Gospel of Judas (2)
The situation worsened every day.
Prowl thought this was easy to see, but did nothing to stop the victory party. There were so few, lately. He only wished that Elita-1 hadn’t seen fit to visit their little base of operations during it.
“Ah tell ya, ain’t nothing like kickin’ some Decepticons back to Unicron, eh Prime?” Ironhide grinned and elbowed Optimus jovially. Prowl watched from across the room as Optimus looked down fondly at his comrade, and the tactician wondered why no one else noticed the slightly pained expression in those optics. Ironhide, normally so acutely aware of his Prime’s moods, was too far gone in celebratory zealotry to see.
Therefore, it came as a surprise to see Elita-1 step in and take his place at Prime’s side, leaning in close to offer what was apparently a soothing word, judging from the way Prime’s expression softened and his frame relaxed into her touch.
Prowl did not linger on the brief stab of jealousy that took hold of his system, though he did take a step away from the wall he was lingering near, moving closer to the pair as Ironhide wandered back into the crowd, stirring the rest of the Autobots into more of a frenzy than before. Prowl saw Optimus look a little too long at rifles that were raised into the air as the crowd cheered, emboldened by the rush of victory, however small. Elita-1 gently turned his head away to focus more on her as she soothingly rubbed the base of the antennae gracing Prime’s head.
“I shouldn’t begrudge them,” Optimus was admitting quietly, so quietly that Prowl had to strain to hear him over the noise, even as close as he had gotten to the isolated pair. “But sometimes I wonder… They need an outlet of course, we all do, but it all comes at a price… too high a price…”
“Shh,” Elita-1 cooed. “You think too much. Just enjoy this little bit of peace while it lasts. Try to relax.”
“You’re right.” But Optimus couldn’t seem to stop looking at the Autobots. Just as Prowl was about to take his leave, Prime spoke again. “When did we go wrong?” Prowl froze.
“What do you mean?” Elita-1 asked, frowning as her thin fingers petted at the antennae.
“We are meant to be fighting for peace,” Optimus continued, voice a little despairing. “Yet every time I dare to look, all I see is more violence. Is it even possible, Elita? Waging war to achieve peace? It seems a cruel joke…”
Elita-1 had no answer for him.
“And all the time, Cybertron suffers for us. What has happened, Elita? What have we done?”
“Hush, Optimus. Try not to worry. It will do you no good.”
Prowl watched with bright optics as Elita-1 guided their Prime away from the celebration, into seclusion once more.
It was coincidence that brought Prowl through the corridor at the same time Elita-1 was leaving. She paused, clearly evaluating him, and so he returned the favor with a significant look towards the Prime’s private quarters, shielded by a door too flimsy to hold back all the secrets within.
“Prowl,” she said, and he supposed it was good that her tone was neutral, if guarded. He nodded his head in assent. “Elita-1. Have you finished with our Prime?”
It was petty. He knew that as well as she apparently did. Her face became as carefully blank as his, but it seemed more disdainful on her features.
“You speak of him as if he’s community property,” she warned him. “It’s no wonder he is so starved for comfort.”
The implications shot through Prowl like a shell casing. Despite having insinuated it himself, hearing the possibility of intimacy from her felt like she had physically attacked him. It was this that made him lose his hard-earned self-control. It was this that made him lash out.
“He’s not the only one in need of comforting.”
Elita-1 merely gave him a look, one that almost made him regret saying it. But then she was gone, brushing brusquely past him to get to the shuttle that would take her back to her own base.
Prowl watched her go. When he turned back around, Optimus was lingering in the now open doorway of his quarters, optics a peculiar white-blue.
“… Prime…” was all the stunned tactician could manage. He reached towards Optimus, perhaps out of some instinct to ask forgiveness through a touch, asking for acceptance -
The door closed again, sealing Optimus Prime away from him.