at all. So yeah, he was terrified.
And 3 days in that fear turned to panic. 5 days in, that panic turned to pain. 1 week in, that pain turned to exhaustion. 2 weeks in, finally, Ratchet decided it was over. That the Autobots had lost Optimus Prime and that Megatron won.
That he had lost Optimus Prime.
Every time he thought his neural net would give him a break he’d be reminded of all the things he could have said instead of a disbelieving “I never thought it would end like this.”. Maybe a “please don’t do this” or even a “before you die I just wanted you to know I never stopped loving you”? That last one haunted him as much as Orion Pax did. And he couldn’t stop thinking. Were those really the last words he’d ever say to his leader? To his friend, to his- to his everything?
And as 2 weeks came and went, he realized they were. And that he was so, so very tired.
He was ashamed to admit he had given up. Ashamed that Rafael and Bumblebee had taken all that time to find him only for him to chase them away so he could wallow in his loss. Ashamed that he could do nothing but think of all the things he should have done and how instead he did everything all wrong.
But he couldn’t do anything without Optimus. Without the only reason he bothered to fight to survive.
Recharge was all that kept him sane. Simply sleep through reality and he wouldn’t have to reckon with the fact that no bot could have survived in a wreckage that the base was left in, not even the Prime.
Yet, even in sleep, he saw him; Optimus was always there.
The first sleep-filed night in the car dump Ratchet saw Optimus, sitting in a tent around a battle-torn Cybertron, staring wistfully as the medic dressed dozens of wounds. How he smiled at Ratchet, optics dim with exhaustion, and requested permission to recharge. Ratchet remembered thinking curiously why he asked for his approval, before obviously giving it. Then Optimus’ head rested on the medic’s shoulder, causing his fans to freeze and his hands to still, and all Ratchet wanted to do was hold him close but he knew that if he dared he’d never want to let go and the love brimming in his spark would never go silent again.
Ratchet awoke in that car park, only to find he had transformed and his servos were reaching out in an attempt to grasp a non-existent leader. It had been a very long time since Ratchet had sobbed as he did that night, wishing all the words left unspoken could be said.
Finally, after multiple nights of those memories, Ratchet knew he had to do what he always did when he got like this. When his spark was torn with hundreds of alien emotions– work. Make his hands move until they were all he could think about. So, as pointless as he thought it, he found Bumblebee and Rafeal and helped.
And the team reunited.
But Optimus was nowhere to be seen.
Ultra Magnus’ return did inspire some hope, but once Smokescreen and the Prime failed to make an appearance, Ratchet could do nothing but coast by, hoping no one would notice how every few minutes, he would check to see if he could find a life signature, before dropping his arm in defeat.
Then everything went wrong and Ratchet thought something he knew he would shame himself for if they all survived.
Just end it so I have a reason to be with him.
That thought rang through his processor until an Autobot signature came online. Ratchet realized it was airborne, declared it impossible, because he couldn’t take it if it wasn’t him if he was just getting his hopes up because Primus he was so desperate to be proven wrong for once.
And he was wrong, and he could barely stop himself from his knees buckling and sending him to the floor, tears of relief pouring down his face.
He was alive.
And that was all that mattered.
*****
It was over. Another battle won, another new home to scrap together. And Optimus was alive.
His new body was one to get used to, but it was him. The same optics and lip twitches that others wouldn’t realize were his smiles. The same colors and protective spark.
The same bot that Ratchet realized he loved so much and he couldn’t bear lying to himself about it any longer.
After the team's reunion in their new base, he allowed himself an hour before calling Optimus to what would soon become the new medbay.
And of course, Optimus walked in right as requested.
Ratchet permitted himself to bask in the light of the Prime for a few moments before clearing his throat.
“Optimus, are you well?” he asked with a false smile and closed optics. The Prime grunted a soft ‘hm’ before closing the new door. The sound threw the medic off guard.
But nothing could have prepared him for what happened after that moment.
Nothing could have prepared him for Optimus walking forward, grabbing both of Ratchet’s shoulders, and pulling him so close it almost hurt.
The medic couldn’t respond. The embrace was something alien, what would be called ‘unbecoming’ of a Prime. But, finally, instead of freezing, Ratchet just relaxed into the hold– even daring to bring an arm around his back to his shoulder.
“Smokescreen told me. I-” Ratchet cleared his throat again, refusing to allow his vocals to crack with the weight of unshed tears. “I’m so relieved he didn’t listen to you.”
Optimus huffed another sound. Soft laughter, to his standard. It worried Ratchet.
“Optimus?”
Only after those seconds of silence did he feel the liquid splash on his shoulder plating. The liquid that made Ratchet’s optics widen and his arms act of their own accord, reaching up and pulling Optimus impossibly closer.
“I-” his voice– the same voice– that spoke so softly that you couldn’t hear the shaking caught in the larger’s throat.
“I never thought I’d see you again, old friend.”
Ratchet’s spark finally broke where cracks had been forming for millennia.
He could pull away and smile softly, whispering a happy ‘you either old friend’ to match the Prime’s cadence. He could laugh and mock old friends. He could stay silent.
He could ignore his spark and say that this was his most treasured friend in the whole universe and nothing more.
He could, but he wouldn’t.
Because the idea that he didn’t wish for the bot in front of him to be with him and love him ‘till that day he died was always wrong.
No. No, it was always a lie.
So Ratchet pulled away, put his forehead on the Prime’s, and whispered–
“Please bond with me so I never feel I’ve lost you ever again.”