Fanfiction: Symmetry in Contrasts - Prowl/Optimus - Part 04
Title: Symmetry in Contrasts: Prowl/Optimus (OneShot Collection)
Chapter: One Shot 4 - Is this how our world ends?
Author: neverminetohold (LJ/FF.net)
Rating: T
Summary: In the end, the Decepticons won. Two ‘bots left standing...
Pairing or Character(s): Prowl, Optimus Prime; others mentioned
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any form... Poor me!
Warning(s)/Genre: H/C, angst, hints of Slash, dark, abstract contemplation of suicide
Author's Note: This is a stand alone AU within the series and not part of the interconnected pieces (part 01 - 03)
Feedback: Both positive and negative (as long as it is constructive) is most welcome!
Is this how our world ends?
In the end, the Decepticons won.
Detroit went up in flames, leaving only puddles of molten Sumdac robots and ruins behind. Empty skyscrapers, overturned cars; eerie silence.
The streets were full of endless rubble, shrapnel embedded everywhere from the explosions. Glass shards glittered in the stark sunlight; each the piece of a broken dream.
Clouds of ash wafted lazily in the wind, carrying a foul stench no amount of rain could erase. Gray and sickly sweet, even after months had passed, it lingered like a shroud over a landscape devoid of life.
The remains of thousands and millions of humans erased, just drifting away...
Sari had died, trying to evacuate her father to safety, just as Megatron struck. The professor had to watch her fall and was imprisoned afterwards, only to be killed the moment his usefulness was outlived.
The Allspark key was lost.
Ratchet, Bumblebee and Bulkhead... - It was too painful to remember their deactivation; quick and torturous; relief and struggle till the end. Each different; all awful.
The last they had heard, Megatron had finished his space bridge, heading to Cybertron with his main force; leaving the hunt to Lugnut and Slipstream.
Reinforcements were soon sent to Earth.
Countries were invaded and crushed, humans shipped off - as fragile as these organic creatures were, as slaves they could serve a purpose. Till they died, within orns, crushed in the mines, - or worse.
The two of them were the only Autobots left functioning on this planet, - and Cybertron’s fate was still uncertain, with no way left to contact the Elite Guard; isolated from everything.
So they ran. And hid.
They did what they could, employing guerilla tactics - but it was never enough to cause real damage, to stop the advance or to help anyone.
The bitter truth beyond that was: Existing alone is insufficient, when one had once known how it was to live.
BREAK
Optimus’ dull frame weighed heavily on him; hot and full of dirt. It crushed his plating inwards till it clamped sensitive wires and tubing, slowing the flow of both coolant and energon. Prowl endured the slight pain stoically, allowing Optimus to cling to him, like every night.
Optimus’ servos shook, rattling the once shiny black armor plate in his grasps. His optics were dim, gaze turned inside, seeing not the damp cave or Prowl, but the deaths he had been unable to prevent.
Prowls digits traced Optimus helm soothingly, avoiding the torn audio fin; feeling rough patches of graying metal and too many dents and scratches to count.
Words had the power to hurt, because their solace was empty, so Prowl just clicked at him, like a creator would do for a frightened sparkling - or a friend, close enough that the meaning was understood by spark.
Lost hope was a cut far deeper than a surface scratch.
Alternately, Prowl hummed, using his Circuit-Su to align their spark energies, to redirect them to flow more easily. They mirrored emotions, in a way, so Optimus’ were like deserts drained and seas overflowing.
A tangle, chains - a black hole; there was so much lost of him.
He did it to soothe him, to dampen the pain and reduce the burden, - but Optimus allowed it to escape the memories. The infinity loop of golden moments lost and overwhelming darkness, playing in his minds eye to haunt his recharge like no mere nightmare ever could. - Since truth hurts the most. It’s reality, not irrational fears.
Prowl used careful bursts of energy to disrupt relays and micro chips; the connection between memory banks and CPU. Intimately familiar with Optimus’ inner workings, both in a technical and emotional sense, Prowl guided, coaxed and directed; the younger ‘bot never knowing to what extent, but trusting him anyway.
A strangled sigh of guilty relief escaped Optimus vocalizer as recharge finally claimed him and his curled up frame went limp on top of the ninjabot.
BREAK
Prowl situated his frame against the trunk of a dead tree, the caves entrance firm in his field of view and all sensors alert; in the cover of the thick foliage around him.
He settled within himself, systems slowing, his perception opening up to the flowing energies around him; slipping into a superficial meditative state of processor.
Abstract contemplations kept him busy and soon, Prowl found himself considering the ‘easy way out’. - It was not unheard of, for a mech to extinguish his own spark. It had no name, this mystifying, sad concept; not in Cybertronian.
Humans called it ‘suicide’.
Abstract indeed, - it could never be Prowls way, he knew himself to be too proud to admit defeat of any kind.
The thought had merely entered his stilled processor out of morbid curiosity. - He had seen by now too many humans choosing to kill themselves. They preferred to embark on an uncertain journey - To paradise? To hell? Into nothingness? To end as rotting corpses? - rather than enduring the fate of a Decepticon pet.
They had tried, again and again, but they could not stay and protect those not yet caught or killed, - it broke Optimus’ spark, piece by tiny piece, every time.
That, surprisingly enough, was for Prowl a reason to keep going. - Because of Optimus.
The younger ‘bot was... too entangled, defined by others. It was a constant need for him, to go beyond his limits. He would always do so, - but never for himself. Optimus would, consequently, not keep going, should Prowl cease to function. Their connection was the last thread of a web now torn; leaving gaping holes behind were once others had existed.
Such terrifying, wonderful selflessness - truly the sign of a leader. Blessing once, it was now a curse, since all seemed lost.
A shame. - He was so young, compared to Prowl...
What did Optimus truly know about life? What had he seen and experienced of it, aside from his training in the Elite Guard and his time as leader of a space bridge repair crew? Aside from war, that is. Optimus had just enough good memories saved in his processor to haunt him now.
It was ironic, but the only word to describe this situation, that Prowl could come up with, was ‘unfair’. He was darkly amused to use it in this context; when a world was warped beyond recognition and would surely soon end, be it the whole of this planet or a young spark.
Seeing the only option left with the detached clarity only meditation could offer him, surrounded by chaos, as he was, Prowl knew what to do.
It wasn't much. - And it was certainly no sacrifice on his part, although, back at the beginning, he would certainly have thought so and fought with all he had against it.
Prowl would have to live for Optimus’ sake, as grand as that sounded, it was a simple thing to do. There was no choice left, just acceptance; what is, is. - In a way, he had known this outcome all along.
On another plane of existence, Prowl was elated, in a chilly way. It was like... to wake up from your life, only to realize that you had lived a dream within a dream. And, maybe, in truth, it was a nightmare...
And you had to wonder, waking up: A nightmare? Was it now or then, here or there? Or did you just not see that it was something entirely different?
Prowl could still feel the lingering trace of Optimus’ spark energy, swirling in his own systems, after their alignment. He had gotten used to it, as time passed, to the not so foreign presence of another; the whole process came natural now, easy and... welcome.
And he could almost still feel the touch of a heavy frame on his own, a warm weight, suffused with a kind spark; cracked by pressure but persistently reaching for Prowls own...
Was there less importance to it because it was artificially created and an attempt spurred on by desperation, rather than true attraction and choice?
To Prowl, it wasn't.
The basic component of every kind of relationship was always the need to shake off the crushing loneliness. Granted, it was more complex than that, but not as much as most romantic ‘bots cared to admit.
In a way, it was enough for Prowl. Now, the only question left was if it was the same to Optimus or if he had misinterpreted the signs which went deeper than seeking solace...
But, one thing was clear to him: Being trapped in this way would be far more... pleasant than the deathtrap which was made up by the whole of Earth.
BREAK
The shift within the cave alerted Prowl some breems later and he went back inside immediately. Weary, wide optics greeted him in the twilight, as he rounded the natural barrier of an old rockslide.
Seeing him, Optimus frame slumped with something akin to relief: ”I thought... that you had left.”
The dull words echoed heavily in the enclosed space and Prowl wondered for a moment what he could do to lay that fear to rest; feeling sorely unequipped to share his recent insight in mere words.
Faint disgust curled around his spark at his hesitance and he moved determinedly closer, to touch Optimus’ spark chamber with careful, slow precision. He smiled at him, more open than ever before, not aware that, to an observer, the expression would seem twisted by the ugliness all around.
”I will never leave.”
Optimus desperate reaction was Prowls answer to a question not spoken out loud.
...
...
...
Some orn, they would no longer be able to hit and run and hide.
That orn would come, sooner, rather than later. - But discovering something less dark in a dying world, neither ‘bot cared. And, although foolish, that faint light gave them some hope.
(Foolish, because hope is the greatest torture one can endure).
END
Part 5
Chapter: One Shot 4 - Is this how our world ends?
Author: neverminetohold (LJ/FF.net)
Rating: T
Summary: In the end, the Decepticons won. Two ‘bots left standing...
Pairing or Character(s): Prowl, Optimus Prime; others mentioned
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any form... Poor me!
Warning(s)/Genre: H/C, angst, hints of Slash, dark, abstract contemplation of suicide
Author's Note: This is a stand alone AU within the series and not part of the interconnected pieces (part 01 - 03)
Feedback: Both positive and negative (as long as it is constructive) is most welcome!
Is this how our world ends?
In the end, the Decepticons won.
Detroit went up in flames, leaving only puddles of molten Sumdac robots and ruins behind. Empty skyscrapers, overturned cars; eerie silence.
The streets were full of endless rubble, shrapnel embedded everywhere from the explosions. Glass shards glittered in the stark sunlight; each the piece of a broken dream.
Clouds of ash wafted lazily in the wind, carrying a foul stench no amount of rain could erase. Gray and sickly sweet, even after months had passed, it lingered like a shroud over a landscape devoid of life.
The remains of thousands and millions of humans erased, just drifting away...
Sari had died, trying to evacuate her father to safety, just as Megatron struck. The professor had to watch her fall and was imprisoned afterwards, only to be killed the moment his usefulness was outlived.
The Allspark key was lost.
Ratchet, Bumblebee and Bulkhead... - It was too painful to remember their deactivation; quick and torturous; relief and struggle till the end. Each different; all awful.
The last they had heard, Megatron had finished his space bridge, heading to Cybertron with his main force; leaving the hunt to Lugnut and Slipstream.
Reinforcements were soon sent to Earth.
Countries were invaded and crushed, humans shipped off - as fragile as these organic creatures were, as slaves they could serve a purpose. Till they died, within orns, crushed in the mines, - or worse.
The two of them were the only Autobots left functioning on this planet, - and Cybertron’s fate was still uncertain, with no way left to contact the Elite Guard; isolated from everything.
So they ran. And hid.
They did what they could, employing guerilla tactics - but it was never enough to cause real damage, to stop the advance or to help anyone.
The bitter truth beyond that was: Existing alone is insufficient, when one had once known how it was to live.
BREAK
Optimus’ dull frame weighed heavily on him; hot and full of dirt. It crushed his plating inwards till it clamped sensitive wires and tubing, slowing the flow of both coolant and energon. Prowl endured the slight pain stoically, allowing Optimus to cling to him, like every night.
Optimus’ servos shook, rattling the once shiny black armor plate in his grasps. His optics were dim, gaze turned inside, seeing not the damp cave or Prowl, but the deaths he had been unable to prevent.
Prowls digits traced Optimus helm soothingly, avoiding the torn audio fin; feeling rough patches of graying metal and too many dents and scratches to count.
Words had the power to hurt, because their solace was empty, so Prowl just clicked at him, like a creator would do for a frightened sparkling - or a friend, close enough that the meaning was understood by spark.
Lost hope was a cut far deeper than a surface scratch.
Alternately, Prowl hummed, using his Circuit-Su to align their spark energies, to redirect them to flow more easily. They mirrored emotions, in a way, so Optimus’ were like deserts drained and seas overflowing.
A tangle, chains - a black hole; there was so much lost of him.
He did it to soothe him, to dampen the pain and reduce the burden, - but Optimus allowed it to escape the memories. The infinity loop of golden moments lost and overwhelming darkness, playing in his minds eye to haunt his recharge like no mere nightmare ever could. - Since truth hurts the most. It’s reality, not irrational fears.
Prowl used careful bursts of energy to disrupt relays and micro chips; the connection between memory banks and CPU. Intimately familiar with Optimus’ inner workings, both in a technical and emotional sense, Prowl guided, coaxed and directed; the younger ‘bot never knowing to what extent, but trusting him anyway.
A strangled sigh of guilty relief escaped Optimus vocalizer as recharge finally claimed him and his curled up frame went limp on top of the ninjabot.
BREAK
Prowl situated his frame against the trunk of a dead tree, the caves entrance firm in his field of view and all sensors alert; in the cover of the thick foliage around him.
He settled within himself, systems slowing, his perception opening up to the flowing energies around him; slipping into a superficial meditative state of processor.
Abstract contemplations kept him busy and soon, Prowl found himself considering the ‘easy way out’. - It was not unheard of, for a mech to extinguish his own spark. It had no name, this mystifying, sad concept; not in Cybertronian.
Humans called it ‘suicide’.
Abstract indeed, - it could never be Prowls way, he knew himself to be too proud to admit defeat of any kind.
The thought had merely entered his stilled processor out of morbid curiosity. - He had seen by now too many humans choosing to kill themselves. They preferred to embark on an uncertain journey - To paradise? To hell? Into nothingness? To end as rotting corpses? - rather than enduring the fate of a Decepticon pet.
They had tried, again and again, but they could not stay and protect those not yet caught or killed, - it broke Optimus’ spark, piece by tiny piece, every time.
That, surprisingly enough, was for Prowl a reason to keep going. - Because of Optimus.
The younger ‘bot was... too entangled, defined by others. It was a constant need for him, to go beyond his limits. He would always do so, - but never for himself. Optimus would, consequently, not keep going, should Prowl cease to function. Their connection was the last thread of a web now torn; leaving gaping holes behind were once others had existed.
Such terrifying, wonderful selflessness - truly the sign of a leader. Blessing once, it was now a curse, since all seemed lost.
A shame. - He was so young, compared to Prowl...
What did Optimus truly know about life? What had he seen and experienced of it, aside from his training in the Elite Guard and his time as leader of a space bridge repair crew? Aside from war, that is. Optimus had just enough good memories saved in his processor to haunt him now.
It was ironic, but the only word to describe this situation, that Prowl could come up with, was ‘unfair’. He was darkly amused to use it in this context; when a world was warped beyond recognition and would surely soon end, be it the whole of this planet or a young spark.
Seeing the only option left with the detached clarity only meditation could offer him, surrounded by chaos, as he was, Prowl knew what to do.
It wasn't much. - And it was certainly no sacrifice on his part, although, back at the beginning, he would certainly have thought so and fought with all he had against it.
Prowl would have to live for Optimus’ sake, as grand as that sounded, it was a simple thing to do. There was no choice left, just acceptance; what is, is. - In a way, he had known this outcome all along.
On another plane of existence, Prowl was elated, in a chilly way. It was like... to wake up from your life, only to realize that you had lived a dream within a dream. And, maybe, in truth, it was a nightmare...
And you had to wonder, waking up: A nightmare? Was it now or then, here or there? Or did you just not see that it was something entirely different?
Prowl could still feel the lingering trace of Optimus’ spark energy, swirling in his own systems, after their alignment. He had gotten used to it, as time passed, to the not so foreign presence of another; the whole process came natural now, easy and... welcome.
And he could almost still feel the touch of a heavy frame on his own, a warm weight, suffused with a kind spark; cracked by pressure but persistently reaching for Prowls own...
Was there less importance to it because it was artificially created and an attempt spurred on by desperation, rather than true attraction and choice?
To Prowl, it wasn't.
The basic component of every kind of relationship was always the need to shake off the crushing loneliness. Granted, it was more complex than that, but not as much as most romantic ‘bots cared to admit.
In a way, it was enough for Prowl. Now, the only question left was if it was the same to Optimus or if he had misinterpreted the signs which went deeper than seeking solace...
But, one thing was clear to him: Being trapped in this way would be far more... pleasant than the deathtrap which was made up by the whole of Earth.
BREAK
The shift within the cave alerted Prowl some breems later and he went back inside immediately. Weary, wide optics greeted him in the twilight, as he rounded the natural barrier of an old rockslide.
Seeing him, Optimus frame slumped with something akin to relief: ”I thought... that you had left.”
The dull words echoed heavily in the enclosed space and Prowl wondered for a moment what he could do to lay that fear to rest; feeling sorely unequipped to share his recent insight in mere words.
Faint disgust curled around his spark at his hesitance and he moved determinedly closer, to touch Optimus’ spark chamber with careful, slow precision. He smiled at him, more open than ever before, not aware that, to an observer, the expression would seem twisted by the ugliness all around.
”I will never leave.”
Optimus desperate reaction was Prowls answer to a question not spoken out loud.
...
...
...
Some orn, they would no longer be able to hit and run and hide.
That orn would come, sooner, rather than later. - But discovering something less dark in a dying world, neither ‘bot cared. And, although foolish, that faint light gave them some hope.
(Foolish, because hope is the greatest torture one can endure).
END
Part 5