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The Prime stood in the Tower alone that night. He did not expect to ever return here any time soon, but here he was. Now ruling over Cybertron, which made him nervous enough to purge sometimes, especially with how fast it went over, but someone had to do it.
The mech was restless tonight, due to an increasingly insistent thrumming in his chest, right where the Matrix of Leadership was against his chest plating. He had ignored it for days now, having assumed that it was just something that came with getting used to being a Prime. Was he doing it correctly? Was he being a Prime correctly? Both physically, emotionally and politically. Physically… he was feeling weird since the Matrix had settled in his chest, a constant echo of the sound of the Energon Sea, its almost scalding warmth filled him with calm and amplified his instinct to protect and nurture all of his people.
It was kind of alarming to him, it alarmed the part of him that was still Orion Pax. To think he was once a carefree miner with no bigger worry than his dream of retrieving the Matrix and the miners being saved in some vague way. But it was no more to him than a daydream, a coping mechanism. Little did he ever know that he would be carrying the Matrix, and it was quite the burden…
Optimus was distracted from his musing as the Matrix thrummed more intensely than ever, he rubbed his thumb around the Matrix’s place. “Optimus?” came a voice and he spun around, coming across as more nervous than he would have liked. It was a certain pink femme, Elita 1. "You're thinking about him again?” she asked quietly.
“No,” Optimus said. For once in months, that wasn’t the case.
“It’s the Matrix then, isn’t it?”
Optimus winced, wondering how his former mining supervisor was always so sharp in her observations, then looked down. He was still rubbing at the Matrix chamber. “Yes. Maybe.”
Elita raised an eyebrow in question as she stepped closer to the taller bot, asking if she could lean closer to examine the Matrix. Optimus’ spark skipped but he calmed down, knowing Elita was just intending to find out what was up with him. “Honestly, I do see a little something…”
“Probably nothing,” Optimus said quickly, wanting to get away from the closeness. The last bot to be this close to him was… no, not now. “I’ll see you at the upcoming meeting Commander Elita,” he finished as he turned to walk away, the official tone in his voice closing the conversation.
“That mech…” grumbled Elita.
“Uh-uh,” Ratchet said as she walked into the medbay. “I know that tone.”
“Just when I think I understand that bot, he goes and gets weird,” vented Elita. “I’m a medic, not a psychologist,” Ratchet groused back.
“Yeah yeah…” Elita waved a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry Jazz, didn’t realize Ratchet was patching you up,” she said as she spotted the miner- no- the Special Ops agent. It felt weird to talk to Jazz, especially considering last time she met her, she was going to let her die in that cave-in. Of course, she knew staying would put the other miner bots at risk and didn’t expect Orion and D-16 to be able to save Jazz, but regardless, it was awkward now.
Jazz didn’t seem to think so, though, smiling at Elita. “Yeah, still in physical therapy to get used to this new leg,” Jazz said, flexing said limb. “Look, I’m guessing you’re in a mood because you were worried and Orion just dipped out of a conversation about it again?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Sorta.” Elita, despite her hesitation, sat on the chair beside Jazz’s. She figured she might as well talk about it with another bot who knew Orion best. "I’m used to him being distant sometimes, thinking of you-know-who, but now… it’s like he’s a different bot. And well, of course he is, but he can’t keep everything bottled up. Without Dee, that’s all he has been doing, especially lately."
Jazz chewed her lip, wondering how to respond. Well Elita, he’s kind of in shock,” she said gently. “Give it time, he’ll open up when he’s ready. No need to work yourself up- that’ll just stress him out more, in my opinion.”
“I suppose,” Elita looked at her fellow Autobot. “Thank you Jazz,” she told her. “I hope your new leg welds on soon.”
Jazz laughed, swinging her new leg. “It will. Now, I know I’m irresistible, but you better get outta here, before Ratchet chases you out for ‘hassling his patient.”
Elita cracked a smile, for the first time that day.
Later that night, Optimus’ breath hitched as he woke up. That urgent stirring… it had become almost painful. “Ughhhh…” He got up and paced around but even that didn’t help as usual. His chest plate’s around the Matrix throbbed almost painfully- no, not almost, that hurt, Primus dammit! Frag, now he had to go see Ratchet.
“Optimus,” came a voice, familiar. Optimus shot upright. It was the voice of wisdom, Alpha Trion. He closed his optics, and the darkness gave way to outlines of blue light. “The Matrix bears you this sparkling, this page, who has been sent by us to serve whoever holds the Matrix. They shall be like a loyal page to you, and whoever holds the Matrix in future times, and until the Matrix is lost once more, they will live on, inextricably linked to the Matrix bearer.” “Enough with the speeches, Trion. Let our brother in Primehood have this… creation.”
Optimus opened his eyes, and onto his lap, had fallen a little gray object. He didn’t know what to make of it all. The pain was gone, which was a relief. He picked it up. It unfolded, into a little gray bot. A protoform of a bot really.
“...hello?” It beeped beseechingly in response.
“So you’re the page Alpha Trion sent.” he touched the bitlet’s nose. It blinked at him, optics still crossed as his finger had tapped the nose between him. “Beep.” Optimus smiled, then frowned. He had better show Ratchet the newest gift of the Prime’s to make sure it was okay.
Until then, he thought he had better name it. He had an old friend before he met D-16 who died in the mines... how about naming him after him? A new begining, apart from Dee/Megatron. "Roller," he declared. "You like that?"
"Beep."
“-the frag is that?”
“A sparkling- or a page. Both, I think.”
“I know it’s a sparkling, Optimus,” Ratchet said, trying to come off as patient to the new Prime and the creature he had rudely plopped on his examination table. “Where did it spring from? Visited the Well of Spark’s recently?”
Optimus felt a twinge of memory of his and Dee’s great idea… “Not yet, unfortunately. Roller here just fell out of the Matrix. I think they come with it.”
“You named it? And what do you mean they come with the Matrix?!”
"Beep."
“Of course I named it,” Optimus defended, picking up Roller and pulling them close to him. “Look, just…make sure they are well, okay? That’s all I ask because frankly, im not in the mood for any deep dives about how, why, when, and wherefore. I’m tired, Ratchet. It’s been barely a week and my entire life is upside down. Just let me have this.” The medic blinked. Twice. “Okaaay,” he conceded, not willing to further antagonize his leader. “Well the the good news is, their spark is stable.” Optimus relaxed. “That’s good.”
“Woah, hold up a nanoclick, who’s this?” exclaimed a voice in the med bay.
"Beep," chirped Roller.
“Jazz, don’t you dare put weight on that leg! You haven’t yet warmed up yet.” barked Ratchet. Jazz waved a servo. “I’ll live, Ratty. Who’s this li’l fella?” “Jazz, meet Roller!” exclaimed Optimus, scooping up the beeping sparkling and walking over to show him to one of his oldest friends, while Ratchet was distracted by the fact that he had just been called ‘Ratty’.
“Aw, look at the li’l bit,” Jazz exclaimed, reaching out to tap their gripping servos. “Where’d it come from? No way you had a sparkling out of nowhere, not since…” Jazz trailed off, not wanting to bring up Orion and Dee’s long-planned sparkling, long gone now. Optmimus looked away. “A gift from the Primes, my friend. I heard their voices again, telling me that this little one comes from the Matrix, and the Matrix- bearer is who they serve. Jazz whistled. “This little bitlet? Damn… I don’t think they could do much serving until they grow a bit.”
“Of course not yet,” Optimus said, protectively clutching Roller to his chest. “Boo…? Beep! BEEEEEP!” shrieked Roller.
“What’s wrong with it?” Optimus said in alarm. "Nothing- they're hungry," grumbled Ratchet, rummanging around for his supply of Energon rations he had kept since Energon began flowing again- he still couldn't believe this- and popped a small blue cube into Roller's mouth. As they chewed, Jazz gazed at them, his blue visor hiding his raised eyebrow.
"So.. you named him after Roller."
"I did."
"How come? No offense, but Roller was kind of..." he trailed off again.
"Kind of what?"
"Well, I don't wanna disrespect him, may he rest in Primus, but wasn't he a steroid addict?"
"No! Well, yes, but it's a good, humble name. And it's nice to have something to remember my past by, aside from.. everything that happened since I became a miner. Optimus nearly added. He wanted to share more with Jazz, he wanted to lean against his shoulder like he did with Dee in the times when he was new to the job mining for energon, when he was bemoaning his fate, demoted from archivist to miner after he had been too careless about searching for the blacklisted books under Sentinel's regime.
But it was too much to talk about for one day. Optimus had much he wanted to say, but no one to say it with that wouldn't feel like betrayal of Dee.
So he began talking to Roller about it while tending to them.
It wasn't hard to fall into the habit- the little bot's eyes were golden too, and their body primarily pewter, must be because the Matrix pulled from his most cherished memories, Optimus theorized.
"I'm no good at this. I wasn't always a leader," he told the little boy as he soothed them late one night. "I used to be a miner. Yeah, just like the bot you're named after. Well, I wasn't always a miner either. I was a librarian," he said. He paused, thinking he heard something in the doorway, but shrugged it off, too tired to go and investigate.
"A librarian, in the Hall of Records.” he continued, bouncing Roller up and down.
“Beep?”
“Quite. It was my job to reshelve the datapads and, well, records. Wasn’t allowed to read them thought. I did anyway. Probably shouldn’t have.” he paused again and looked down at Roller, fast asleep, but he talked on anyway.
“But, if I hadn't gone and gotten myself demoted to the mines that day, then I would have met Dee. I don’t know if it would be for the better or not. If I hadn’t met Dee, then we never would’ve become amicas, and my expeditions back to the archives would have ended in my death most likely if Dee hadn’t been constantly saving my aft… is that where i went wrong? Or….” he rambled, then paused as he thought now to the even more excruciating memory, the knowledge that their planned-for protoform had been slain by Airachnid to torment Dee further. “Was I being selfish?” The Prime thought, voice cracking. “If I hadn't insisted on how great that idea to have one was… among my other Orion-Pax-Masterplans,” he chuckled humorlessly “... would Megatron have to come to exist at all?”
Behind the doorway, the sounds had stopped, but only because Elita- who had been about to come in to check on him with an update on the Quintesson sighting locations, was perfectly stilled by everything she had just heard. The self blame… maybe Optimus wasn’t as optimistic as she once thought when he was behind closed doors.
She would just have to keep reminding him why he still fought then. Maybe it wasn’t just that Optimus was being closed off, but that she needed to get better at pep talks. It wasn't exactly her forte, she hadn't known much about leadership either. If anything, she felt she had been the selfish one. Not wanting protocol to be broken even for Jazz's sake, being just as obsessed with moving up the ranks as Dee- no- Megatron had been. Never seeking to understand a perspective other than her own struggles moving up the ranks as a small femme.
Maybe that goofy little gray sparkling from nowhere could help bridge the gap, though.
Roller was an anomaly, both to Ratchet and to the other Autobots. Well, the Optimus rarely let him out of his sight, so not many knew about them, even fewer when Perceptor planned to examine him by taking him apart and became the first Autobot to feel the Prime's wrath. Roller spent most of his time being tended to by Optimus or Elita in shifts when the other wasn't busy.
B-127, however, was delighted when Optimus showed the new little creature to his favourite little scout.
“An apprentice!” he had exclaimed when he first spotted the little gray bitlet held in Optimus’ servos. “You’re entrusting me with a mentee, Optimus? I’ll do my best!” he said, picking up Roller and saluting as he ran off with them, much to Optimus’ alarm and Elita’s amusement- and frustration. "Primus alone knows how Roller will turn out spending much of their time with the scatterbrained scout…" she muttered, touching Optimus' arm as he tensed up as he saw B-127 running with the sparkling. Optimus, however, did not pull away at the closeness any more.
"Someone has to watch them. We'll only be even more busy- what with the update you gave me last week, we have to work on nipping any potential Quintesson return in the bud."
"True. And I have to whip-"
"Organize," Optimus insisted, smiling a bit.
"-Fine, not whip, organize these new recruits into shape if we want to compete with those 'Con ex-High Guard members- we have a new batch of recruits who signed up. Hound and Mirage- if you know the nature lover and that funny guy with the disappearing act- seem especially promising."
"You're doing great at organizing our military, Commander Elita, and I at the Council. It's good for Bee to have a young friend of his own." Optimus said, but smiled. He could hardly believe what he was doing sometimes, the grief over the past was still there but he spent much time when he wasn't busy with his work at the Council either worrying about Roller or worrying about Bee. Roller was fragile, and Bee was... Bee. He hadn't spent much time out of Sublevel 50, and something he had gotten out of B-127 that saddened and infuriated him to no end was the fact that Bee had been in there since he was a sparkling. Originally a sparkling laborer, he had been demoted over and over for his tendency to space out and see things- which reminded Optimus to get Bee to Ratchet again sometime soon- though Ratchet would be dismayed to see the hyper scout again.
Whether these two were his or not, there was no doubt they meant as much to him as the protoform with Dee once had. Not replacing it, but filling a hole in his spark.
As it turned out, Optimus had every reason to worry.
“Badassatron. Say it, Roll. Come on,”
“Beep-on?”
“Close! Good job! Now, if you follow me please, thank you- no don’t eat that, we call that grass- I'll take you on your first scouting expedition."
"Bee! Roller! WAIT!"
The two were close, and Optimus was glad of it. He could only hope Roller could continue to be safe. They did grow a bit over the months, but remained small, in a way that alarmed Optimus. It shouldn't have, after all, Alpha Trion had said that the little one would grow into a little bot, Minicon-sized, never growing big enough to bear the matrix, but a perfect size to serve whoever Primus deemed worthy of carrying it. But he just felt that Roller should be something more, but he didn’t know why.
He wasn't sure, but sometimes the voices of the Primes seemed to be talking in hushed tones amongst themselves about something other than the Quintesson invasion.
(And now for the art I finally finished drawing ;-;. Yay Roller has a design finally)
