Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Optimus couldn’t sleep. 

   Too much had happened recently. Most of it was good, but… Optimus was haunted by the bad.

   Every time Optimus closed his eyes, he saw Sentinal betraying the Primes. Betraying everyone in Iacon by giving their hard-mined Energon to the Quintessons. The fight in the High Guard’s base between D-17 and Starscream, then Sentinal’s soldiers capturing his friends. The battle over Iacon, having to face D-17 in battle, having to banish his best friend…

   But none of those were the worst moments he had to relive.

   Memory flashed to the forefront, of D-17’s eyes darkening as he told Orion he was done saving him. And dropping Orion.

   Every time, Optimus jerked awake with a gasp, his chassis thrumming and his panting echoing around his chamber.

   Optimus thrust himself from the berth, shaking his helm and telling himself to calm down. It was just a dream, after all, just a… well, a memory, but he was alone now.

   Optimus lowered his servos and gazed around the empty chamber. Some of the Autobots thought he should’ve chosen a chamber in the city, preferably on one of the tallest towers, but Optimus had opted for a chamber in Sublevel 5. It was dark and quiet… which Optimus thought probably wasn’t the best choice after all.

   He wasn’t used to being alone. Miners’ berths were always jam-packed together, so many to a chamber that half of them were stacked on top of the others. It didn’t matter what shift was your turn to rest, there was always motion and noise, chatter as miners patched themselves up, discussed their shifts, or worked on their gear.

   Unsurprisingly, most of the former miners had moved into Iacon city, leaving Optimus all alone for once.

   Optimus’ sigh echoed through the chamber.

   A blaring alarm brought Optimus launching out of his berth. He ran from the chamber and to the nearest mineshaft, quickly scaling it without needing to transform. He reached Iacon just as the first of the Autobots jetted to the surface.

   “Optimus!”

   Optimus glanced over as Elita and B-127 raced toward him. He was a little caught off-guard that they’d found him so quickly, but then again, Elita was his Commander and B was… well, B.

   Transforming, Optimus raced to the front of a group of Autobots driving upward, Elita and B on his tail. In moments, they reached the surface, losing their transformation and rolling into battle mode.

   “Quintessons,” Elita said, and Optimus could hear her eye roll. “When will they learn?”

   Optimus shrugged before charging into battle, his ax forming in one hand. Quintessons had ruled Cybertron for fifty cycles; of course they wouldn’t just give up.

   Optimus was still getting used to his battle form, but had been getting plenty of practice dealing with the stubborn Quintessons. He crashed through a wall of Quintessons while transformed, then rolled to his pedes, spinning the ax to buy himself a brief respite to look skyward.

   A Quintesson ship was hovering over the battlefield. No more of their soldiers had dropped for a time, possibly in favor of targeting the transformed, aircraft Autobots harrying it.

   Something crashed behind Optimus. He turned in time to see B untransform, tumbling to his feet, battle mask down and plasma “knife hands” flashing into existence. He lunged forward, right for-

   Optimus jerked his helm to the side, swiveling on his heel strut in the same move. He dodged away from B’s plasma blades, dispersing his own battle ax a split-second before reaching up. He grabbed B’s wrist without slowing his spin, jerking B over his shoulder and tossing him aside.

   B hit the ground with twin squawks - one of metal and one of his own surprise. Optimus barely had time to register the noise before a sharp pain, accompanied a shriek of metal, flared across his back strut. He shouted and jerked back, servo lashing out to punch the Quintesson that had just cut into him. The Quintesson gave a scream of rage before Optimus sliced it in half with his reformed battle ax.

   Optimus didn’t move for a moment, panting. He could barely feel the gash in his back strut, his processor screeching to a halt as he turned his helm back to B.

   B was just staggering to his pedes, battle mask put away as he grinned sheepishly at Optimus. His chassis was dented and a drop of Energon dribbled from his intake.

   “Sorry, Optimus!” B called cheerfully. “Guess I could’ve just warned you about that guy, huh?”

   Optimus stared at B, distantly grateful for his battle mask to cover his gaping intake. Had he just…

   Optimus shook himself and gestured to B’s damage. “Go see Ratchet.”

   B stubbornly shook his helm. “It’s just a little dent! Nothing like your back strut!”

   “I’m not the one leaking,” Optimus said sharply. “Fall back, B!”

   B sighed and grumbled, but retreated toward the city. Optimus turned away, then froze yet again.

   Elita was standing nearby. From the furrow of her optical ridges, Optimus had a feeling she’d seen the whole thing.

   “Come on,” Optimus said to Elita, “We’ve got a fight to finish.”

   “I know,” Elita said harshly, then transformed to race away.

   “What was that?”

   Optimus withheld a groan. He’d only just gotten away from Ratchet’s prodding and had returned to his chamber for some peace and quiet to think about how to get rid of the Quintessons for good.

   He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Elita waiting, practically rattling with anger. Optimus was only surprised she hadn’t greeted him with a punch. 

   “What was what?” Optimus asked tiredly.

   “You know what I’m talking about!” Elita said heatedly. “You dented B!”

   “I…” Optimus faltered. “I thought he was a Quintesson!”

   Elita snorted. “Oh, yeah, I can really see the similarity.”

   “It was an accident,” Optimus said, spreading his servos pleadingly. “Ratchet had already sent him out of the repair ward by the time I got there.”

   “So, he’s fine then?” Elita asked coldly.

   “Yeah? I just said he was out of the repair ward,” Optimus said, confused as to where Elita was going with her question.

   “So, where is he?”

   Optimus rubbed his optics. “I don’t know, probably replaying the battle for the Autobots who didn’t join the fight.”

   Elita continued to stare at Optimus.

   “What?” Optimus said, trying to not whine.

   Elita abruptly looked away. “Nothing. I’m going to go find B.”

   “Need some help?” Optimus offered, though he really didn’t want to face B yet.

   Elita’s optics narrowed. “No.”

   She slammed the door on the way out, leaving Optimus even more tired and confused. 

   After a moment, Optimus turned to the plans he’d been working on the previous solar cycle. He pushed the incident with B out of his mind. B had startled him on the battlefield, that was all. He’d have to find B later and apologize for throwing him, and to make sure B knew to not surprise him like that again.

One solar cycle later…

    Screech!

   “B, I-”

    Screech!

   Everyone in the repair ward winced collectively. The source of their pain opened his intake again and gave another plaintive screech.

   “B-127, my audials are going to start leaking soon if you don’t shut up,” Ratchet growled.

   B flung his servos out with another screech. Energon leaked out of his sliced intake.

   “B, please,” Optimus pleaded, taking B’s servo. “Just hold still while Ratchet works, alright?”

   “We’d be done by now if you didn’t insist on-”

   Ratchet was interrupted by another screech. The medic pressed a digit to his helm in exasperation.

   “B. B, look at me,” Optimus said. “Look at me, please.”

   B turned his servos toward Optimus. He was starting to shake so bad he was rattling, and Optimus knew he had to get B calmed down.

   “Just don’t move,” Optimus said, keeping his voice low and soothing. “It’s just a scratch. Ratchet will have you fixed up in just a few kliks.”

   “Faster if you hold still and stop trying to talk,” Ratchet said drily. He was prodding B’s voice box as he spoke, finally able to work now that B was holding fairly still. “What even happened? B, I’m not asking you!”

   B slumped. His optics turned to Optimus, full of questions. 

   “It was an accident,” Optimus said dully.

   “I figured as much,” Ratchet said, grabbing a tool to tweak something in B’s voice box. “This isn’t a Quintesson injury.”

   “...it was B’s plasma blades.”

   Ratchet stopped working to look between the Autobots. “How do you accidentally stab yourself in the voice box?”

   B lifted his servos in a shrug. 

   “What happened?!”

   Everyone jumped and turned to Elita in the doorway. She glared between the three Autobots, mad enough that she looked ready to start steaming.

   “In just a moment…” Ratchet trailed off, then leaned back with a nod. “Try it, B.”

   “Are you-” B coughed, his voice a little squeaky, then resumed in his normal voice, “I- I can talk again! Ratchet, I can talk again!”

   “And there goes our peace and quiet,” Ratchet said drily. “Now, are you going to explain how that happened?”

   “I tripped,” B said cheerfully.

   Ratchet stared at B. “You… tripped.”

   “So, I might’ve run into Optimus first, he dodged into the way of the Quintesson I was going after,” B rambled, kicking his pedes like a sparkling, “And so I ran into Optimus, and he probably thought I was another Quintesson because he threw me off, huh, Optimus?”

   Optimus nodded stiffly, only half listening as Elita’s glare turned to him.

   “Anyway, so I tripped and kind of caught myself with my elbows, so my servos kind of caught my helm, no biggie!” B said, all of his earlier distress utterly gone now that he could talk again.

   “No biggie,” Ratchet dead-panned. “Right.”

   Ratchet turned to a locker and opened it. He pulled out some Energon cubes, which he kept stocked to use during battles if Energon wasn’t flowing close enough. And to occasionally keep B quiet in the repair ward for the five nano-kliks it took him to eat a cube.

   “Take three Energon cubes and try to give your voice box a rest for a solar cycle,” Ratchet said, passing the cubes over to B. “I’ll check it in the morning, but com me if it gives you any more trouble before then.”

   B, already crunching down on a cube, nodded with a grin. Optimus took that as his cue to leave.

   B wasn’t allowed to join the next battle, mostly by Ratchet’s orders since he’d needed repairs after the last two fights. Repairs that, according to B, were entirely his fault.

   The next time B joined the fight, Optimus never saw him. B also avoided having to visit the repair ward after the fight, coming out of the battle without a scratch. Nobody seemed to notice, though Optimus had seen Elita hovering near B as they returned to the city.

   And then, during the next battle, Optimus accidentally punched Elita in the face.

   He spent the next few solar cycles frantically avoiding Elita, both on the battlefield and off.

Ten solar cycles later…

   “Optimus!”

   Optimus jumped and spun. His ax formed in his servo before he could think, and it sliced through the air. Elita, standing just out of range of the blade, didn’t flinch.

   “Elita, you almost scared the spark out of me!” Optimus yelped.

   “Good,” Elita snapped.

   Optimus clapped a servo to his faceplate. “Not now, Elita.”

   “You’ve been avoiding me,” Elita accused.

   “I haven’t, I’m just busy,” Optimus hedged. “I’m a Prime now, you know…”

   “Don’t give me that scrap,” Elita snapped. “You spend enough time in the archives for someone who’s supposedly too busy to check in on a friend every now and then. Especially when he’s in the repair ward right next to you!”

   Optimus couldn’t help wincing. Okay, so him avoiding B after the last battle had been somewhat obvious.

   “Jazz already got on my case,” Optimus grumbled.

   Elita raised one optic ridge. “Jazz?”

   “He was in the same repair ward and got his audials talked off for three groons,” Optimus dead-panned.

   “He deserves it after using himself as a shield for B,” Elita commented, some of the heat ebbing from her voice.

   Optimus had a nano-klik to hope that Elita would move on, but her optics narrowed.

   “Which leads me to my next question,” Elita said, again crossing her arms. “From the first nano-klik I saw you with B, you’ve been protecting him in fights. Me, too, but I don’t need anyone watching my skid-plate, so it’s no big deal that you’re apparently ignoring your commander on the battlefield .”

   “But B can barely hold his own, you know that!” Elita continued to scold while Optimus began subtly scouting an escape route. “He’s fast, he’s got his battle mask and his knives, and he thinks he’s invincible, but he’s not. He keeps running away from the group -something he never did when you were sticking close to keep him on track, I might add- and putting himself into danger.”

   “I’ll talk to him, okay?” Optimus said, trying to get Elita to calm down. “Tell him to be more careful when we go onto the surface and… what?”

   Elita was shaking her head. “I’m not talking about the fights.”

   Optimus frowned, entirely confused now. “I thought you were?”

   “Optimus, you-” 

   Elita pressed a digit to her intake and took a deep breath. Optimus wondered if he should be more or less concerned about the obvious attempt at cooling down. Normally, Elita would’ve just hit him if she thought he was being too difficult.

   “Do you have any idea how hard it is to not punch you right now?” Elita asked.

   “I’m surprised you haven’t yet,” Optimus admitted.

   “Only because I like all my limbs attached.”

   “All your-”

   Optimus followed Elita’s pointed glance down. She was staring at… his ax? Why was he even still holding it? He quickly dismissed it, trying to stay on topic.

   “Okay, now what-”

   Elita took two steps forward and punched Optimus in the faceplate hard enough that he spun halfway around. He blinked, then turned back to Elita, rubbing his intake.

   “Feel better now?” Optimus asked hopefully. 

   “Not at all.”

   “Oh-kay.” Optimus took a step back. “Could you just… come on, Elita, what’s wrong?”

   “I could ask you the same thing,” Elita said. She pressed on before Optimus could respond. “You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, you spend all your spare time in the archives, and the amount of times you’ve hit me and B is starting to feel personal!”

   “...back up, how do you know I’m not sleeping?” Optimus asked.

   “Ratchet said he’s going to chain you to your berth if you don’t sleep soon,” Elita said.

   “So how’s Ratchet-”

   “It’s obvious to anyone with optics, Optimus!”

   “Elita, I know showing concern is hard for you, but usually punching someone isn’t involved when you’re concerned for their well-being,” Optimus said.

   “Well, it’s how I do it,” Elita said.

   “Fine, fine, tell Ratchet I’ll sleep,” Optimus said.

   “You’re missing the point!”

   “Just tell me what the point is, please!” Optimus said, flinging his servos out in near desperation.

   “You’re hurting B!”

   “It-it was an accident!” Optimus stammered, optics darting around.

   “You’re having an awful lot of accidents around B,” Elita said.

   “Both of us are still figuring out the whole battle thing, and maybe don’t have the best reflexes,” Optimus tried. He turned to his table of plans. “We’ll figure it out, Elita. But later. I’m busy right now.”

   “Busy avoiding B?”

   Optimus didn’t respond. Elita… was right. Though at that moment, he wished he could avoid Elita as well.

   “Come on, Optimus, even B is starting to figure it out. He deserves an explanation.”

   Optimus could hear the frustration in her voice. Though she’d never say, Optimus knew she wanted the truth as well. Because it wasn’t just B, but Elita seemed to have chosen to ignore that she was getting the same treatment at the moment.

   “Well?”

   “I said I’m busy, Elita,” Optimus said. “I’ll talk to B later.”

   “No, you’ll just find another excuse to avoid B, then go back to not talking to B, just watching him from across the room! Yes, I’ve seen you, Optimus,” Elita spat. “Why, Optimus, why? You stare at B like you’re analyzing a battlefield! And when you are on the battlefield, you can fight the Quintessons and rescue the other bots without any issue, but the moment B’s close by, you’re too distracted watching him and trying to hit him if he gets too close!”

   Optimus’ intake grated against itself. “Elita…”

   “You’ve gone from defending B to- to-” Elita broke off, as if she couldn’t bear to say it. “Why, Optimus? If you don’t want to tell me, at least talk to B! He’s your friend!”

   Optimus slammed a fist on the table. “So was D-16!”

   Optimus panted, the admission hot in his vents. He dragged his digits out of the new dent on the table and turned halfway, leaning tiredly on the table as he turned his faceplate toward Elita.

   Elita was staring at Optimus, speechless and motionless for once. 

   It didn’t last long, of course. But Elita only had time to clench her optical ridges before a clatter came from the hall.

   “Who’s there?” Optimus asked.

   Getting no response, Optimus pushed away from the table. Admittedly, he was glad for the distraction from the admission that, until a few nano-kliks ago, he hadn’t dared to even think about.

   The relief lasted long enough for him to leave his chamber. The hall was empty, aside from a few abandoned pieces of equipment and three Energon cubes.

   “Frag,” Optimus whispered.

   “Optimus, don’t think you can-” Elita broke off when she realized Optimus wasn’t listening to her. “What are those doing there? With all the Energon in the city and surface, the only bot who still carries the cubes is…”

   “B!” Optimus yelled.

   His voice echoed back at him, but there was no response. Optimus strained his audials, but B must’ve been moving fast because he couldn’t hear a thing.

   How much had B heard? With Optimus’ current luck, probably everything. 

   Optimus bolted, taking the quickest path to the surface. He scanned the bots around him frantically, but couldn’t spot B’s bright yellow coloring.

   “Have you seen B-127?” Optimus asked an Autobot who was cleaning the walkway.

   “Oh, yeah, he went that way in a big rush,” the bot said, pointing.

   “Thanks!” Optimus called back as he started running.

   Following the directions of various bots, Optimus soon found himself nearing the city’s entrance. He slowed, staring at the entrance, a rising heat in his vents as he tried to convince himself that B wouldn’t have done something so foolish as to go onto the surface alone!

   Right?

   “Optimus!”

   Optimus spun at Jazz’s call. He startled when he realized Elita was close beside him, but focused on Jazz.

   “What’s up with B?” Jazz asked as he joined them.

   “There’s been a misunderstanding,” Optimus said.

   He could see Elita roll her optics, but chose to ignore it for the moment. Jazz’s optical ridges were furrowing, his troubled expression making Optimus’ spark twinge.

   “Must’ve been a pretty big misunderstanding,” Jazz said.

   “What? Did B say something?”

   “B stopped me, wanted me to pass a message onto you,” Jazz said hesitantly. “He said he was going to spare you the trouble. Then he took off for the surface.”

Chapter Text

   Optimus stared at Jazz, then shook himself, knowing there wasn’t any time to waste. B wasn’t that far ahead of him; Optimus could still catch him if he hurried.

   Jazz was still talking as he ran alongside Optimus. “I tried to grab him, but he was too fast. Ironhide and Prowl tried to stop him at the entrance, too, but B slipped past them. They’re collecting a patrol now, and I was coming to get you.” 

   “I’ll go after B,” Optimus said, halting. “When the patrol’s ready, have them wait on the surface in case any Quintessons show up.”

   “Are you-”

  “I’m sure!” Optimus interrupted before transforming and zooming away. 

   Talking to B was going to be hard enough. Neither of them needed an audience.

   Optimus landed on the surface and detransformed, rolling to his pedes to look around. It didn’t take him long to notice the dust cloud in B’s wake, though he was already concerningly far ahead.

   A thud made Optimus look over as Elita landed beside him. He scowled at her.

   “Wait here with the patrol,” Optimus said.

   Elita, remaining transformed, just raced away. Optimus’ com blipped.

   “Go back to the city. I’ll spare you the trouble and get B.”

   Optimus transformed and sped after Elita, calling up to her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

   “If you play dumb one more time, I’m shoving you into the city, Prime or not.”

   Optimus didn’t respond at first. Unbidden, his dreams and memories came to his processor. 

   He’d just put himself on the surface, alone, with Elita and B.

   Optimus’ tire hit a rock. Going faster than he realized, Optimus spun out of control. Sensing he was about to fall on his side, Optimus quickly detransformed. He rolled to his pedes with as much awkwardness as his first transformation, finally stumbling to a halt with his servos flailing.

   “You’re still back there?” Elita commed. She might’ve slowed, but she didn’t stop. “You were quiet for so long, I thought you’d turned back. Just go already, Optimus, I have this handled.”

   Optimus frowned. Elita sounded… tired. Which was ridiculous because she never let herself show any kind of weakness. He distinctly remembered the time she’d worked for ten shifts in a row and still managed to yell at him for leaving his jetpack in one of the mining tunnels.

   Optimus transformed and kept following.

   A long time passed in silence. The city fell further away, until it wasn’t on any of Optimus’ sensors. Even the Energon rivers were becoming smaller and further apart. The smooth ground became jagged with ridges and random spikes. He shuddered subconsciously and slowed when he realized he’d gone out of comm range.

   What was he doing? Elita said she’d get B back. He should go back and… and, what? Leave two bots on the surface?

   Leave his friends?

  Optimus’ tire hit a metal spike. His wheels spun and his body swung wildly around, but Optimus kept himself on his wheels. He sped back up.

   Elita had to have heard him again, but she didn’t react to Optimus still following. 

   “Look,” Optimus sighed, hoping the two of them hadn’t turned their comms off, “I’m sorry, alright?”

   No response.

   “Can’t we go back to the city and talk it over?” Optimus asked. “There’s nothing out here, not even-”

   Optimus stopped himself, not sure why he’d been about to say “Decepticons.” 

   The Autobots had been keeping an eye on where Megatron and his Decepticons had chosen to settle. It was a completely barren spot that was full of jagged valleys, so nobody got too close. They watched from a distance, making sure they didn’t leave to get revenge.

   But their valley was in the opposite direction that B had gone. B hadn’t left to join the Decepticons.

   Optimus was as equally relieved as he was confused as to why he thought that’s where B was going.

   Optimus kind of wanted to ask Elita to punch him in the faceplate again. Maybe it would help sort his thoughts somehow.

  “Optimus,” Elita said, startling Optimus so he nearly lost control again, “Go back to Iacon City. You’re going to get yourself killed out here and, contrary to what you think, I don’t want that.”

   “I never said you wanted me dead,” Optimus said guiltily.

   “I see it in your optics, Optimus. And you already said that you see Megatron in B, somehow-” Elita faltered when there was a screech of tires and B’s dust cloud abruptly thickened- “So, who is it you’re comparing me to?”

   “It isn’t… you’re Elita! And B’s just B!”

   “Stop lying or else I will punch you again,” Elita threatened.

   “It’s not that I- I don’t-” Optimus sighed, his thoracic cavity hot with stress and confusion. “I don’t want to, Elita! I swear! I just… I thought I knew D-16, but every night cycle, I relive him dropping me!”

   “Well, make up your mind as to whether or not you’re going to trust me and B,” Elita said, her voice hard. “And while you’re at it, decide if you’re going to trust anyone ever again.”

   Optimus slowed. Did he… did he trust anyone? He trusted Ratchet to repair injured Autobots, but he didn’t spend any more time than absolutely necessary in the repair ward himself, did he? He trusted the Windblade, Prowl, and the other patrollers to warn the city of Quintessons, but that hadn’t ever stopped Optimus from joining surface patrols whenever he could. He trusted the Jazz, Ironhide, M-12, and the other fighters to defend the city… but not Optimus himself. 

   It had just always been more obvious with Elita and B. The other Autobots saw Optimus as a Prime who didn’t need help in the fights. Elita and B… they watched his back because they’d been doing it since day one on the surface, back when they were still just miner bots with no transformation cogs.

   …D-16 had changed completely when he decided he couldn’t trust anyone but himself. That’s what had changed.

   If Optimus was falling into the same trap of trusting nobody, that made him more like Megatron than B. B, who wouldn’t - couldn’t - betray a friend of his. B was loyal like that. He’d only gone to the surface because he thought Optimus would be happier if he didn’t have to keep an optic on B.

   Oh Primus, Optimus was an idiot.

   Optimus sped up. B was getting closer, as if he’d slowed or stopped. Not that he could see B yet, but the dust cloud was just getting bigger and thicker and…

   Optimus accelerated so sharply that he flew past Elita. He neared the dust cloud, his audials picking up the sounds of yelps, screeching metal, and mechanical roars.

   The dust briefly cleared, giving Optimus a glimpse of B and the five Quintessons trying to drag him away.

   “B!”

   Optimus rammed into the first Quintesson without slowing, smashing it into a dozen pieces. His wheels skidded on the debris, and Optimus chose to detransform, rolling with the momentum. Metal shrieked and snapped as Optimus ungracefully crashed into a second Quintesson and they both fell among the spiky ground.

   The second Quintesson started to get back up, but Optimus recovered faster. Forming his ax, he sliced the creature in half, then spun back toward B.

   B was still being dragged away by the remaining Quintessons. Aside from his pedes carving deep grooves in the ground, pistons squealing as he fought the Quintessons for every step, B wasn’t fighting back. It took Optimus a few nano-kliks to see why.

   One of the Quintesson’s tentacles was wrapped around B’s chassis and arms, pinning his servos right underneath his faceplate. B couldn’t activate his blades without cutting himself.

   A high-pitched sound was coming from B’s intake and his optics were roiling in every direction. He was panicking so badly that he didn’t notice Optimus or that one of the Quintessons had left off dragging him to charge at Optimus.

   Optimus didn’t move. He didn’t need to.

   Elita, airborne, raced by Optimus so close he felt a rush of air against his audials. Elita’s undercarriage smashed down on the Quintesson.

    Then Optimus charged, spinning his ax. The fourth Quintesson left its companion to intercept Optimus. 

   Finally, B noticed them. His optics darted to Optimus. His optical ridges shot up, the shock on his faceplate making Optimus’ spark twinge with pain.

   B hadn’t expected a rescue.

   Anger, as much against the Quintessons attacking B as it was against himself for letting B lose so much faith in him, filled Optimus. He kicked off the jagged ground, ax spinning. The Quintesson charged, but Optimus rolled to the side, slicing through a couple tentacles so it veered toward the ground. Elita was already turning to finish it off, so Optimus spun back to B.

   “O-O-O-” B stammered. 

   Optimus’ spark stuttered. How could he have hurt B so badly?

   The remaining Quintesson twisted, throwing B aside. Then it spun around and darted away.

   “Elita-” Optimus started.

   Elita had already taken chase. “I’ve got it, you check on B!”

   Incredibly thankful for Elita -while trying to not think about how much he’d doubted her recently- Optimus turned to run to where B had landed. B was trying to stand, his optics trained on Optimus, but he was trembling too hard.

   It didn’t matter. Optimus reached him quickly and easily lifted B up to his pedes. After a quick check that B had all his limbs, Optimus yanked him close and hugged him as tight as he could.

   B squeaked. “Op-Op-”

   “I’m sorry about what I said,” Optimus interrupted. “I was confused and hurt, but that’s no excuse for even thinking it. You’re nothing like Megatron, you’re just B and you’re one of my best friends, and nothing’s ever going to change that. I understand if you can’t forgive me right now, but, please, know that I’m never going to doubt you again.”

   “It’s f-fine, b-but-” B stammered.

   Optimus shook his helm and leaned back enough to give B a fond smile. It really wasn’t okay that he’d hurt B that way, but B had always moved on pretty quickly.

   Optimus’ amusement fled when B continued to rattle. Had the near capture shaken him up so badly? B fought often enough that Optimus would’ve thought he was used to fighting, but maybe being captured even briefly had stirred up bad memories.

   “We can talk some more back home,” Optimus said gently. “Here, I’ll help.”

   “Op- no, wait!” B squawked as Optimus picked him up.

   He’d never tried carrying B in his arms before, but Optimus found it was easy. B was smaller than all of the other Transformers, and Optimus was a Prime. He was twice B’s size!

   Optimus’ processor wandered back to the time he’d asked Ratchet about B’s size. He’d been worried about sending a too-young Transformer into battle, but Ratchet had assured Optimus that B was old enough. He’d determined that during production, something had cut off B’s Energon supply, leaving him slightly stilted in physical and perhaps mental growth.

   Ratchet didn’t know if B would ever grow.

   “How’s B?”

   Elita’s question yanked Optimus back to the present. He turned to her, a little startled to find her at his side and a destroyed Quintesson behind her. How long had he zoned out?

   “We need to get him back to Iacon City,” Optimus said, focusing on the task at hand.

   “Optimus, wait!” B yelped before Optimus could move.

   Optimus looked down at him, worried. B had some dents, and his chassis was slick with Energon. Optimus couldn’t see the source, but there was a lot of Energon pooled at his feet.

   “Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Optimus said.

   “Uh, Optimus?” Elita said, her voice so clearly worried that Optimus’ spark jittered. 

   “I’m not hurt!” B said. “Put me down!”

   Optimus shook his helm and started walking. 

   “Pax!”

   The use of his old name made Optimus again stop. He turned to Elita, optical ridges furrowed in confusion. Elita and B were acting weird. Not evil weird, just weird. Maybe Elita had hit her helm at some point and was as confused as B, who was very clearly injured despite his claims otherwise.

   “What’s wrong, Elita?” Optimus asked, glancing back at B.

   “New plan!” B piped up before Elita could respond. “I’ll walk back to Iacon City! No, I’ll drive, because I’m really fine, you can put me down now, Optimus!”

   “No,” Optimus said firmly. “Come on, you two, stop messing around. B, I’ll-”

   “Put him down, Pax!” 

   “Elita, why do you keep calling me Pax?” Optimus asked, confused.

   “Because ‘Optimus’ isn’t getting through to you!” B said with too much cheer for the amount of Energon he’d lost.

   …or maybe B was acting weird because of the Energon he’d lost.

   “We have to hurry,” Optimus said.

   “No, just-” Elita jumped in front of Optimus. “Put B down!”

   Optimus shook his helm. “Elita, now’s not the time.”

   Elita’s dentas ground together. Optimus took a step back, wondering if she was going to hit him again even though he had no idea what she thought was wrong. B was hurt, and Optimus needed to get him to Ratchet, that was all.

   “Look,” Optimus said, walking around Elita, “More Quintessons are probably on their way, and we can’t call for back-up this far from the city. So if you think something’s wrong with B, tell me on the way.”

   “Oh, Primus, you picked the wrong bot for the Matrix,” Elita sighed.

   Optimus ignored her dramatics. “Keep up, Elita.”

   Optimus’ pedes caught on the rough ground. He stumbled forward, severely off-balance with B in his arms.

   Then B shoved his servos against Optimus’ chassis.

   Optimus was too busy trying to not fall on B to react in time. B slipped free from Optimus and hopped back a few steps, servos spread wide.

   “Look at me, Optimus, I’m just fine!” B said. 

   B was starting to sound a little desperate, which was strange because who else could be leaking? Optimus started toward him, then his pede skidded. Looking down, Optimus saw yet another puddle of Energon under him. Just how much Energon had B lost?

   “Pax!”

   Optimus grumbled as he turned to Elita. “What?”  

   “Before you try to grab B again,” Elita said with uncharacteristic slowness, “Look at yourself.”

   Optimus barely glanced down. “What? Look, Elita, I know I said I trust you two, but it would be a lot easier if you’d stop acting so weird!”

   B shifted awkwardly. “It is more visible from the side, Elita.”

   “What is-”

   Optimus broke off as he turned to B. His right side felt heavier than his left, something he hadn’t noticed while he was focused on carrying B. The result made him stumble sideways a step. Elita and B stepped toward him, servos held out, but both of them kept a short distance away.

   Optimus glanced at his servos, but he’d put his ax away already. That wasn’t why they weren’t getting close. But the way they were watching him… or, no, something past his right shoulder. 

   Optimus turned his faceplate to the side, but couldn’t see anything weird. Well, aside from an arch of metal that wasn’t part of him, but it was moving when he was moving and it was streaked in blue like…

   Moving slowly, Optimus checked his chassis again. At first glance, he was just dented. The Energon on him was just B’s since he’d been carrying him, but…

   It wasn’t a dent. It was a crater in his chassis. A crater Optimus now saw was spilling Energon from around the chunk of metal that was stabbed straight through him.

   “...not again.”

Chapter Text

   “Not again? Really?”

   Optimus shot Elita an exasperated look. “What else were you expecting? ‘Oh, no, I’ve been impaled’?”

   “Sure, except I’d have preferred it if you’d realized it a little quicker,” Elita said, getting closer. “You’ve got a patch kit, right?”

   “Don’t you have yours?” Optimus said, suddenly afraid to move his arms.

   “We’re going to need as much as we’ve got,” Elita pointed out.

   “I vote we keep moving,” Optimus said. “Transform, get out of here-”

   “No! Don’t transform!” Elita said, finally moving close enough to grab Optimus’ arm. “Never, ever transform if you’ve got shrapnel in you!”

   Optimus glanced at B, who just looked confused. He turned back to Elita while she opened her patch kit and took out a fat cylinder.

   “Why?” Optimus asked.

   “Transforming won’t get the metal out,” Elita said. She twisted the top of the cylinder and sprayed the contents into the crater in Optimus’ chassis while she talked. The spray hardened instantly when it came in contact with the Energon, forming a gray crust. “It will just stay in place while you transform, and cut you in half!”

   “Okay, no transforming, got it,” Optimus said. “What if you take the metal out?”

   Elita stopped spraying to give Optimus an incredulous look. “Has all the Energon leaked out of your processor?!”

   Optimus gave a pointed glance at the Energon pooling at his feet. He instantly regretted doing so, because that was a lot of Energon.

   Elita steadied Optimus when he swayed. “Don’t you dare go off-line now, Optimus. B and I aren’t big enough to drag your hull back to the city. Now hold still.”

   “But we can’t stay here,” B said, suddenly at Optimus’ side. “I heard the Quintessons calling their ship.”

   “Don’t stay still, don’t move, one of you make up your mind,” Optimus groaned.

   “Don’t be so dramatic,” Elita said. She frowned and shook the canister, then tossed it aside and grabbed Optimus’ patch kit.

   “I’m telling you that next time you get impaled.”

   “You’re assuming I’d ever move slow enough to get impaled,” Elita said.

   “Can you stop arguing?!” B shouted, servos flailing. “Elita, we have to go, and go now. We can help Optimus back to one of the streams of Energon. We can hide out there until help comes.”

   Optimus raised an optical ridge.

   “What? I have good ideas sometimes,” B huffed, forcing one of Optimus’ arms over his shoulders. 

   “No, that’s just the first time someone besides me tried to give Elita orders,” Optimus said, amused.

   “He’s not giving orders, just stating the obvious,” Elita said. “B, give me your sealant and get Optimus moving.”

   Optimus glanced at her. She was still holding his arm, steadying him while she worked, but seemed hesitant to help him like B was doing.

   Then again, she was standing on the side with the spike.

   “Someone tell me again why I can’t take this thing out?” Optimus asked as he started walking, leaning on B.

   “That metal’s cut through half your fuel lines, in case you haven’t noticed,” Elita said, still spraying while she walked alongside Optimus.

   “But I’m still on-line,” Optimus said, confused. He had a vague thought that he probably should’ve been following what Elita was saying without her having to spell it out for him, but just talking and not tripping over the ground was taking up most of his processing power.

   “Because it’s also blocking most of the severed lines,” Elita explained. “If we take it out, you’ll leak out in nano-kliks.”

   “Okay, don’t pull out the metal, got it.”

   “But we can’t leave it in there, not when you’re still leaking.”

   Optimus huffed out air, regretting it instantly. He felt cold all of the sudden. He clamped his intake and vents shut, the clacks drawing the others’ attention. Only Elita seemed to realize what he was doing. Thankfully, B started talking before she could comment.

   “Most of your severed fuel lines are blocked by the spike, but only some of them and some of them only partially,” B rambled. “So we can patch the lines we can reach and… hope that’s enough? It’s really all we can do, Elita, without Ratchet.”

   Elita grumbled, shook the last can of sealant, then threw it aside. “He needs a berth.”

   Elita shot Optimus a look before he could state that he was right there. Optimus wisely kept his intake shut. He felt a little warmer that way, but the Energon was still spilling down his chassis…

   Optimus flinched and said, “Trail.”

   Elita smacked the back of his helm. “Shut your vents.”

   B shot Elita an offended look, as though she’d hit him. Optimus responded by jutting a digit over his good shoulder. Elita glanced back. Optimus could tell she understood.

   Optimus hadn’t bothered trying to look, but he knew he was leaving a bright blue trail. Even if the three of them found somewhere to hide, the Quintessons would track them down in no time.

   “Okay, you’ve got more sealant, right?” B asked nervously.

   “That’s the last of it,” Elita said. “Try to not move too fast. Those patches are only meant to be temporary.”

   Optimus grunted. Three cans of sealant, and he could still feel Energon leaking.

    Warning: Energon at 50%

   Optimus lurched in surprise so hard his servos slipped from B’s shoulder. Elita grabbed him, barely keeping Optimus upright.

   “What the scrap was that?!” Elita demanded.

   “Uh…”

   The warning flashed once more across Optimus’ vision before disappearing. He knew what he’d seen, but he hadn’t seen status alerts since his first solar cycle on-line, never mind one so ominous.

   “Pax!”

   Optimus turned his faceplate toward Elita. He wondered if it was the first time she’d said his name.

   “How far to go?” Optimus asked slowly.

   “Not far,” Elita said.

   “Are we talking by pede or by wheel?”

   “Pax, I told you to shut your vents,” Elita said, her intake a slit. “Come on, keep walking.”

   “My tanks are half empty, Elita,” Optimus said slowly.

   “The leaks are patched.” Elita tugged on Optimus. “Now come on.”

   Optimus started walking again, trying to ignore the Energon he could still feel leaking. Something inside him rattled if he moved his right arm. He tried to keep his right arm still, but he just felt further off-balance that way.

   “B, swap with me,” Elita said suddenly.

   Optimus and B stopped to give Elita confused looks. 

   “Optimus has to lean too far down for you to help him, B,” Elita said, going around to Optimus’ other side. Before B could look too disappointed, Elita went on, “Scout ahead and find the clearest path. Optimus is dragging his pedes.”

   B promptly perked up and let Elita take his place. Optimus found the added height did make it easier to keep his balance, but they were still moving too slowly.

   B took his new role very seriously. He rushed back-and-forth, sometimes transformed and sometimes not. A couple times, he maneuvered upright, but on two wheels instead of pedes and still with two panels protruding from his back so he appeared to have small wings.

   However erratic his methods, though, B didn’t fail to find the smoothest path. Optimus focused less on lifting his pedes with each step. Dragging them took less effort, no matter what Elita said.

    Warning: Energon at 40%

   “Bad news,” Optimus grunted.

   “Keep moving,” Elita said tensely.

   B, currently transformed, rushed into view from around a huge spike. He detransformed, rolling to his pedes in front of Optimus and Elita with a worried frown. 

   “The good news is,” B said without prompting, “We’re coming onto the plains, so the way is going to be a lot smoother! Bad news, I spotted Quintessons.”

   Optimus tensed. “Behind us?”

   B nodded.

   Optimus hesitated, then made a decision. “We’ll have to go around the edge of the plain.”

   “Can you make it that far?” Elita asked critically. 

   “It’s that or all three of us get caught on the plain.” Optimus stared at the ground for a few nano-kliks, his processor moving much more slowly than he wanted. “Or… leave me here. The two of you-”

   “I didn’t drag your skid-plate this far to leave you to them,” Elita interrupted.

   “I’m not saying that,” Optimus groaned.

   “Shut your vents, Optimus, before you seize up,” Elita said.

   Optimus opened his intake to argue.

   “ Pax , check your internal temps,” Elita said sharply.

   Standing still, Optimus realized the chill had returned. “...oh.”

   “Now shut it and keep walking,” Elita said. She tugged Optimus forward. “Keep going, B. We’ll go straight.”

   “The Quintessons,” Optimus had to argue.

   “If they haven’t already found our trail, then we’re far enough away for them to not notice,” Elita said. 

    Warning: Energon at 35%

   Optimus shuddered. His pede dragged noisily under him, making him realize Elita had gotten him moving again. She was talking, too, and Optimus tuned his audials back to the present.

   “No transforming,” Elita was telling B. “The dust cloud will be visible from too far away.”

   Optimus focused on lifting his pedes.

    Warning: Energon at 30%

   Internal temperature regulator failure 

   Optimus couldn’t stop shaking. When he lifted his left pede, he couldn’t move it straight. His legs ended up awkwardly crossed, and Optimus could feel himself sagging.

   “Pax!” Elita strained to hold them both upright. “Get ahold of yourself!”

   Forgetting to keep his vents shut, Optimus snorted. 

   …smoke came out of his intake.

   “How are you overheating? ” Elita demanded. “Okay, Optimus, talk to me.”

   Optimus turned his helm toward her, almost tilting them both over again. “You said to shut my vents.”

   B gave a laugh that was too loud, even for him. “Come on, Optimus, don’t bother trying to argue with Elita. You know she’ll win!”

    Warning: Energon at 25%

   Reserve power mode activated

   “El… lita,” Optimus said, each syllable creeping slowly out, “How… much… further…?”

   “We’re halfway, Optimus, just keep going,” Elita said. She wouldn’t look at Optimus. “Come on, one step at a time.”

   Optimus lifted his pede, but his processor was distracted. It was simple math, but…

   “El-lita.” Optimus strained to talk faster, knowing Elita would be able to figure out what he needed to know faster. “Twenty… five… percent.”

   Elita looked sharply at him. “What?”

   “Scrap!” B yelped, then transformed.

   Optimus stared at B’s wheeled form as he spun in a quick half-circle and sped off. Elita smacking his back strut dragged his attention back.

   “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” Elita demanded.

   Optimus was confused. “Told… me… not… to?”

   “You could’ve- never mind, can you stand on your own for a klik?” Elita asked.

   Optimus was briefly offended by the question, but then Elita slid out from under his shoulder and Optimus nearly toppled sideways. He braced his pedes and managed to regain his balance.

   Elita, looking skeptical, stepped to the side and checked the crater.

   “The patches aren’t holding,” Elita said. “And that spike is getting loose.”

   Optimus stared at Elita, unsure of what both of those added up to.

    Warning: Energon at 23%

   Optimus was fairly sure that the warning coming at smaller increments was a bad thing.

   “‘Lita,” Optimus said, “Go… ing… down…”

   “Your Energon levels aren’t going to magically rise,” Elita said critically.

   It could. It had happened before, in the Well.

   “I’m back!” exclaimed B, suddenly rolling to his pedes in front of Optimus. “Did you miss me?”

   “I’m not sure he noticed you were gone,” Elita said.

   B pouted. Optimus wanted to protest that he had noticed, but B had already moved on by the time Optimus opened his intake.

   “I found an Energon stream, it’s right this way,” B said, grabbing one of Optimus’ servos and tugging.

   Optimus automatically started to follow, but his pedes apparently didn’t get the command in time and he started to tilt forward. B jammed his shoulder against Optimus’ chassis with a yelp and Elita grabbed his arm. Between the two of them, Optimus rebalanced so he could get his pedes back under him.

   “One step at a time, Pax,” Elita said.

   Optimus had a feeling she’d been saying that a lot, but at the moment, it was good advice. He focused on dragging one pede forward at a time, trusting Elita to make sure he was at least moving in the right direction. 

   He startled when B suddenly spoke up. Somehow, though, he managed to forget B was helping alongside Elita. 

   “You’re heavy,” B complained good-naturedly when Optimus leaned hard on his shoulder. “You should lay off the Energon, Optimus.”

   Optimus snorted out steam. “Losing… it… for… last… groon… not… good… enough…?”

   B winced. “Right, uh, bad timing, huh?”

   “How do you have the processor power to keep joking, but you can’t even remember what I said for five nano-kliks?” Elita interjected. “Keep moving, Pax!”

   Optimus looked down. He’d stopped walking. Elita tugged on him again, and Optimus got his pedes moving again.

    Warning: Energon at 21%

   Emergency protocols initiated

   Well, that didn’t sound good.

   Before Optimus could figure out how to tell Elita, she pulled him to a stop. Optimus looked slowly at her.

   “Down,” Elita said, shoving on his shoulder.

   Optimus didn’t really have much choice. His legs folded beneath him, and only Elita and B kept him from hitting the ground with his faceplate.

   “Easy!” Elita hissed. “Drink, Optimus!”

   Optimus stared at her blankly. Something moved suddenly at the corner of his vision, and Optimus couldn’t react nearly fast enough before B’s hand clapped over his intake. Something dribbled into his intake, though Optimus was a lot more concerned when B leaned away to reveal his servo covered in Energon. When had B gotten hurt?

   “B!” Elita snapped.

   “It seemed like a good idea at the time!” B squeaked, retreating from her.

    Warning: Energon at 21%

   …hadn’t he already seen that warning?

   “Optimus! Pax!”

   Optimus turned his optics to her. Elita had her servos cupped in front of her, holding Energon out at him.

   Where had the Energon come from? Was Elita hurt? Or B? B had enough Energon on his chassis to be hurt…

   “See?” B said.

   “See… what?” Optimus asked slowly.

   “I’m not about to feed him,” Elita grumbled.

   “Who?” Optimus asked.

   “Put out your servos,” Elita snapped.

   Optimus slowly lifted his servos, automatically cupping them like Elita was doing. Elita dropped the Energon into his servos.

   “Drink!” Elita ordered.

   Something finally clicked in Optimus’ processor. He quickly downed the Energon in his servos, then noticed there was a narrow stream directly in front of him when he glanced back down. Bracing one servo on the ground, Optimus started scooping Energon into his intake.

   Elita sighed and said something, but Optimus didn’t pay attention to her. 

    Emergency procedures deactivated

   Reserve power mode deactivated

   Internal temperature regulators at 50%

   Energon at 40%

   Optimus sat back. He still felt off-kilter, but at least his processor was functional again. He looked over to where Elita was scanning the horizon, then around with rising alarm.

   “Where’s B?”

   Elita looked at him. “Your tanks full yet?”

   “I’m at forty percent,” Optimus admitted.

   Elita’s optics darted to the side, then back to Optimus.

   “Where’s B?” Optimus repeated.

   “He went ahead to get the patrol to help you get back,” Elita said. 

   Optimus nodded slowly. Now that he had a supply of Energon, it was a good place to wait. But he didn’t recall B leaving, and there wasn’t any sign of him in sight.

   “How long ago did he leave?” Optimus asked warily.

   “A quarter groon ago,” Elita said, turning away. “Keep drinking. I’ve spotted a couple Quintesson patrols since we stopped. We might have to take cover until B gets back with reinforcements.”

   Optimus leaned back over the Energon stream, trusting Elita to know when they’d have to move. He focused on his Energon levels, unable to believe how quickly they were falling, even with his frantic scooping. It took much too long for Optimus to realize why.

   “Elita, are the patches holding?” Optimus sat back to ask once his Energon was at sixty percent.

   “They’re only supposed to be temporary,” Elita said.

   “You’re not answering my question.”

   “They’re not holding. I told B to come straight back with more sealant, even if he has to return on his own,” Elita said.

   Ratchet was their main field medic, but his wheeled form was bulky enough to carry the smaller Autobots if they were too damaged to move and heavy enough to protect his patients on the battlefield. He was slower than half the Autobots, while B was one of the fastest.

   Optimus nodded reluctantly at the plan. He didn’t like B going so far on his own, especially if Quintesson patrols were nearby.

   Maybe it was the wrong time to be amused, but Optimus wondered how he’d gotten so protective of B in such a short amount of time. He wondered how he’d gotten to the point of distrusting B enough to think he’d turn into a Decepticon.

   “Optimus.”

   Optimus looked at Elita. “I’m just thinking.”

   “That’s been a bit dangerous for the last couple groons,” Elita said.

   Optimus raised an optical ridge. “Was that a joke?”

   Elita crossed her arms. “Would you rather hear everything you’ve done since we rescued B?” 

   “...no.”

   Optimus didn’t want to think about how many embarrassing stories Elita had of him now.

   “Then get up,” Elita said, her voice hardening. “We’ve been spotted.”

   Optimus scrambled to his pedes. He barely remembered in time to keep his right arm stationary, not that it prevented something from cracking inside him. He touched the crater while following the point of Elita’s digit.

   A trio of Quintessons were barely in view, but Optimus could already tell they were headed toward him and Elita. 

   “They’re stubborn,” Optimus said crankily.

   “Let’s go,” Elita said.

   Optimus and Elita took off. Optimus managed a few steps before he had to slow. He grabbed his right shoulder, wincing. He could feel the spike shifting with every step.

   “Optimus?”

   Optimus waved a servo at Elita. “I’m fine.”

   “You aren’t fine,” Elita said.

   Elita put Optimus’ left arm back over his shoulder. She braced Optimus so his steps were smoother and kept her servo under the spike so it wouldn’t shift.

   It was still too slow, though. Optimus knew they only had kliks before the Quintessons caught up.

    Warning: Energon at 50%

   And even if they could move fast enough to escape the Quintessons, Optimus would leak out long before they could reach the city.

   “We aren’t going to make it,” Optimus grunted.

   “Just a little further,” Elita said. She glanced at Optimus, then sharply to the side. “There. It’ll do.”

   Elita guided Optimus toward a low ridge of spikes and under the cover. 

    Warning: Energon at 40%

   “Elita, we can’t hide here,” Optimus protested. “They’ve already seen us!”

   “We’re not hiding,” Elita said, shoving Optimus further under the spikes. “You’re staying here where the Quintessons can’t reach you.”

   “Then what are…” Optimus trailed off, then protested, “You can’t fight three Quintessons by yourself!”

   Elita laughed. “Want to bet?”

   Elita started to move out from under the cover, only to drop down beside Optimus without warning. She was staring at something beyond the spikes, and Optimus craned to see over the cluster of spikes.

   And he saw… himself and Elita?

   The other him and Elita sprinted out from behind the spikes, then stopped and turned in the direction of the approaching Quintessons. Without a sound, they both transformed, then took off.

   Optimus had definitely lost too much Energon. 

   “I think I’m seeing things…” Optimus said slowly. “Unless you saw them, too.”

   “Of course I did,” Elita said as Optimus’ optics shut off.

   Optimus turned blindly in her direction. “What?”

   “Shush, the decoy won’t work if… Optimus, what’s wrong with your optics?”

   “...I’m rebooting them since I’m seeing things.”

   “You’re not!” Elita hissed. “Get your optics back on-line; we’ve got to move!”

   “Okay, okay,” Optimus said, starting to stand.

   “Wait, don’t-”

    Clang!

   Optimus sat hard, his audials ringing with the sound of metal striking metal. “What hit me?”

   “You hit yourself on our cover, scrap-helm!”

   “We interrupting something?” asked a new voice.

   “Sorry we’re late,” added B’s voice. There was the clatter of what sounded like two more bots dropping into the cover. “We had to take the long way to keep the Quintessons from seeing us. Ready to- uh, Optimus? What’s wrong with your eyes?”

   “He rebooted his optics,” Elita muttered, accompanied by the sound of spraying sealant.

   “I thought I was seeing things…” Optimus admitted sheepishly.

   “Wow, I knew my illusions were good, but I didn’t realize they were that good!”

   Optimus’ optics finally came back on-line. He looked over at Elita and B. Alongside them was another bot Optimus recognized as M-12, a former waste collector bot and current scout-in-training.

   Optimus looked between M-12 and where he’d thought he’d seen himself and Elita. He started to smile as he realized what had happened.

   M-12 had the ability to make realistic holograms. He usually used them for practical jokes, especially when he was still cogless. Granted, his pranks on Sentinel’s guards had gotten him stuck in waste collection. It hadn’t occurred to Optimus that holograms could be used as a distraction against the enemy, and was impressed with M-12’s plan.

   “That was a good idea with the holograms, M-12,” Optimus said.

   “I thought so, too!” M-12 said proudly. “Also, the name’s Mirage now.”

   Elita smacked the back of Mirage’s helm. “Show some respect for your Prime.”

   “Of course, Commander Elita!” Mirage said, clamping his arms to his sides. Swiveling on his pedes to face Optimus again, Mirage said, “Respectfully, my name is Mirage now, Prime, sire!”

   Optimus smiled while Elita threw the sealant can so it bounced off Mirage's shoulder.

    Warning: Energon at 25%

   Optimus stiffened. Apparently, turning off his optics had blocked the status alerts.

   “‘Lita…” Optimus forced out.

   “We need to get him to Energon,” Elita said, thankfully catching on instantly. 

   B checked outside. “The Quintessons are moving away now. Follow me!”

   B jumped out from their cover and started running. Optimus slowly leaned forward, trying to rise.

   “How far will your illusions last?” Elita asked Mirage while she helped Optimus up.

   “Far enough to reach where Ironhide's patrol is waiting,” Mirage said, then climbed out as well. Optimus barely heard him add, “Hopefully.”

   Optimus took one look at the spikes B and Mirage had effortlessly climbed over, then turned his faceplate toward the open side where he’d first entered. Elita helped him turn and walk out.

   B waved at them from a short distance away. 

   “There had better be Energon there,” Elita muttered.

   Optimus looked at her. She was straining under his shoulder. Why did she need Energon? Was she hurt?

   “Pax, move! ”

   Right, they were walking. Optimus stared at his pedes and forced himself to keep walking. He needed to keep walking, just focus on walking.

    Warning: Energon at 21%

   Emergency protocols initiated

   “Hey, there’s Ratchet now!” Mirage said.

   Optimus looked up. Even as slowly as he was moving, Optimus felt his balance shifting. Elita grunted, and Optimus started to look down. 

   “Keep moving!” Elita said.

   B was still waving energetically when Optimus looked back at him. A dust cloud was rising from behind him.

   Optimus stiffened. “‘Lita… look.”

   Elita glanced away, then back at him. “I’m not helping you hide from Ratchet, Optimus.”

   Optimus stared at Elita for a long klik, managing to remember to keep walking this time.

   Warning: Energon at 20%

   Emergency protocols activated

   Disabling non-essential systems

   That did not sound good. Optimus’ pedes halted. What were his “non-essential systems”? He had to tell Elita!

    Olfactory and gustatory systems deactivated

   All motor functions deactivated

   “Scra-”

   Optimus’ arms and legs went off-line. He couldn’t move them, but he felt his legs twist under him like they were rubber. Elita grabbed him, but without Optimus to help, she couldn’t stop his fall. His faceplate and right side slammed into the ground.

   Elita, B, and Mirage shouted, but Optimus still heard something snap inside him.

Chapter Text

   “No, no, B, give me more sealant!” Elita yelled.

   The status alert had remained, counting down.

   “Okay,” Elita said when the countdown read sixteen percent. Optimus didn’t know how long that had taken. “It’ll do for now. Help me turn him over.”

   Optimus briefly wondered who Elita was talking about, then felt himself wrestled onto his back. He stared up into Elita’s worried optics, then at Mirage spraying more sealant into the cavity.

   “The fall broke the spike off,” Elita explained without prompting. “Just hang on, Pax. Ratchet’s almost here.”

    Warning: Energon at 15%

   Logic protocol failure

   Backing up memory core

   “‘Lita… logic… pro… gram… down,” Optimus forced out. His intake was barely moving and Optimus could feel an ominous rattle in his voice box.

   “I don’t think we’ll be able to tell the difference,” Elita scoffed, her tone much too light for her. “Ratchet, fix him!”

   “Give me two nano-kliks to see what I’m working with,” Ratchet said.

   Optimus’ optics followed the medic as he knelt. When had he gotten there?

   “Energon at fourteen percent,” Ratchet said, staring at his datapad. “Optimus, do me a favor and stop finding creative ways to hurt yourself. B, Mirage, grab some Energon.”

   Optimus grunted. “Did… not…”

   “You got impaled, from what I’ve gathered from B’s report,” Ratchet said. He was doing something inside Optimus, when had he started that? “Argue the point all you want.”

   Optimus grumbled, wincing when his voice box grated.

   “Nobody mentioned the throat injury,” Ratchet said.

   “The spike went through his shoulder,” Elita said.

   “Got the Energon!” B exclaimed, dropping down to his knees on Optimus’ other side. “Open wide, Optimus!”

   Optimus couldn’t really respond or react, not when B promptly spilled the Energon into Optimus’ still-open intake. He rolled his optics at B, still managing to be amused at B’s solution.

    Warning: Intake compromised

   Optimus gagged. Something inside his throat clenched, then the Energon spewed out of his intake, splattering B’s face. B fell back with a yelp.

   “Pax, not the time!” Elita snapped.

   “That wasn’t intentional,” Ratchet said. He moved his datapad from the crater to Optimus’ helm. “Something’s damaged his intake. It’s blocked.”

   Optimus stared at the medic. That was… that was bad, wasn’t it?

   “How’s he supposed to refill his tanks?” B asked.

   “B, Mirage, fill this.” Ratchet smacked a large cylinder on the ground. Optimus wondered how long it had been there. “Elita, don’t take my arm off.”

   “Why would-” Elita started.

   Ratchet’s right servo folded into his arm and was replaced by a plasma blade. A plasma blade he stabbed into Optimus’ chassis. Optimus had a nano-klik to wonder if there was something wrong with that, then Elita started yelling at Ratchet.

   “Ratchet, what the frag?! ”

   Ratchet tucked a metal scrap into his belt. “I need to get a line directly into Optimus’ tanks, and this is the quickest way. B, Mirage, I need that Energon, now!”

   The pair bolted, holding a large metal cylinder.  

   Optimus forgot the question when he looked at Elita, who was glaring at Ratchet, practically steaming. Ratchet didn’t seem to notice.

   “All I did was remove armor,” Ratchet said without looking at Elita, “Now look. There’s an emergency hatch on the tank.”

   “Got the Energon!” B said as he and Mirage dropped a container of Energon beside Ratchet. “Uh, so, how-”

   “Just watch,” Ratchet said. 

   Ratchet unraveled a tube from the base of the cylinder. He attached one end to the bottom of the cylinder, then stuck the other end somewhere inside Optimus’ chassis. He couldn’t see well enough to see where, but his Energon level stopped falling at eleven percent.

   Ratchet checked his datapad. “Alright, his Energon levels are stabilized for now. Give me another ten kliks, and he’ll be ready to move.”

   “Uh, Ratchet?” Mirage said slowly. “You’ve got two.”

   Ratchet looked sharply at him. Mirage pointed at something behind Ratchet, and everyone but Optimus turned to look.

   “What…?” Optimus asked with effort.

   “Quintessons,” B said. “A lot of them. Uh, yeah, that first patrol definitely called for back-up.”

   “That or the second patrol, the one we thought Mirage had redirected, saw the Prime was hurt,” Elita said. “Why else would they bring out two ships?”

   Two ships? Even Optimus’ flagging processor saw they were in deep, deep trouble.

   “All the fighters mobilized once they heard Optimus was hurt,” Ratchet said, turning back to working inside Optimus’ broken chassis. “They’ll hold the Quintessons off.”

   “Yeah, but once the Quintessons know where the Prime is, they’ll target him,” Mirage said.

   “Unless you have anything helpful to say, go and help hold them back, then!” Elita snapped.

   Mirage smirked. “I don’t have anything to say , but I can help from here.”

   Elita launched to her pedes. Before she could take a step toward Mirage, the sky flickered. At first, Optimus thought it was his optics failing him as well, but Elita and B both looked up. The sky flickered again, then turned a deep gray all around them. Light somehow came through the solid-looking walls.

   “Your illusions!” B yelped excitedly.

   Mirage nodded. “We’ll look just like one of the pillars on the surface.”

   “Can you hold it for ten kliks?” Ratchet asked.

   “Easy,” Mirage said.

   “Right.”

   Ratchet kept working without further comment. Or maybe he did, but Optimus was distracted by the sounds of fighting gradually getting closer. Mirage was staring at one of the walls, as if he could see something nobody else could. Elita and B were hovering close to Optimus. B muttered nervously, though his words were too low and disjointed to follow.

   “This will hold for now,” Ratchet said, leaning back and shaking Energon from his servo. “Elita, B, Mirage, help me move him.”

   “You might want to rethink that plan,” Mirage said.

   “What did I say about only saying helpful things?” Elita bit out as she took up a position beside Optimus’ arm.

   “Okay, well, I’ve got good news and bad news,” Mirage said. “The good news is, we’re surrounded.”

   “By Autobots?” B asked.

   “And Quintessons,” Mirage cheerfully added.

   “And that’s the bad news?” B guessed.

   “No, still good news because the Quintessons don’t know we’re here yet,” Mirage said. He was vibrating, armor rattling. “The bad news is they’re about to find out; I can’t hold our cover much longer.”

   “Everyone, cover Optimus until we’ve got a clear path,” Ratchet said, standing.

   Optimus looked between everyone’s blasters forming on their gauntlets. They were getting ready to fight, but Optimus…

   “Oh, thank Primus!” Mirage exclaimed, breaking off Optimus’ thought. “Everyone get ready to move!”

    The walls around them vanished, revealing a broad plain full of fighting Autobots and Quintessons. And one train.

   Elita, B, and Ratchet all looked at Mirage.

   Mirage raised his servos. “It’s not one of mine.”

   The train barreled between the fighters, scattering both Autobots and Quintessons. It reached the small group and stopped, the train cars curling around them.

   “Perfect timing, Jazz!” Mirage yelled with a laugh.

   “How did Jazz- never mind,” Ratchet interrupted himself. “Come on. Ironhide, help us!”

   “Hound, you, too,” Elita said. “Arcee, Smokescreen, Dirge, help us cover them. Prowl, I need Autobot locations now .”

   Optimus was moving, but everything felt so wrong and the noise was confusing him. He forced his focus onto Elita’s words and B moving at his side, his blaster pointed at something beyond them.

   “Once Optimus is loaded, everyone pulls back,” Elita said. “There should be time for everyone to get on the train, so do it!”

   “Hold on, we’re giving up?” someone nearby asked.

   “Ratchet said every able fighter came out to fight,” Elita said.

   “Yeah, so we can win this fight!”

   “Sure, this fight,” Elita said. “But who’s guarding Iacon City right now?”

   “Uh…”

   “Exactly, now load up!”

   Optimus was laid flat again, only to be lifted so he was laying halfway on his side. Something ground in his shoulder, but B was sitting in front of Optimus watching him and Elita stood beside B, so Optimus knew he was safe.

   The grinding noise came again. Optimus shuddered and tried to turn his helm. What was going on behind him?

   “No, don’t try to move,” B said quickly, reaching out to grab Optimus’ arm. “Ratchet’s busy back there.”

   Ratchet? Optimus stared at B, taking a long klik to realize B was talking about the medic. Was Ratchet there? What was he doing? Who was hurt?

    Warning: Energon at 10%

   Tactile system failure

   The grinding sensation stopped. There were still some strange noises behind Optimus, but he felt fine.

   Or… he couldn’t feel anything.

   Optimus’ optics were sluggish as he turned them to B’s servo on his arm. He couldn’t feel the touch.

   “B… I… can’t…” Optimus struggled to continue. He could hear his voice, but he couldn’t feel his voice box moving. “Feel…”

   “Tactile system failure,” said someone Optimus couldn’t place. “He’s lost his sense of touch, that’s all. Just keep him awake.”

   “It’s fine,” B said in a frantic voice that said it wasn’t fine. “It’s okay. I’m right here, Optimus. Everything’s okay. Everyone’s safe now.”

   “We’ll be back in Iacon City soon,” Elita said, kneeling beside B.

   Iacon City… Optimus wondered when they’d left. He tried to search his memories, but there was nothing. Nothing but B and Elita in front of him.

   That was… someone was missing.

    Warning: Energon at 9%

   There were voices behind Optimus. He tried to place them, tried to figure out who was missing.

   D-16!

   Optimus tried to move, but nothing responded. His voice box grated.

   Speech synthesizer failure

   “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” B said, his voice shaking. “Everything’s fine.”

   Optimus trembled. Something was wrong, someone was missing, what was he forgetting, why couldn’t he move- 

   B kept talking, “Everyone made it onto the train just fine. Those Quintessons didn’t even have time to realize what we were doing! And Prowl’s team even took down one of the ships before we left, so the Quintessons will think twice about following us!”

   Optimus focused on B’s voice. He couldn’t follow everything B was saying, but his voice was calming to listen to all the same.

    Warning: Energon at 8%

   Auditory system failure

   Then everything went silent. Optimus had a sudden urge to move, but he couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t hear anything, what was wrong with him-

   Elita lurched forward. Optimus reflexively closed his optics. He quickly opened them again, preferring to witness Elita’s punch that he couldn’t even feel over the dark silence.

   Instead, Elita was holding his servo, linking her digits between his useless, unfeeling ones.

    Warning: Energon at 7%

   Maybe his optics were fooling him, Optimus acknowledged faintly. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

   Elita’s intake was moving. Her optical ridges were furrowed in… what, worry? What could have Elita scared? 

   If she was scared. Optimus almost wanted to ask, but Elita would probably hit him for asking.

   Optimus’ optics slid past her. He didn’t recognize the sky or pillars rushing by, and trying to focus on them made his optics twinge.

    Warning: Energon at 6% 

   Where was D-16? Optimus was aware that he was moving… D-16 should’ve been nearby. He always was.

   Unless he was mad at Optimus. Had D-16 had to bail out Optimus again?

   B leaned into his vision, reaching out. His servo hovered near Optimus’ helm, but Optimus couldn’t feel his touch. Elita was in his faceplate, looking… no, she couldn’t be scared. She was angry. She couldn’t be both. If she was mad, then…

   Optimus struggled to think, but the thoughts fell from his mind. Everything was getting dark for some reason.

   Where was D-16?

   Why was Elita so scared?

   Why was B’s servo shaking?

    Warning: Energon at 5%

   Elita and B were moving, helms turning and intakes opening. Motion blurred around them, while Optimus’ optics could focus only on them. Everything around them was getting darker.

   Elita lifted her servo, and Optimus found his digits twined between hers. B clasped his servos over both of theirs, looking up at Elita.

   Darkness pressed inward. Optimus lifted his optics. Elita and B stared back. He looked back down to their digits, all tangled together.

   Elita. B. His friends. They were here for him.

   The thought was comforting as everything grayed, then darkened to black.

    Visual system failure

   Energon at 4%

   Cognitive system failure

   Spark destabilized

   Power rerouting to spark

   Reroute successful

   Spark stabilized

   Reboot initiated

   …

   ERROR

   Reboot failure

   Energon at 3%

   Stand-by mo…

   …

   ERROR

   Memory core failure

   Energon sensor failure

   ERROR

   Spark destabilized

   ReboERROR

   …

   …

   …

   Spark stabilized

   Reboot initiated

   ERROR

   Reboot failure

   …

   …

   Energon at 0%

   ERROR

   …

   …

   Spark stabilized

   ERROR

   Essential systems failure

   …

   …

   Memory core activated

Chapter Text

   Optimus dreamed he was on the surface.

   He sat in a half-circle with D-16 and Elita. The sky was darkening while they watched B in the distance, chasing after a creature Elita had called a turbofox. He was shouting encouragement to B while D-16 and Elita argued about directions again.

   He was still Orion.

   “Why’s he chasing after that thing?” Elita asked, changing the topic. 

   “He said something about making another friend,” Orion said.

   “This ‘friend’ will rip his faceplate off if he actually manages to grab one,” Elita commented.

   Orion shrugged cheerfully. “He’s having fun. Besides, do you realize how often D punches me in the faceplate?”

   “Not the same, and you deserve it every time,” D-16 informed him.

   Then Orion was back in the sub-levels, reeling to the ground. He looked up in a daze while the guard stomped away, amusedly muttering about miners fighting each other. Orion almost didn’t notice D-16’s extended servo, even while he reached up and accepted D-16’s help to his pedes.

   “Did you have to punch me?” Orion grumbled as he rubbed his dentas. “I think you left a dent.”

   “That guard would’ve left more than a dent if I hadn’t interfered,” D-16 said, shaking his helm. “You’ve got to stop antagonizing them. What were you up to this time?”

   “Guess,” Orion said with a grin.

   D-16’s sigh was long-suffering. “Archives?”

   “Yeah! I haven’t found anything new yet…” Orion trailed off, then perked back up. “You know, searching would go a lot quicker with two sets of servos. You should come with me next time.”

   “No way, I’m staying right where I’m supposed to,” D-16 scoffed.

   “Come on.” Orion grinned conspiratorially. “I found some recordings of Megatronus Prime.”

   D-16’s resolve faltered, then he shook his head. “If I went along with you, who’d bail us out when we get caught?”

   Optimus found himself in the archives again, seated on the floor and surrounded by datasticks. 

   “I think it’s a great idea,” B said. He was crouching beside Optimus, bouncing lightly on his pedes. “But Elita doesn’t think so.”

   “I said we need a home guard,” Elita said. She was leaning against the table. “That’s all we have to call it.”

   “It was your idea to call it the Elite Guard!” B crowed.

   That… wasn’t right. Hadn’t B been trying to convince Optimus to let him train in combat while Elita argued he was too distractible in battle?

   “I didn’t say that,” Elita was saying. “Not to you, at least.”

   “I like the sound of it, though!” B said cheerfully, bouncing to his pedes and spinning around the room.

   Why wasn’t Optimus joining in? He should’ve just agreed to B’s request, then Elita should’ve been groaning about dragging B’s dead hull home within a deca-cycle.

   “Why are you asking me?” Ratchet’s voice asked, despite the medic not being present.

   Then he was Orion again. He stood at the edge of the Well with D-16, peering downward. 

   “Where do you think it goes?” Orion asked.

   “Cybertron’s spark, where else?” D-16 asked.

   “What, that old legend?” Orion scoffed. “How could a spark last that long?”

   D-16 seemed to actually take the question seriously. “The Energon runs more thickly the further into Cybertron you go.”

   “Okay, but stop making it sound like the planet’s alive,” Orion said with a shudder.

   “How do you know it’s not?” D-16 asked.

   “Because…” Orion huffed. “I don’t know, and you know it.” Orion turned to D-16, optics narrowing. “Say… I bet we could find the answer in the archives.”

   “You know cogless aren’t allowed in the archives,” D-16 said.

   “Who said we were going to ask?”

   D-16 stared at Orion for a long klik. “I think I need to get my audials checked. You didn’t just suggest sneaking into the archives, did you?”

   “Aw, come on, D!” Orion began gesturing excitedly as the idea took hold of his processor. “They’ll never even know we were there! We’ll just sneak in and-”

   Orion broke off as his pede, braced against the edge of the Well, slipped from his excited motions. He fell sideways with a shout, servos flailing.

   D-16 caught his servo and yanked Orion back onto level ground. “Orion, be careful!”

   “I’m fine,” Orion said, dusting himself off.

   “You almost weren’t!” D-16 huffed and shook his helm. “You’ve got to be more careful. What if I hadn’t been here to catch you?”

   Orion grinned. “You’ve always been there to catch me, D.”

   “And you probably think I always will be,” D-16 said. He was smiling.

   Then his smile was gone. His eyes glared red. His servo was locked around Orion’s, holding him from falling into the Well.

   “I’m done saving you,” D-16 snarled.

   And then he let go.

   And Orion fell.

   But Orion wasn’t watching D-16 as he felt himself falling. His optics turned aside to the gathered miners struggling through the soldiers and High Guard. But most importantly, to Elita and B racing to the edge.

   Orion saw B grind to a halt, his optics wide with horror. He flung out a servo, latching onto Elita as if to prevent her from jumping after Orion. His pedes skittered on the edge as Elita fought him, both of them shouting out for Orion.

   He saw the horror shift. Saw them spin away from the well and turn their fury on D-16.

   Everything went dark before Optimus had to watch his friends fight. 

   Voices gradually filtered into the darkness, though no images accompanied them.

   “Ironhide, Prowl, and Chromia have already agreed,” Elita was saying. “I want you leading a squad as well.”

   “Me? Uh, sure, I can do that,” Jazz said.

   “Jazz, I’m being serious.”

   “I am, too! I’m happy to help, but, well… me? You’re sure?” Jazz sounded excited despite his objections. “I thought you’d pick, I don’t know, Ultra Magnus. I’ve seen him take out a squad of Quintessons.”

   “I’m talking to him next,” Elita said, already sounding annoyed at the prospect.

   “Feel free to take your meeting somewhere else,” Ratchet’s voice suddenly chimed in.

   “Come on, Ratchet, it’s convenient,” Elita argued.

   “You’re disturbing my patients.”

   “Everyone I need to talk to is in the repair bay.”

   “My point exactly,” Ratchet dead-panned. “Now get out. Yes, even you, B. I’ll tell you if there’s any change.”

   “When are you releasing Prowl?” Elita asked.

   “Why?” Ratchet sounded suspicious.

   “The Captains are going to be picking their squads once Prowl’s on his pedes.” 

   “He’ll be cleared tomorrow, unless he sneaks out again.”

   “Hey!” shouted Prowl’s voice.

   “Prowl, if you don’t get back into your berth right now I’m going to-”

   A door slammed before Ratchet could finish his threat.

   The conversations came in snatches, all words and no images. Conversations Optimus hadn’t been a part of, and yet…

   “Can he hear us?” B asked.

   “I don’t know,” Ratchet said. 

   “Because his spark’s active,” B said, “You repaired all his fuel lines and Energon is flowing like it should and he’s not leaking or sparking anymore and-”

   “B.”

   “Right, right, I can stay as long as I keep quiet.”

   “...actually.”

   “Don’t say it,” Elita said.

   “Optimus is the only bot who puts up with B’s incessant talk, you’ve seen it,” Ratchet said.

   “Ratchet’s got a point,” B said.

   “You could at least pretend to be offended,” Elita said.

   “But it’s true!”

   “With that in mind,” Ratchet said forcefully, “B, keep talking to him.”

   There was a moment of silence.

   “Did you just-”

   “I did,” Ratchet interrupted Elita. “What are you waiting for, B?”

   “Wait, for real? I can?”

   “As long as you keep the door closed anytime you’re in here so you don’t annoy everyone on the floor,” Ratchet said.

   “Okay, so that means I can tell Optimus about training today, because Hound agreed to train me and Mirage as scouts, real scouts! Hound says I’ve got a knack for scouting even if running off by myself doesn’t count as scouting-”

   They were talking to Optimus.

   But he didn’t know how to respond.

   “Mirage got in trouble today with his illusions again. I thought it was funny when he made another Elita standing behind her. He probably should’ve done it to anyone but Elita, though. He’s done Hound a dozen times, and Hound just thinks it’s funny. Elita says Hound shouldn’t encourage him.”

   “Hey, are you telling on me to the Prime?” Mirage asked.

   “Trust me, Optimus would think it was funny, too. Actually, he might even want to borrow an illusion if Elita’s mad at him.”

   “...huh, I really should’ve made a fake me so I could escape Elita.”

   “Oh, scrap, I forgot I had patrol this morning! Bye, Optimus! Bye, Elita!”

   The long silence was eventually broken by Elita’s voice.

   “I don’t know why he’s so worried. Hound’s too soft on his mentees. He keeps them from getting hurt, at least. For the most part. He’s convinced B to start working on using his blasters more often so he’s not getting so close to the Quintessons.”

   Funny. Elita could talk as much as B sometimes.

   B liked to pace while he talked. 

   “I still don’t get why I can’t have wings when I transform. Hound said it’s probably better that I keep my pedes on the ground, anyway. Still, flying!”

   B spun in a circle on one pede. His plasma blades were out, somehow not slicing into any walls or furniture in the small room.

   “Windblade’s going to be on our squad, Hound said. Elita wants a flier with all the scouting squads. She said a flier can get back to Iacon City faster than wheels, but I’m going to prove her wrong somehow!”

   The door opened and Ratchet entered. He scowled at B.

   “B, what did I say about-” Ratchet broke off, staring past B. “What did you do?”

   “I closed the door!” B defended himself, spinning to face the medic. He glanced between his blades, then hid his servos behind his back. “And I definitely wasn’t practicing in the repair ward again, because you said you’d dismantle my knives if I did!”

   “B, shut it,” Ratchet said, still not looking right at B. 

   “Shutting it,” B said. He was quiet for three whole nano-kliks. “Seriously, Ratchet, what did I do?”

   “What did you-” Ratchet looked back-and-forth. “B, look.”

   “Look at what?” B turned in a full circle. “Ratchet, I don’t ge-”

   B froze mid-word. He spun back around, staring at…

   “Optimus!” B squealed. “You’re awake!”

   “I can’t believe it worked,” Ratchet muttered, shaking his helm. 

   “I don’t know,” B said with a frown. “Optimus? Hello? Can you hear me?”

   Ratchet focused on his datapad, but still said, “Just keep talking to him, B.”

   “I’m starting to think Ratchet’s been replaced,” B said in a conspiratorial whisper. “He keeps telling me to talk to you. First time for everything.”

   “Ratchet!” Elita yelled, skidding into view of the doorway.

   “Stop yelling in the repair ward, Elita,” Ratchet said.

   “You said Optimus opened his optics,” Elita said fiercely.

   Ratchet pointed silently.

   …at Optimus . It was the first time Optimus had seen the others talking to him.

   “Are you seeing this, Elita?” B asked, hopping from pede to pede. “Optimus is awake! Still not talking, but this is an improvement, Optimus! Oh! Is it because I was talking to you? Should I keep talking? How much longer do you want me to talk so you can start talking back? Come on, Optimus, say something! The stare is getting a little creepy.”

   B turned around. “And so’s the fact that neither of you are telling me to stop talking. Seriously, who are you two, and what have you done with Elita and Ratchet?”

   “It… worked,” Ratchet said slowly. He almost looked pained. “Just keep… talking, B.”

   B took the suggestion seriously. Rubbing oil into Optimus’ joints, he chattered incessantly.

   “I’m getting faster, Optimus! I lapped Iacon City half a nano-klick faster than yesterday! Windblade is still saying I’ll never beat her in a race, but just watch, wheels will beat wings any day!”

   Elita, watching from the door, was starting to look amused by B’s rambling. 

   “Hound wants to take Mirage and me on a long patrol sweep.” B’s servos slowed. “We’d be gone for two solar cycles, though. I don’t know if I can be away from Iacon City for so long. Who else would keep you company if I was gone?”

   “Me, Ratchet, any of the other medics,” Elita said drily.

   B startled and spun around. “How long have you been standing there, Elita?”

   “Not long. Hound’s looking for you,” Elita said.

   “Oh, uh… I changed my mind, Elita, I don’t want to go on patrol,” B said.

   “Tough. You’re going.”

   “Elita, how can I leave Optimus when he’s like this? He’s going to wake up any klik now, I can feel it in my spark!”

   “B.” Elita sighed. “You’ve been saying that for the last orbital cycle.”

   “But… his optics are open!” B protested.

   “They’ve been active for the last five solar cycles, yes, but nothing else has changed. Ratchet still hasn’t found any signs of activity in his cognitive system.”

   “Can’t you have a little faith in Optimus?” B asked sharply.

   “You and Optimus are the optimistic ones. I’m a realist,” Elita said.

   “Uh-huh.” B crossed his arms. “Then why are you here every solar cycle?”

   “Someone has to make sure you don’t talk Optimus’ audials off,” Elita said gruffly.

   “Aw, Elita, you don’t have to pretend to be so tough. It’s just me and Optimus here,” B said.

   “I’m not pretending anything,” Elita said.

   “Okay, okay…” B turned back around. “I just know he’s going to be fine. Optimus is strong. He’s got the Matrix of Leadership, for Primus’ sake!”

   “That doesn’t make him invincible, you know.”

   “Positive thoughts, Elita, remember? Positive thoughts! It’s okay if they’re hard for you. I’ll teach you!”

   “Be serious, B,” Elita said.

   “That’s impossible! You could stand to learn some from me.” 

   B’s earlier intensity was gone. He bounced from pede to pede, and he was grinning when he turned back to rubbing oil.

   “B.”

   B again paused his work. “Yeah?”

   “Go on patrol with Hound and Mirage. I’ll keep Optimus company while you’re gone.”

   B looked over at Elita, then back at Optimus. His optics went to the floor. 

   “I can’t. It’s… it’s my fault this happened.”

   Elita didn’t comment.

   “If I hadn’t run off, then Optimus wouldn’t have had to come get me, and then he wouldn’t have gotten hurt and…” B’s digits clenched around the rag. 

   “So, you’re doing this out of guilt.”

   B spun on Elita. “No, I’m doing it because he’s my friend! My first real friend in my whole life, Elita! I messed up! You know I talk all solar cycle, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to Optimus, my best friend! And now look!”

   B flung a servo out to gesture at Optimus. “I’ve messed up plenty in my life. A bot doesn’t just end up on Sub-Level Fifty without messing up a lot . And now I’m afraid… I’m afraid this is going to be a mess-up I can’t fix.”

   “For the record, Ratchet’s the only one who can fix Optimus,” Elita said.

   “I know!” B kicked the floor. “I just… I don’t know anything else to do.”

   Elita was quiet for a long klik. Then, “I’ll let Hound know you’re staying here.”

   B looked at her. “I thought you were making me go.”

   “You’d be distracted and useless if you went on patrol now,” Elita said. “A Quintesson ship could land on your head, and you wouldn’t notice.”

   B winced. 

   “But you’re a good friend to him, no matter what the scrap-helm thinks,” Elita said. 

   “He didn’t mean it,” B said. “He’s just figuring things out.”

   “So are all of us,” Elita said. “We’re all going to make mistakes, B.”

   “Even you?” B asked mischievously. 

   Elita’s comm blipped, keeping her from responding.

   “Commander, come in!”

   “I’m here, Hound,” Elita said into her comm. “B’s going to stay in Iacon City.”

   “It’s not that, Commander. Windblade just spotted Decepticons heading this way.”

   Elita and B stiffened. The chamber seemed to blur and darken, but Elita’s words still came through clearly.

   “Call the Captains and have them take their squads to the surface. All non-fighters are to go to Sub-Level Two while we deal with the Decepticons. Until I get there, you’re in charge of the home guard.” Elita looked at B. “Wait here with Optimus.”

   B glanced toward Optimus, pulled his shoulders back, then turned back to Elita. “I’m going with you.”

   “We just discussed this,” Elita said.

   “I know.” B tossed the rag aside and turned to grab Optimus’ servos. “I can’t fix you, but I can make sure the Decepticons don’t step one pede in Iacon City. You don’t have anything to worry about, Optimus. It’s all going to be okay.”

   The chamber came back into focus. B sighed, then his battle mask dropped over his face. He turned and ran from the chamber with Elita.

   For perhaps the first time, Optimus was left alone. Alone with the knowledge that Decepticons were coming to Iacon City. 

   …somehow, he wasn’t worried.

   Elita wasn’t the Autobot Commander for no reason, and B was a master combatant in his own right. Plus, they had the whole force of Autobot soldiers behind them. If Elita and B said no Decepticons would be getting into the city, he believed them.

   “Optimus?”

   Optimus hadn’t heard Ratchet enter the chamber. He hadn’t seen the medic, either. Everything had gotten so dark…

   “Optimus!”

    …

   Reboot initiated

   …

   …

   Cognitive system rebooting

   Essential systems rebooting

   Non-essential systems rebooting

   …

   …

   “-long has he been like this?” Elita was asking when Optimus’ audials turned back on.

   “Not long after you left,” Ratchet answered.

   “What changed?” B asked nervously. 

   “I haven’t had time to run the scans,” Ratchet said.

   “I told him everything would be fine once- oh!”

   Optimus’ optics activated. B was bouncing in place, a worried smile on his intake as he stared up at Optimus. He was holding his right arm, which had a recently welded gash in the armor and cables. Elita, standing close behind B, was blackened by soot. She had a half-dozen dents in her armor and dried sealant was flaking from an exposed fuel line on her shoulder. Ratchet was holding his welder, but he was watching Optimus with B and Elita.

   “Maybe he got bored when he was left alone and turned off his optics,” B said.

   “B,” Ratchet said tiredly, “Optimus’ cognitive systems are still off-line. He can’t choose to do anything. Elita, sit down while I fix this.”

   Amazingly, Elita didn’t argue. She sat on the table, her optics not leaving Optimus while Ratchet got to work.

   “His optics have stayed on for five solar cycles, Ratchet,” B said.

   Ratchet, hunched over his work, said, “I’m aware.”

   “If they turned off now… Ratchet, what’s that mean?” 

   “Probably nothing,” Ratchet said. “I told you he’s not doing anything cognitively. His optics are lit up because a stray bit of power is going to them, that’s all.”

   B stared morosely at Optimus, then he squared his shoulders. “Well, I don’t know how or why his optics are doing that-”

   “I just told you.”

   “-but his optics first turned on when I was talking to him, and they turned off when I left. So, I’m going to stay here and keep talking!”

   Elita and Ratchet exchanged a skeptical look, but neither argued.

   “You can stay as long as you rest that arm,” Ratchet said as he finished up on Elita. “Elita, I expect you’ll be staying here?”

   “Hound offered to make sure the home guard all get rest and Jazz took the undamaged bots in his squad to patrol the city,” Elita said. “I’m staying with B and Optimus.”

   “Then it’s the same rules as B. Get some Energon, then rest. No talking all lunar cycle, B. I’ll be back to run scans on Optimus once everyone else is patched up,” Ratchet said, then gathered his tools and left, closing the door behind him.

   “Permission to talk your audials off, Elita?” B asked with a grin. He was back to his usual self again.

   “As if you’d listen if I told you no,” Elita said.

   “You’re right,” B said. He spun back to Optimus. “You wouldn’t believe it, Optimus! I was facing a Decepticon twice my size, my blaster was busted, and the Decepticon was about to smash me flat, but pow! I gave him my mighty snap kick and knocked his battle mask clear off!”

   “Didn’t Hound tell you to stop getting so close when you’re fighting?” Elita interrupted.

   “My blaster was busted!”

   “Which it wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t tackled Soundwave.”

   “Come on, he would’ve gotten more than your shoulder if I hadn’t jumped him.”

   Elita rolled her optics.

   “Oh, Elita, look!” B said, bouncing excitedly. “Look, Optimus is smiling!”

   Elita lurched forward a step. Optimus ached to speak to his friends, to thank them for protecting the city, but his voice box was still off-line and his intake wouldn’t move more than the fraction he’d already managed.

   “A stray spark,” Elita muttered, looking away. “Like Ratchet said.”

   “Ratchet also said he might be able to hear us,” B pointed out.

   “Doesn’t make any difference if…” Elita trailed off, then gave Optimus a hard look. “If you can hear us, hurry up and wake up already. I’m getting tired of being in charge of all the Captains.”

   “Wouldn’t you still be in charge with Optimus?” B asked.

   “I chose the Captains for a reason,” Elita said. She shifted. “Don’t tell them yet, but when Optimus is back on his pedes, if he doesn’t want me to be Commander anymore, I won’t.”

   “But… you can’t not be the Commander!” B protested.

   “I can’t be Commander if the Prime doesn’t trust me, B,” Elita said.

   Optimus tried to speak, but his voice box was still off-line. He could only watch helplessly.

   “Well,” B said after a klik of silence, “Until then, I think you’re doing a great job. Just look at today’s fight! No Decepticons got into the city, and nobody got badly hurt!”

   Elita didn’t respond to the praise. It was so out of character for her that Optimus briefly wondered how much Energon she’d lost in the fight.

   Then he remembered it was his fault.

   Wincing inwardly, Optimus tried to force his voice box back on-line. This didn’t work of course, so the silence stretched on. 

   B endured the silence for an impressive ten nano-kliks, at which point he burst out, “I’m going to find some Energon! I’ll be right back!”

   B sprinted from the room, moving so fast that he crashed into Cogs, one of the junior medics. Both staggered in opposite directions, and Cogs’ armload of tools clattered to the floor.

   “Sorry, Cogs!” B shouted over his shoulder as he beat a hasty retreat from the medic.

   “B, how many times do we have to tell you to stop running and yelling in the repair ward?!” Cogs yelled as she ran after him.

   Elita calmly shut the door, cutting off B’s frantic yelps. She shook her helm, only smiling because she thought nobody could see her amusement.

   “Cogs keeps saying she’s going to weld B’s pedes to the floor when she catches him,” Elita said. “I’m pretty sure she’s only joking.”

   Optimus waited for her to say more, but Elita fell into silence. She opened a cabinet and searched around until she found a file. She sat on the table and started filing down a lump in the welding line on her shoulder until it was smooth.

   B burst back into the room then, carrying a crate. He quickly shoved the door closed behind him, grinning cheerfully.

   “Did Cogs catch you?” Elita asked.

   “Nope, I was too fast,” B bragged as he set the crate on the table. “Also Ratchet grabbed us both and made Cogs go back to her patients. Ratchet said if either of us leave this room, he’s locking us in our berths.”

   “Why am I getting punished?” Elita asked.

   “You won’t, as long as we both stay put!” B said cheerfully. 

   Elita shook her head and grabbed her datapad. “I need to check with the Captains.”

   “Jazz found this,” B said, pulling a cracked shoulder plate from the crate. “Ratchet said it should still be salvageable. He lent me a welder and told me to make sure you ate, so here!”

   B dumped a pile of Energon cubes on the table. Optimus wondered if it had come from Ratchet’s stores or one of the stashes B had all over Iacon.

   “Busy,” Elita said, studying her broken armor.

   B reached for the armor, but Elita shoved him hard enough that B toppled over backward. B huffed at Elita, then he grinned.

   “I’ll tell Ratchet you’re not eating!” B threatened.

   Elita scowled at B, but picked up a cube all the same. B grinned as he rolled to his pedes. He grabbed the file and got to work on his own repairs, chattering away.

   “I’m going to have to find some paint later to cover this. Maybe I should try a new color. What do you think, Elita?” B didn’t wait for an answer, not that Elita looked about to give him one. “I’m thinking red. Cliffjumper says that’s a fast color.”

   Elita put down the armor. “What’s that even mean?”

   B shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot! Hey, Elita, as long as we’re going to be stuck in here all day, we should be comfortable, right?”

   B put aside the file and opened up another cabinet. He threw out a pile of cushions.

   B was, in short, obsessed with cushions. As a former cogless miner bot who spent a lot of time in the lower levels, Optimus was used to sleeping directly on the floor if his berth wasn’t available. But B was definitely used to sleeping in even worse places, so once B had discovered cushions, he’d somehow collected enough of them to cover the floor of his chamber. Optimus knew that because he’d found B asleep on the cushioned floor often enough. Given how much B moved in his sleep, the cushions had probably saved him from a lot of dents.

   “I swear, every time you open that cabinet, the cushions have multiplied,” Elita said, staring at the cabinet like she expected it to take a bite out of B.

   “Oh, they do,” B said, throwing out a couple more cushions. “I’m starting to think the other scouts are pranking me, but jokes on them because now we’ve got the most comfortable berth in all of Iacon!”

   “You mean you do,” Elita said, remaining stubbornly on the table.

   “Come on, Elita,” B said, trying to grab Elita’s broken armor again. “Would it kill you to relax just once? And before you say that relaxing could get someone killed, that only applies to the surface! Not to the repair ward, because Ratchet’s definitely going to make sure nobody bothers us, I’m pretty sure if Meg- Starscream himself came marching into the repair ward, Ratchet would lock him in a berth and threaten him with a welder until he joined the Autobots. Then again, I don’t know if that would be a good idea, because I’m pretty sure Starscream wants all three of us dead.”

   Elita silently slid off the table and sat on the cushions, leaning against the wall. Optimus was pretty sure she only caved to pause B’s rambling argument.

   “There, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” B asked with a level of smugness that was generally unhealthy to have around Elita. “So much more comfortable than the table since someone got rid of the chairs because she thought meetings were more efficient standing up.”

   Elita threw a screwdriver at B. His dodge wasn’t fast enough, and it bounced off his shoulder. B just grinned at Elita, then plopped down on the cushions as well -safely out of reach- and kept filing. And talking, changing topics as easily as ever.

   “Mirage said that the next time we’re on the surface, he’ll help me catch a turbofox. We’ll keep it in his chamber, and we’re going to tame it and teach it to fetch tools and Energon cubes for us! I think they’d be helpful during scouting, too. Hound says turbofoxes have a powerful sense of smell, and he agrees they’re smart enough to train, and that we could probably use a turbofox to carry messages between the two of us if comms are too risky. Or to fetch Mirage when he sleeps in again.”

   B kept chattering on about the things he and Mirage were going to do with their future pet, including the lengthy debate over what to name it.

   “Mirage likes ‘Turbo,’ because that’s what it is, but that’s so boring,” B said after roughly five kliks of discussing the “pros and cons” of the various names that had been rejected, “But I like ‘Quintripper’ best, because Hound also said Turbofoxes can do a lot of damage to a Quintesson if they got the chance, and mission successful!”

   Optimus was caught off-guard by B’s sudden silence. B turned and “winked” at Optimus in his own unique way, shutting both optics with an exaggerated nod.

   For a nano-klik, Optimus thought B knew he was awake. But then B nodded his helm in Elita’s direction. Optimus focused on her, realizing her repaired armor and tools were laying on the cushion beside her. Her helm was tilted to the side, her optics closed.

   “Ratchet said Elita’s getting as bad as you about not sleeping,” B confided in Optimus. “But he said he’d make sure nobody disturbed us.”

   Considering how often B was keeping Optimus company, Optimus was convinced B wasn’t sleeping, either. Especially when B continued talking about turbofoxes for another five minutes before slowly sagging sideways until he was flat on the cushions. Not that this stopped his talking, of course.

   “Yellow turbofox would be best, but Mirage wants a blue one… blue’s a terrible color, except for Energon and the blue lights on Sub-Level Forty-Eight and Mirage and….”

   B went for a full ten kliks of listing blue objects and bots from around Iacon City. He started kicking one pede halfway through, then rolled onto his chassis by the end, pedes still kicking.

    Motor systems on-line 

   Of course. Optimus lifted a hand automatically in frustration at his systems’ poor timing, then had to grab the edge of the berth when the slight motion rocked his body forward. The clank caused B to still, but his muffled ramblings still rose from the cushions.

   Optimus tentatively stepped from the berth, the supports giving soft hisses as they released. For the first time since he’d been injured, he looked down at himself.

   All of his armor had been repaired and repainted, so Optimus couldn’t tell he’d ever been damaged. While he hadn’t witnessed the repairs, Optimus had a pretty good idea on who’d done them.

   Optimus took another slow step. His legs might’ve been on-line, but they felt uncalibrated. He managed to walk to the table with minimal issues, but the short passage had taken so much concentration that Optimus already felt drained.

   Optimus leaned against the table, then looked at the pair asleep on the floor. He almost woke them up, but with his voice box still rebooting. Optimus found himself changing his mind. Besides, he was still tired, despite the last orbital cycle off-line.

   Optimus glanced at the empty berth, then at the pair again. He grinned as he maneuvered through the cushions. Using the wall for support, Optimus slid down so he was sitting between them.

   “Who’s there?” B mumbled as he lifted his helm.

   Optimus lifted his servo, but B’s optics were still off. He clumsily crawled forward until his servos hit Optimus’ leg, at which point he collapsed. Optimus laughed silently as he checked Elita, but she’d somehow not woken, either.

   Optimus was content to sit still while B rambled, muttered, and drawled through the lunar cycle. B turned so his legs were across Optimus’ then shuffled up so his helm bumped Optimus’ knee, then rolled over and pressed his back strut against Optimus. On Optimus’ other side, Elita ever so slowly leaned further and further to the side, until she was leaning against Optimus’ shoulder armor.

   Optimus grinned but didn’t move, wary of waking either bot. Gradually, more of Optimus’ systems came on-line while he waited.

   “What. The. FRAG?!”

   Optimus came awake at Ratchet’s furious voice. He felt B launch himself off of where he’d been draped across the cushions covering Optimus’ knees, and Elita sit up. He opened his optics.

   Ratchet was steaming mad as he glared between B and Elita. Neither of them, focused as they were on the medic, noticed Optimus sitting between them. Ratchet didn’t react to Optimus, which confused Optimus until Ratchet started talking again.

   “Have your processors failed you both completely?! Optimus is in no condition to be-” Ratchet broke off with a choke.

   Optimus, in a spurt of insane amusement that he was blaming on the boredom of an orbital cycle immobile, had lifted a digit to his intake in a gesture for silence.

   “What?” B shook his helm, not sounding very awake. “What do you mean? You said it was fine if I talked to him, as long as I closed the door, Ratchet.”

   Elita lurched to her pedes, peering past Ratchet at the empty berth. “Ratchet, where’s Optimus?!”

   Optimus moved a servo closer to Elita, then changed his mind. He’d rather keep his servo attached. Instead, he leaned forward so he could tap B’s shoulder.

   “What, Elita?” B glanced over his shoulder at the same time as Elita, then his gaze went back to Ratchet, saying distractedly, “Hey, Optimus. Ratchet, what did you do with Optimus?”

   “Optimus?!” Elita yelled.

   B turned again, saying as he gestured, “Yes, Optimus, about yeh high, armor’s painted red and blue and- holy Primus, who put Optimus on the floor?! ”

   “He’s between you two glitches!” Ratchet said.

   Optimus’ voice box rumbled with a laugh. It felt amazing after so long of being trapped in silence. 

   “Don’t take it out on them, Ratchet,” Optimus said, his voice coming slow and thick as his voice box recalibrated. “They were asleep.”

   “How long have you been awake?!” Elita demanded.

   “Not very-” Optimus grunted as B tackle-hugged. He happily wrapped his arms around B as he finished, “Not very long. Not mobile, anyway. And my voice box was off-line until recently.”

   “Still should’ve woken us,” B grumbled.

   Elita just stared at Optimus. Her silence was terrifying, frankly. Especially since he wouldn’t blame her for hitting him.

   “You shouldn’t have gotten out of the berth,” Ratchet said. “I need to get scans done.”

   “Right,” Elita said, her voice flat. “B, come on.”

   B flinched. His arms started to retract.

   Optimus looked between Elita’s hard expression and B’s shoulders inching up toward his audials. He hugged B tighter before he could slip free.

   “Actually, Ratchet, I need to talk to Elita and B first,” Optimus said.

   “Now?” Ratchet said, his voice telling Optimus he should say no.

   “Now,” Optimus said firmly.

   Optimus wondered if Ratchet would make him regret defying him, but he couldn’t let Elita or B leave yet. There were too many things he needed to say, and Optimus worried that if he didn’t say them as soon as possible, then he’d fall into the same trap as before.

   Ratchet was quiet for a long klik, then he nodded grudgingly. “Fine. I’ll be in the hall so you don’t sneak off.”

   Ratchet left. Elita looked away. For a nano-klik, Optimus thought she’d follow Ratchet.

   “Elita, B, I’m so sorry,” Optimus said.

   B startled. Optimus let him pull himself back.

   “What’re you apologizing for?” B asked. “It’s my fault you were out there, and I wasn’t fast enough during the fight-”

   Optimus yanked him back into a hug. “No, B, no! Everything that happened out there was my fault. Both of you,” Optimus said, looking between the two of them. “I’m so sorry. You both have been unerringly loyal, and I threw that in your faces.”

   “Elita, you’re my Commander for so many reasons. You know things I don’t, you can do things I can’t do, you see things I don’t, and you don’t hesitate to tell me all of those things. I need you to be my Commander, Elita, and if I ever start thinking otherwise again, I want you to knock some sense into me.”

   “And, B, you’re the best friend any bot could have, never let anyone tell you any different. You’re nothing but joy and light, and I want you by my side when I start taking things too seriously. You’re an amazing scout, B, you proved it on the surface, and you’ve been proving it since.”

   Optimus made himself release B, in case he needed some space. But B didn’t budge.

   “I can’t say I’m sorry enough,” Optimus sighed.

   “Apology accepted!” B said happily.

   Optimus chuckled. “B, if I ever start to doubt you again, just sic Ratchet on me.”

   Optimus warily looked at Elita. She had her helm lowered. While Optimus could see her faceplate, her expression was unreadable.

   “I want you to be my Commander, Elita,” Optimus said softly. He grinned. “And I know you want to keep bossing the Captains around.”

   This finally got Elita’s attention. “How do you know about the Captains?”

   “I couldn’t move, but I was hearing and seeing a lot,” Optimus said. “And I think the Captains are a great idea! Trying to run Iacon all by myself… yeah, that back-fired.”

   “I’ll say,” Elita snorted. “If you’re being serious-”

   “I am!” Optimus persisted.

   “Then I’ll stay as your Commander,” Elita said. 

   “And I’ll be your personal scout!” B said happily, his grip still not loosening.

   “I don’t think that’s a-” Elita started.

   “Agreed, B,” Optimus said, patting B’s helm. “You’re my personal scout from now on.”

   Optimus looked between his two friends, smiling. He wondered yet again what had gotten into him, thinking either of them would ever betray him.

   “Just one thing, Optimus,” Elita said.

   Optimus looked at her. “Yeah?”

   “So, you knew about the Captains because you could… hear things,” Elita said.

   Optimus nodded. “And when my optics activated, I could see.”

   “Okay, yeah, but before that,” Elita said, waving a servo, “How much did you hear?”

   Optimus shrugged, a little confused by the question. Then he had a sudden thought. He tried to convince himself to not say it and to not smile, failing at both.

   “Optimus, what’s with the look?” Elita asked warily.

   “What?” B leaned back and looked between them, grinning. “What did you say when you thought Optimus couldn’t hear?”

   “I agree with B,” Optimus said, forcing himself to be serious. Elita would never believe him if he laughed. “We should call the home guard the Elite Guard.”

   B gaped at Optimus, then laughed triumphantly. “Two against one!”

   “And Elita never actually voted no,” Optimus pointed out. “I think it’s unanimous.”

   “I hate you both,” Elita said flatly.

   “No, you don’t!” B chirped cheerfully.

   Elita rolled her optics at them both. “If you’re both done being ridiculous, I’ll go get Ratchet.”

   “Okay, okay,” Optimus said, taking pity on her. “B, help me to my pedes. My pistons are still a little stiff.”

   “Optimus.”

   Optimus, halfway to his pedes, looked up at Elita’s voice. 

   “For the record,” Elita said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

   Elita held out a servo, which Optimus gratefully accepted. With B and Elita’s help, Optimus was soon on his feet. B stayed tucked under Optimus’ arm. Elita didn’t immediately move away, letting Optimus’ servo rest on her shoulder.

   Optimus smiled at them both. “Thank you, my friends. For everything.”