Chapter Text
“You, what do you own, the world?
How do you own disorder? Disorder
Now somewhere between the sacred silence
Sacred silence and sleep
Somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep
Disorder, disorder, disorder”
— Toxicity by System of a Down
The dark was pressing in all around Optimus, a thick sludge that weighed on him like a rockfall, heavy and suffocating. You would assume it would be quiet here, in this strange, suspended place—but it was deafening. Sharp, wild roars, static, and frantic voices filled his audials, but as much as he wanted to press his servos to his crying audials, the liquid would not allow it. Every time he tried to pull his limbs in, the dark pulled them back out, forcing him to listen to every noise, hear every scream, his chassis weighed down by what he knew he had to be doing in the real world.
The soft, young voice of a boy would sometimes cut through, calling, begging him to transform, to run, to stop whatever destruction he was causing. When this happened, it was like the sludge thinned into something more like water, allowing him a brief glance at the world and his actions—but he just couldn’t reach the surface. His heavy metal body sank him lower and lower, no matter how hard he tried to swim upwards, until the voice faded and he was once again alone in darkness.
Optimus snapped his optics open, his intake quicker than normal, relaxing only when he identified the roof of his small room at the base. The nightmare—or memory, more like it—while it was most definitely not pleasant, didn’t hurt as much as it once had. He had seen and felt the memory over and over, waiting in the shadows to drag him back.
Optimus snapped his optics open, his intake quicker than normal, relaxing only when he identified the roof of his small room at the base. The nightmare—or memory, more like it—while it was most definitely not pleasant, didn’t hurt as much as it once had. He had seen and felt the memory over and over, waiting in the shadows to drag him back.
He shifted his weight, sitting up on his berth and performing a quick stretch, checking his internal systems for the Earth time. It read 05:42, a bit earlier than he should be awake, but not so early as to get too much of a talking-to from the medic. Ratchet, while being the best medic (and the one Optimus most trusted) he had ever met, was often a bit… stubborn surrounding certain issues, including how much stasis the bots got, even while continuing to get less than them. This thought would make the stoic bot chuckle, but that was not the place of a Prime.
As he walked towards the main section of the base, he wasn’t surprised to see Ratchet standing at his post, working through some document, grumbling slightly to himself. He turned when he heard Optimus approaching, a flicker of annoyance flashing through his blue optics before opening his intake to speak.
“Good morning, Optimus. It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
He turned back to face the green screen, his servos continuing to fly over the keyboard. His tone, while certainly disapproving, also had the tiniest hint of humour that the Prime had learned to search for in his friend’s speech over the years.
“I could say the same to you, old friend,” he responded, moving towards the other screen, already starting to think about today’s patrols. There had been more Decepticon activity around one section… Section 7B, if he was correct. He went to confirm the location as Ratchet started to speak.
“So, why are you up at this time?” His voice was still gruff, but he struggled to hide the concern laced within it. For others, it would be almost impossible to pick up, but Optimus had known him long enough to hear it clearly.
“I merely woke up at an unusually early hour this morning,” he replied, glancing toward his friend. “And I am only missing out on thirty-three minutes of stasis. I will be okay.”
“Yes, but you also stayed up late last night working,” Ratchet said.
“Indeed, I was, Ratchet. Thank you for reminding me.”
A rare hint of sarcasm slipped through—reserved only for close friends.
“I’m just concerned about your stasis cycle. You seem determined to deprive yourself of rest these last few days. This—this doesn’t have anything to do with your… new form, does it?”
Optimus paused. He wanted to deny it, but the truth lingered uncomfortably close. During the first night back at the base, he had missed much of his stasis due to the suffocating memory that clung to him the moment his optics powered down. Ratchet had lectured him then, forcing an extra recharge.
Had he continued avoiding rest without realising?
“Optimus, if you’re still struggling to recharge, you know you can come talk to me, right?”
“I… of course, old friend.”
He turned back to his work, signalling the end of the conversation. Ratchet lingered a moment longer before giving a grunt and returning to his own tasks.
Optimus wouldn’t allow himself to injure any more humans or bots alike in this reptilian form, although he had been lucky to avoid injuring anyone during his rampages with the Rescue Bots. He was truly grateful for their help. When he arrived home, he had been forced to tell Ratchet about his condition, who immediately noticed something was amiss, mainly due to some slight changes in his appearance due to the extra form. Whilst he couldn’t tell the old bot about the Rescue Bots to protect their safety and secrecy, he had told him that, due to certain circumstances, he was forced to take another alt mode, and that he had scanned a part-organic, part-technological being. He had suffered a long lecture about the risks of scanning an organic, stating that unpredictability was the least of his concerns, as if his frame disagreed with the results, it may have caused issues within his processor. The large bot hesitated to tell him that he was right, and that it had made Optimus go wild, but the medic quieted down after hearing his tale. The medic had thankfully held back any further lectures, but insisted on giving him a thorough medical check. He knew that Optimus had lost self-control in his new form, causing a lot of damage, but that he had help calming down and transforming back after a day or two, with some aid of an energon patch. He refused to specify where, or who helped him, or whether this being was even Cybertronian or human. Since then, the medic had kept a close eye on him, monitoring his stasis and energon levels closely. Ratchet had banned Optimus from using his new dino-alt mode until further notice, something which he was not hesitant to agree to. He wasn’t particularly desperate to try transforming into a beast again anytime soon.
It was a while later when Ratchet spoke up again, closer to the time every other bot would be waking from stasis.
“I think you should try to transform into your new alt today. I think some practice may help you get used to your alt mode and understand its effects better.” Ratchet said, gaze still fixed on his work. Sometimes it was hard to remember that he was the Prime, not Ratchet, the way he gave orders. Not that he was going to try and disobey them.
“I want to take some scans of your alt mode to see if scanning a part-organic had any effects on your circuitry. We can go to some empty part of the desert—Primus knows this planet has enough of it—if you would like, but after what you said, I don't think it's a good idea to transform in the base.” His voice carried a commanding tone, and it was clear that the decision was already made for Optimus before he could protest. He suppressed a sigh, keeping his features flat and steady before responding.
“For your safety, I would appreciate another bot there. I would prefer Bumblebee; his speed should keep him and yourself safe.” Bumblebee was also the only bot who had more information on what had happened to him, as the Rescue Bots had asked him how Optimus was doing and ended up telling Bumblebee the whole story. The rest of the bots and humans were still unaware that he had gained another alt mode, though they may suspect something happened in the week or so he was away. He was hesitant to tell them, as after all, he had to stand tall and strong to serve his team as a leader to the best of his ability.
“If you think it’s necessary. We’ll leave as soon as he wakes—and you have some energon. Take two rations today,” Ratchet said with his commanding tone once more. It would have been amusing if not for the circumstances.
Optimus left his station with a silent sigh to go and refuel after thanking his friend. At the refuelling station, there were three different-sized cubes for the bots. The larger bots, such as himself, Ratchet, and Bulkhead, needed more energon than the others and so measured their rations in the largest cubes, whilst Bumblebee had the medium-sized cube, and Arcee… a guilty glance confirmed that her ration size was still pitifully small. Optimus tried to remind himself that she was a much smaller bot, and that it was Ratchet who designated portion sizes (although he had tried to insist he could survive on the same portions as Bumblebee, something which Optimus had rejected for obvious reasons), so it must not be as bad as it looked. But the fact remained that Optimus couldn’t help but feel guilty at his comparatively large ration. So, as he went to fill the cube, he made sure to fill it below the designated line by an inch or so. He could function fine on less, and his team deserved it more than he did. And, after all, their rations were becoming dangerously low—though this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence here on Earth. Optimus took his cube, sipping it calmly as he waited for the other bots to wake. He drank his serving slowly, a habit of his, to make the portion seem larger than it was. After finishing the cube and cleaning it (Ratchet’s on cube-cleaning duty, but the Prime always cleaned his own cube), he checked his energon levels to find his tanks only 21% full. His optics tightened at the report, as he was usually able to fill his tanks much faster than that. With his cube, he should be at 29% by now, but maybe the fuel had to be diluted due to their low levels. The thought was unsettling, and Optimus made a mental note to check their store later that day.
Walking back into the main area, he found that Arcee and Bumblebee were awake, although Bee still seemed to be half in stasis—his movements slow and his optics dull. Ratchet must have woken the young bot. It wasn’t too early, but Bee liked to sleep a bit longer than the other bots, which usually wasn’t a problem, and he still got up early if required. Optimus made his way toward him before remembering that due to their outing today, the whole schedule would have to change. Dramatically adjusting course, he offered Bee a short nod and made his way back to the screen to modify the timetable. His bots were usually good at doing what needed to be done, even without a schedule, but it made him feel a lot more comfortable knowing that everything would be done in an even and fair way. Changing his pre-planned structure annoyed him, but he should have altered it much sooner rather than waiting until the last minute. Luckily, it looked like he still had time, as Bumblebee and Arcee made their way to the refuelling station just as he had done.
“Ratchet, have you refuelled yet today?” he asked calmly. Bots were more likely to question the Prime than the medic solely because doing so would often lead to a wrench being thrown—or threatened, anyway. Prime was about the only bot who could do so, along with Bumblebee, whom Ratchet felt too guilty to throw something at.
“I’m the medic here…” he grumbled, but eventually walked away to grab some fuel. He could hear the bots’ conversations from outside but didn’t join them, rather finishing off some other work whilst he waited for Ratchet and Bumblebee.
The room was strangely quiet without the small noises from Ratchet, signs that he was not alone in the room. Even with noises coming from a room down the hall, it all felt too familiar… the way the shadows seemed to quiver, and the lights flicker, leaving him momentarily in darkness. This got more of a reaction out of the fierce leader than it should have, causing his shoulder plates to clench back in anticipation. His recent memory started to blossom once again, the ooze settling over his chassis, forcing him to re-adjust his stance to account for the extra mass. It was getting all too close to his intake, threatening to engulf him, when a sharp crack erupted from the room next door, along with foul language and a few threats. The noise was enough to pull Optimus from his dark thoughts, resetting his optics a few times to confirm that there was indeed nothing threatening around him. As he tried to slow his fans (when had they started to spin so fast?), he noticed how his digits had paused, resting on one key, which had started repeating on his screen. He quickly ripped his servo away and went to fix his mistake. The sounds of his keyboard, on which he was trying to type slightly louder than normal, were enough to keep him company until the others rejoined him, along with their last missing member, Bulkhead. He had stated on the schedule that he, Ratchet, and Bumblebee were to go together into the desert apron, as requested by Ratchet, and so no patrols were scheduled for them during the morning. He got a few curious glances from Arcee and Bulkhead, who sadly had to pick up a few more patrols than normal, but they didn’t seem to mind too much as they continued to talk away. Ratchet, as observant as ever, kept casting glances at the Prime, who was still slightly tense, though it would be easy enough for Ratchet to chalk up his behaviour to nerves for his transformation later in the day.
Optimus, Ratchet, and Bumblebee made their way through the ground bridge, leaving Arcee alone in the base. It was a Monday, and with no children to assist their groundbridging, a bot had to stay in the base at all times in case someone got into trouble. As the trio exited the glowing tunnel, they found themselves in a hot patch of sand, loosely surrounded by rocks and cliffs. The stone would likely help muffle their signal for any unwanted visitors, but also provide cover from prying human eyes. It didn’t, however, help the churning of the Prime's tanks, still unsettled after what had happened in the base. Ratchet, who had brought various medical supplies with him, laid out his medical mat and tools on a flat, lifted rock. Bumblebee went to scout the area in his vehicle mode, leaving a cloud of sand in his wake. The young scout must have surprised himself, dangerously swerving on the unfamiliar terrain, before steadying himself. Optimus went in the opposite direction, not straying too far from their medic, who would be vulnerable if trouble arrived. This was certainly a good site, with lots of rock coverage, whilst still being a wide enough space. As a bonus, it also looked like there was enough cover around the place to hide from anything or anyone, something that sadly may be necessary.
Returning to the clearing, he stood and awaited Bumblebee patiently while Ratchet ran some scans on the Prime, noting down his vitals and other information that would be important. Once the yellow scout returned, he had only one thing to do. With Ratchet’s permission, after a few more scans and some cheerful encouragement from Bee, Prime transformed. It felt different from his other alt modes, which seemed to squish him in, but rather like his transformation back into his root mode, which allowed more space between his plates and innards. His anxiety seemed to rise as he transformed, his plates shifting and mechanics moving, until he stood as a T. rex. There was something more powerful about this form. Although it made him shorter, just below the height of Ratchet, his frame was significantly longer than it had been before. He did a quick systems check—all reported optimal signs. Nothing was wrong… yet. He did, however, note that his fuel levels had dropped slightly more than they should have, now resting at 16%.
“Optimus, are you okay?” the medic asked, locking eyes with the Prime. He was at his eye level now, something that felt all too wrong after craning his helm up to look at his friend for so many years.
“I am fine, thank you,” he replied. And he was! Despite his fears, no darkness pressed at his sides, and though his frame did feel heavier, that was likely due to the unfamiliarity with this mode. The thought comforted him more than it should have. How was he so anxious about a simple task like transforming?
“You look awesome!” Bumblebee chirped, stepping back to get a full look at his leader.
“Raf would LOVE to see this; he loves dinosaurs!” he continued happily, warming the Prime’s spark. Even knowing the full story, he continued to support his leader, who shouldn’t have needed support at all. Optimus couldn’t help but be warmed by the scout's words, his tail swaying in response before he knew it.
“Did you… just wag your tail at me?!” the young bot exclaimed, chirping excitedly and practically bouncing on the spot. Before Prime could say anything, he heard his old friend trying, and failing, to suppress his laughter.
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect that,” the medic chuckled, causing the Prime’s tail to sway again, in shorter movements, side to side. It was frustrating; he wasn’t used to having such a clear tell on his emotions. Attempting to still his tail, he refocused on the medic.
“I am… sorry, it seems I am still getting used to my new form.” His voice seemed gruffer, lower than usual, something the medic certainly caught.
The Prime allowed himself to be scanned and questioned by Ratchet, who seemed to be doing every test and scan possible. The large bot eventually got his tail under control and was feeling more confident by the minute. So much so that when Ratchet instructed him to complete more physical tasks, he was happy to oblige. Utilising the rocks around him, he showcased his new abilities. He was fast, though not so quiet, and easily able to manoeuvre around the terrain far better than his vehicular mode. While he did note the lack of usable arms he had, he found his jaw was strong enough to break any stone he chose; his glossa’s sensors automatically turned down to aid him. He even tried using the drill at the end of his tail, though that was quite messy, as he had to complete the task while not completely facing the wall. That skill could use more practice. While Ratchet remained quiet in his observations, Bee was loud, offering Optimus all the support he would need. The little bot got so excited whenever he completed any task, optics wide. When Ratchet finally said he had gotten the information he needed, Optimus tried to sit but found himself naturally dropping to the floor, resting his now-large head on a large rock that raised his head slightly. This action caught the attention of the other bots, who once again chuckled at his odd behaviour. Optimus felt a twinge of embarrassment go down his spinal strut, lifting his helm in response, though his body seemed to be filled with rocks, with the excess weight it seemed to have gained.
“Well, Optimus, you seem to be in good condition,” the medic eyed the bot, sitting on the ground. “…but it’s clear you could do with a bit more rest—no working into the night until I say so!” The medic once again ordered, making the Dino-bot tilt his head slightly to the left.
“But then no work would be finished,” the bot replied. He didn’t understand why the two other mechs started laughing, but it was comforting to know that he wasn’t as intimidating as he first thought.
“What is so amusing?” he replied, attempting to stand. Turns out, it was an action that was more difficult without proper arms. His first attempt, in which he tried to get his large pedes under him, led to him accidentally pushing himself forward, surprising the medic who was standing a few feet away. But what startled Ratchet more was the eerie noise the Prime’s engine made, low and rumbling, similar to a growl. Optimus did not seem to notice the noise he was making, or the medic’s reaction, however, as he tried to once again stand up. He tucked both pedes as far forward as he could and tried to push up with his small arms. After a moment, the movement worked, and he managed to stand once more, having to take a few steps forward to keep balance. This action led him to be eye-to-eye with the medic, just inches away from his faceplate, who had an odd expression on his faceplate and was eerily still.
Ratchet was wide-opticed, dermas slightly apart, looking up at his friend, as the medic slowly took a step back away from the beast. As Ratchet's foot touched the ground behind him, Optimus took a step back himself, creating room between himself and the medic. It had taken him a moment to recognise the look on his friend's face, an expression he had never seen toward him: fear.
“I—I am sorry, old friend, it was not my intention to get so close or to frighten you,” the mech apologised, his tail slightly drooping. Ratchet's fear had awakened his own, watering the doubts that had started to subside, helping them weave their way, once again, into his processor.
“Optimus, I… did you just—” the medic tried, before he was interrupted by the Autobot scout.
“Growl?” he didn’t sound as enthusiastic as he had only a few minutes before, another thing that worried Optimus, along with the growling.
“I—I’m sorry?” he responded. He shifted his big head between the medic and the scout before him.
“What I was trying to say,” Ratchet continued, shooting the yellow mech a glare, “was that your engine made an oddly low noise that could... be interpreted as a growl.” He admitted begrudgingly, picking up his scanner, which he was in the process of putting away, and moving towards Optimus.
“I—what?” He shook his helm slightly, as if doing so would help him recollect what had just happened.
“Growled! Just like a real dinosaur!” Bee confirmed, as Ratchet let the scanner's light shine over Optimus. Frustration shot through the bot as the light shone in his optic.
“Ratchet, I am fine—” he was cut off when, once again, a low rumble erupted from the bot. This time, Optimus noticed the sound, stepping back and looking downwards, trying to get a look at his chassis in his confusion, though this frame would not allow him. This time, he let Ratchet scan him without complaint, lowering himself to make it easier for the bot.
Ratchet quickly checked the scans, noticing nothing unusual.
“Can you… growl… again for me?” he asked, face serious. He lifted the scanner back up, aiming to scan the bot while making the noise. It was an unusual sound to be coming from an engine: too low, too strong, too… aggressive. He had to make sure nothing was amiss in the Prime’s engine.
“I… will try,” Optimus responded, though he was unsure how to follow through with his promise. What had he done to make the noise, this… growl? He shifted on his pedes, thinking back to what he had done. Thinking about it, he could feel his engine rumbling aggressively in his chassis, sending thrumming vibrations into his frame. How had he not noticed? He allowed the vibrations to grow, snaking their way through his frame, escaping at his intake in the same low grumble that he had made before. The medic was quick to get scans of the bot, noting how his engine was rattling. It should have been a bad thing, but his scan showed that there was plenty of space around his engine, and that nothing was hitting it—just the noise the seemingly charged engine of the Prime was making. It had to do something with his alt mode. After all, he had told Ratchet that he had roared, so why not growl? He chuckled slightly.
“Well, Optimus, everything seems to be fine—but if your engine starts to hurt or you feel any pain in your chassis, you transform back and immediately find me—understood? Actually, please transform back now; I want to have a look at your engine in bot mode.” The medic instructed. Optimus agreed with Ratchet’s decision, his frame feeling much more alien than it had only a few moments ago.
He took a step back, wanting to give the two Autobots as much space as possible in case his transformation took up more room than he thought, and transformed.
Or, he should have. A warning shot up on his HUD:
Warning: Transformation error.
He tried again.
Warning: Transformation error.
He shuttered his optics, panic starting to settle into his frame. He couldn’t allow himself to be stuck in this unpredictable form. What if he lost control again, and hurt Ratchet or Bumblebee?
Warning: Transformation error.
Warning: Transformation error.
Warning: Transformation error.
“Optimus!” A beep sounded behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He found his scout dropping to the ground and transforming to avoid his tail, which was lashing erratically behind him. At some point, he had turned to face away from the young bot. He stilled his tail and turned back around.
“Bumblebee—I apologise, I didn’t realise I was causing you danger.” The Prime’s voice was solemn; it was unlike him to lose awareness or to be so careless. Despite Bumblebee's reassurances, a blade of guilt drove into his spark.
“Optimus—are you okay?” Ratchet asked tentatively, taking a step forward, ready to spring into action, whether that be through his medical training or by simply offering his friend support. The Dino-bot before him looked lost, an unfamiliar expression in his optics.
“Yes, Ratchet. But it seems I cannot transform back into my root mode,” the Prime responded, his voice surprisingly strong. Annoyingly so.
“Hmmm. You'd better let me have a look at your T-cog. Please lie down.” The medic’s voice had softened slightly, which only worried the Prime more.
Still, he lay down on his side in the warm sand and hot sun while Ratchet took apart his frame. The scans he had taken had shown him where his T-cog was, but he still had to go through lots of other mechanics before he could reach it. With one of the Prime’s outer armour panels removed, Ratchet was able to send a small device to video the part, the feed popping up on the tablet Ratchet had brought with him.
“Optimus, please try and transform again,” Ratchet asked, keeping his optics fixed on his screen. Optimus tried once more, but the same warning appeared on his HUD. Without turning his helm, which seemed much heavier now than it had before, the bot eyed the medic. He played back the footage a few times and listened to the audio.
“Is he going to be okay?” Bumblebee’s small call came from behind him. He felt his chassis tighten at the beginning of a growl but forced the noise down. The young bot had already seen his leader weakened, unable to perform the simple task of transforming, their kind’s most rudimentary function. He didn’t need to also hear the desperation churning in Optimus’s engine. The medic hesitated, then turned off his tablet and started putting Optimus’s armour plate back on.
“I… am not sure, Bumblebee. I can’t find anything wrong with his T-cog, though he does have a very low power reserve.” Optimus’s tail tip twitched, the only indication of the Prime’s stress. He checked his own reserves, surprised to find his energon levels resting at 9%, and that he was in urgent need of stasis. Both levels were meant to send him a warning, which he was certain he hadn’t received. He was also sure that these levels should be higher than they were presently, noting it was only early afternoon.
“Did you have an extra ration as I said?” Ratchet questioned, irritation lining his voice.
“Of course—” Optimus started, before realising his words were false. Somehow, in the minute between Ratchet telling him to take another ration and actually refuelling, he had forgotten the medic’s instructions. “I am sorry, old friend, but I seem to have forgotten to take double rations as you requested” The Prime’s voice was steady, unlike his fearful thoughts, which were repeating in his helm. How had he forgotten the simple instruction, and so soon after Ratchet had said it? It was very unlike him. What’s more, reflecting on it, he had been quite forgetful over the past few days in general. Was this another effect of his new alt mode?
“I can see that; your tanks are almost empty, and you need some recharge,” the medic grumbled, muttering under his breath, “both issues I tried to solve, but that doesn’t matter.” The medic wasn’t mad, per se, but even the small bit of disappointment that Optimus felt coming off his EM field was enough to embarrass the Prime, making him feel guiltier than he already did.
Ratchet started packing up his medical equipment while Bumblebee walked through the clearing to ensure they left nothing behind that would hint at their presence. Optimus continued to lie on the ground, as per Ratchet's orders, his helm raised above the ground. With each shutter of his optics, he struggled to reopen them, the passing time only proving his need for recharge and refuel. He went to stand, hoping the movement might stave off the stasis that was threatening to overcome his frame, but struggled due to his heavy, tired form. Luckily, he felt his friends’ servos help push his chassis up and steady him. His engine rumbled in appreciation, and maybe a bit of embarrassment.
“Thank you for your assistance,” he said, now standing without aid. Ratchet responded by calling in a ground bridge, which soon opened up in front of them, kicking up the sand around it. Although Optimus was sure he didn’t need it, Ratchet guided him through the bridge, with Bumblebee on his other side, seemingly prepared to catch the large mech. Just as they entered their base, a small voice erupted from the raised platform.
“Oh. My. God! Is that… Optimus?!” Miko screamed, seeming to bounce on her pedes. She took Optimus by surprise, causing the bot to stumble, quickly finding his footing before Ratchet or Bee could assist. Looking around, he also noticed a shocked-looking Arcee and Bulkhead, who stood and watched their leader in awe. Jack and Rafael were also present with mimicking expressions.
“Yes, Miko. I am sorry to have to inform you of my new alt mode this way,” the Prime apologised, though no one seemed to pay much attention.
“Wow, Prime, looking good!” Arcee complimented, folding her arms across her chassis.
“I’ve gotta say, boss, you look… impressive,” Bulkhead added.
“Wait—I thought you bots could only transform into one thing?” Jack questioned.
“Yeah, but with proper training you can take on multiple alt modes!” the young scout squealed, Rafael translating for the other children.
“None of us has been able to do it, but Prime managed it a while ago. It takes a lot of patience and time,” Arcee explained to the children, casting an impressed glance back at the large bot.
“But it is not without its risks,” the Prime cut in, stopping the children’s excited gasps. “It is often very draining, and certain alt modes can lead to other challenges in the frame and processor.” Optimus continued, earning worried gazes from the two bots and children in front of him.
“-which is why he is still in this form. He is unable to transform back currently, something that hopefully sorts itself out with proper recharge and energon. So- no more questions!” the grumpy orange bot finished, silencing the worried words of his team. “Optimus, go get some rest on the med bay bench. I’ll bring you some energon soon,” the medic ordered, a request he was happy to follow.
While usually getting any rest in the med bay was difficult due to it being in the open, Optimus was just grateful for a berth in close proximity. He walked to the other side of the silo, away from the prying eyes of his team. He gingerly climbed onto the berth (with some difficulty), finding it smaller than he remembered. Nevertheless, he lay on his side, resting his head on the metal. His tail hung off the edge uncomfortably, but he didn’t mind too much and eventually let his frame relax on the berth. Listening to the unusually quiet voices of the children and the other dull signs of life around him, he slipped into his much-needed stasis.
Why had he avoided resting for so long?