Trick or Treat
Title: Rare Pairing Halloween Trick or Treat Challenge
Rating: PG-13
Series: TFA
Pairings/Prompt: TFA - Prowl/Optimus - trick: "betrayal"
Other characters: Ratchet, Bulkhead, Jazz
Warnings: Spoilers for season 3. Canon death. Detailed grieving. Maybe triggering.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but Hasbro's.
Authors Notes: Unbeta'd.
I'm really not happy with the ending, but it seemed to be an okay place to cut.
Optimus fell onto the seat in Omega’s cargo bay, the the only safe retreat on the whole planet. His friends knew what he needed and left him to go after the ceremony. He dropped his head, burying his face in his hands.
Trembling he sat there, the presence of the coffin weighing on him, although he hadn’t really looked at what was inside since the time they had laid Prowl to rest. He just couldn’t. And he still couldn’t.
He would gather his courage later to look up, when he wasn’t falling apart on the inside. But he needed to.
The Allspark Matrix clinked softly against his chest, but carrying the artifact offered him little comfort. He would later hand it over to the council, with a prick of worry about if they really would have it taken back to its proper place in Cybertron’s core. Ratchet didn’t trust them and Optimus spotted the truth in his rants. He also trusted Ratchet.
That prick withered so fast he couldn’t even try to deceive himself that he cared. He just felt so empty, the Matrix hung heavily on the chain around his neck, and every klik fed that time into the Allspark, pulling him down.
Every step he took towards this particular room pulled him down even deeper, almost to his knees. He couldn’t escape, as if the Allspark and his own spark were caught in the gravity of a black hole. A black hole that was centered in the empty chest of a grey chassis. Once a mech whose serene expression would never changed again.
Optimus gasped as pressure squeezed around his spark. He uncurled from where he was hunched over himself, gulping in pants of air. His vents were whirring in strain to cool him, yet he shivered. So much for not falling apart.
He chuckled, a bitter sound. What a hero he was. Moping around in a closed room while Cybertron celebrated the biggest victory since the end of the Great War. He should have been elated. Relieved. Happy. No more the threat of an invasion or a fifth war. No more fear of Megatron. No more fighting with too few supplies and outnumbered against the best of the Decepticons.
Everything should be okay.
Except that not everybot was.
“This is your fault.”
Optimus watched his lap, blind to the Allspark’s glow.
“You imagine how many bots watched us? They all greeted Omega Supreme when he came through the space bridge, hailing us as heroes. Most of all me.”
He scoffed bitterly.
“All it took was carrying the Allspark around my neck and the video footage. They showered us with praise and speeches and I learnt just why my speeches always annoyed you. But you know what? They quickly forgot about Ratchet. They forgot about Arcee and Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Jazz and Sari. They forgot they fought against the Lugnut Supremes too, that they were vital in defeating Megatron and the others.”
He closed his hands into fists on his thighs, but it did nothing to stop the shaking.
“And most of all, they forgot about you.”
Optimus couldn’t stand the silence anymore, neither sitting still in this cargo bay; secluded, isolated, alone. He sat up and started walking back and forth.
“Alpha Trion, Cliffjumper, the whole council acted as if I had brought them down on my own.”
He whirled on the tip of his pede, his steps taking him closer and closer to the platform as he kept doing his circles.
“As if it was only because of me Megatron didn’t invade Cybertron after he would have obliterated Detroit.”
His voice grew louder as the room’s emptiness echoed back, pressing on him, filling him with the need to fill it. He was just so angry and hurting and tired and why wouldn’t his spark. Stop. Aching.
“As if it was because of me that captured him as well as Shockwave, Lugnut and the others.”
Still louder. The pressure in his chest burnt and climbed into his head.
“As if it was because of me that we won.”
It filled his head that he thought he might burst when he clutched harder at his helmet, finger tips digging dents into the metal. He had to shut off his optics, because the light stoked the ache.
“As if I was the reason that we’re still alive.”
It just wasn’t fair. Why wasn’t it ever fair?
“And that is a LIE!”
His palms slammed onto the coffin’s lid.
“I’m not supposed to be the hero. I was fighting Megatron, but if it hadn’t been for you and Jazz, nothing of that would have mattered. We all would have died.
“The only reason that anybot out there is still standing is because of you! That my team, my crew, my friends could set pede on the planet instead of being metal dust is because you slagging had to sacrifice YOURSELF!!!”
The moment Optimus’ optics blazed online, he wished he had kept them off.
Prowl serenely gazed up at him, arms crossed in front of his chest. The transparent cover created the illusion that the Prime was able to stretch his fingers inside, touch the grey chassis. The only other times he had been so close to Prowl’s face were when their arguments escalated so much they invaded each other personal areas, and Optimus never had the processor in these moments to regard his expressions closer.
That slack mouth that always hid a sharp tongue, but also wise words and encouragements. Those black optics that narrowed and tilted and, sometimes, glittered with mischief. How many times had the ninja driven him mad just with a derisive curl of his lips when they used to butt their heads? How many times did the way his optics narrowed, widened or evaded contact tell more about his feelings than his whole body?
But. No recognition came. The mouth stayed a line. No spark-blue light flickered on at the racket Optimus had made.
This was only a shell. A perfectly fine body, but only a shell whose face couldn’t look serene.
Prowl’s spark was gone. Optimus had seen his ghost, had felt his fingers touch his arm… The Allspark’s weight sunk a micron deeper.
Agony broke over.
He reared his fists back up and he slammed the lid again. And again. And again.
Pain ran up from his fingers, sensors screamed, warning messages flashed that he ignored. The Allspark Matrix thunked with each pound against his chest.
Again. Again. Again.
Why couldn’t anything be just simple for once? Just a straight victory? Just a happy ending like from those fairy tales Sari had read them to?
But no, the universe wouldn’t allow that for Optimus. Not now, not in the past since Elita, not in the future. Not ever. He never wanted to have his spark broken again by a loved one when they died. That’s why he had sheltered himself. That’s why he stayed distant so often with his emotions, even towards his friends.
Yet his own spark had betrayed him.
He threw his head back with a howl of desperation, anger, denial and grief that streamed out of him in an unstoppable torrent. With a last lurch, he threw his full weight onto the coffin. The coffin slid a small distance across the platform under a loud ring that melted into Optimus’ processor. He panted, hunched over on his elbows that were as weak as his shaking legs. His fingers curled into the cover, etching jittering marks along the seams. But despite the truck’s punches, the cover was unblemished as before and Prowl’s body had stayed as it was.
The Allspark started glowing. Soft blue light cast across the ninja’s features, catching in the lenses of his optics. They seemed to look at him.
Optimus realized that it wasn’t the impact on the coffin that caused the sound. A nanoklik later he realized it wasn’t the ringing of metal either.
“You promised.” He forced out in his keening. “You promised t-to be at my side. But you left. I can-can’t-”
He cradled his head, thunking his head against the cover right over Prowl’s head.
“This i-is not fair. It’s not fair.”
--
“He’s only in recharge.” Ratchet gruffly stated, but all edges smoothened under his fallen optics. He pulled with Jazz on either side of Optimus’ shoulders so that he wouldn’t wake up. Bulkhead accepted him in his arms.
“I’ll still bring him into the med-day.” He easily lifted the truck against his chest, where he cradled him protectively. “The only place where we have some berths.”
“You do that.” Ratchet pinched the middle of his chevron, tired. “Stay close so he won’t wake up alone. Kid probably needs company now.”
“I’ll come with you.” Jazz volunteered. He patted the coffin, saying good-bye, before he followed the others.
Rating: PG-13
Series: TFA
Pairings/Prompt: TFA - Prowl/Optimus - trick: "betrayal"
Other characters: Ratchet, Bulkhead, Jazz
Warnings: Spoilers for season 3. Canon death. Detailed grieving. Maybe triggering.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but Hasbro's.
Authors Notes: Unbeta'd.
I'm really not happy with the ending, but it seemed to be an okay place to cut.
Optimus fell onto the seat in Omega’s cargo bay, the the only safe retreat on the whole planet. His friends knew what he needed and left him to go after the ceremony. He dropped his head, burying his face in his hands.
Trembling he sat there, the presence of the coffin weighing on him, although he hadn’t really looked at what was inside since the time they had laid Prowl to rest. He just couldn’t. And he still couldn’t.
He would gather his courage later to look up, when he wasn’t falling apart on the inside. But he needed to.
The Allspark Matrix clinked softly against his chest, but carrying the artifact offered him little comfort. He would later hand it over to the council, with a prick of worry about if they really would have it taken back to its proper place in Cybertron’s core. Ratchet didn’t trust them and Optimus spotted the truth in his rants. He also trusted Ratchet.
That prick withered so fast he couldn’t even try to deceive himself that he cared. He just felt so empty, the Matrix hung heavily on the chain around his neck, and every klik fed that time into the Allspark, pulling him down.
Every step he took towards this particular room pulled him down even deeper, almost to his knees. He couldn’t escape, as if the Allspark and his own spark were caught in the gravity of a black hole. A black hole that was centered in the empty chest of a grey chassis. Once a mech whose serene expression would never changed again.
Optimus gasped as pressure squeezed around his spark. He uncurled from where he was hunched over himself, gulping in pants of air. His vents were whirring in strain to cool him, yet he shivered. So much for not falling apart.
He chuckled, a bitter sound. What a hero he was. Moping around in a closed room while Cybertron celebrated the biggest victory since the end of the Great War. He should have been elated. Relieved. Happy. No more the threat of an invasion or a fifth war. No more fear of Megatron. No more fighting with too few supplies and outnumbered against the best of the Decepticons.
Everything should be okay.
Except that not everybot was.
“This is your fault.”
Optimus watched his lap, blind to the Allspark’s glow.
“You imagine how many bots watched us? They all greeted Omega Supreme when he came through the space bridge, hailing us as heroes. Most of all me.”
He scoffed bitterly.
“All it took was carrying the Allspark around my neck and the video footage. They showered us with praise and speeches and I learnt just why my speeches always annoyed you. But you know what? They quickly forgot about Ratchet. They forgot about Arcee and Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Jazz and Sari. They forgot they fought against the Lugnut Supremes too, that they were vital in defeating Megatron and the others.”
He closed his hands into fists on his thighs, but it did nothing to stop the shaking.
“And most of all, they forgot about you.”
Optimus couldn’t stand the silence anymore, neither sitting still in this cargo bay; secluded, isolated, alone. He sat up and started walking back and forth.
“Alpha Trion, Cliffjumper, the whole council acted as if I had brought them down on my own.”
He whirled on the tip of his pede, his steps taking him closer and closer to the platform as he kept doing his circles.
“As if it was only because of me Megatron didn’t invade Cybertron after he would have obliterated Detroit.”
His voice grew louder as the room’s emptiness echoed back, pressing on him, filling him with the need to fill it. He was just so angry and hurting and tired and why wouldn’t his spark. Stop. Aching.
“As if it was because of me that captured him as well as Shockwave, Lugnut and the others.”
Still louder. The pressure in his chest burnt and climbed into his head.
“As if it was because of me that we won.”
It filled his head that he thought he might burst when he clutched harder at his helmet, finger tips digging dents into the metal. He had to shut off his optics, because the light stoked the ache.
“As if I was the reason that we’re still alive.”
It just wasn’t fair. Why wasn’t it ever fair?
“And that is a LIE!”
His palms slammed onto the coffin’s lid.
“I’m not supposed to be the hero. I was fighting Megatron, but if it hadn’t been for you and Jazz, nothing of that would have mattered. We all would have died.
“The only reason that anybot out there is still standing is because of you! That my team, my crew, my friends could set pede on the planet instead of being metal dust is because you slagging had to sacrifice YOURSELF!!!”
The moment Optimus’ optics blazed online, he wished he had kept them off.
Prowl serenely gazed up at him, arms crossed in front of his chest. The transparent cover created the illusion that the Prime was able to stretch his fingers inside, touch the grey chassis. The only other times he had been so close to Prowl’s face were when their arguments escalated so much they invaded each other personal areas, and Optimus never had the processor in these moments to regard his expressions closer.
That slack mouth that always hid a sharp tongue, but also wise words and encouragements. Those black optics that narrowed and tilted and, sometimes, glittered with mischief. How many times had the ninja driven him mad just with a derisive curl of his lips when they used to butt their heads? How many times did the way his optics narrowed, widened or evaded contact tell more about his feelings than his whole body?
But. No recognition came. The mouth stayed a line. No spark-blue light flickered on at the racket Optimus had made.
This was only a shell. A perfectly fine body, but only a shell whose face couldn’t look serene.
Prowl’s spark was gone. Optimus had seen his ghost, had felt his fingers touch his arm… The Allspark’s weight sunk a micron deeper.
Agony broke over.
He reared his fists back up and he slammed the lid again. And again. And again.
Pain ran up from his fingers, sensors screamed, warning messages flashed that he ignored. The Allspark Matrix thunked with each pound against his chest.
Again. Again. Again.
Why couldn’t anything be just simple for once? Just a straight victory? Just a happy ending like from those fairy tales Sari had read them to?
But no, the universe wouldn’t allow that for Optimus. Not now, not in the past since Elita, not in the future. Not ever. He never wanted to have his spark broken again by a loved one when they died. That’s why he had sheltered himself. That’s why he stayed distant so often with his emotions, even towards his friends.
Yet his own spark had betrayed him.
He threw his head back with a howl of desperation, anger, denial and grief that streamed out of him in an unstoppable torrent. With a last lurch, he threw his full weight onto the coffin. The coffin slid a small distance across the platform under a loud ring that melted into Optimus’ processor. He panted, hunched over on his elbows that were as weak as his shaking legs. His fingers curled into the cover, etching jittering marks along the seams. But despite the truck’s punches, the cover was unblemished as before and Prowl’s body had stayed as it was.
The Allspark started glowing. Soft blue light cast across the ninja’s features, catching in the lenses of his optics. They seemed to look at him.
Optimus realized that it wasn’t the impact on the coffin that caused the sound. A nanoklik later he realized it wasn’t the ringing of metal either.
“You promised.” He forced out in his keening. “You promised t-to be at my side. But you left. I can-can’t-”
He cradled his head, thunking his head against the cover right over Prowl’s head.
“This i-is not fair. It’s not fair.”
--
“He’s only in recharge.” Ratchet gruffly stated, but all edges smoothened under his fallen optics. He pulled with Jazz on either side of Optimus’ shoulders so that he wouldn’t wake up. Bulkhead accepted him in his arms.
“I’ll still bring him into the med-day.” He easily lifted the truck against his chest, where he cradled him protectively. “The only place where we have some berths.”
“You do that.” Ratchet pinched the middle of his chevron, tired. “Stay close so he won’t wake up alone. Kid probably needs company now.”
“I’ll come with you.” Jazz volunteered. He patted the coffin, saying good-bye, before he followed the others.