After a deep and therapeutic recharge cycle, Optimus Prime awoke to the sensation that he was being watched. Somebody had sat with him all night. He powered up his optic sensors, fully expecting to see Rodimus, but his visitor was someone else entirely. “Andromeda,” he croaked. “I… I wasn't expecting you to come….”
“I wasn't sure I should,” she stammered, looking away. “I know you're weak, but I need to know the truth.” She approached the medical berth so that she could face him squarely. “What you said to me… was it true?” She was trembling inside, so afraid of the answer.
Optimus was speechless for a moment. She had stayed with him for some time. Perhaps he was being given a second chance! He reached his hand out weakly, and she clasped it with her own. “It was a lie, Andromeda. Every word. I love you with every fiber of my being. Alita was a wonderful femme, but her time is past. You have earned a place in my heart just by being yourself.”
“Why did you do it?”
The simple, innocent question bit into him, and he grimaced, looking at their entwined hands. “Please forgive me,” he pleaded. “I know I said some very terrible and hurtful things to you. I did so with only the very best intentions.” He pulled his hand free, only to caress her beautiful face. “You know that it has taken me over a century to make peace with Alita's memory. When I found out that I was dying, I desperately wanted to spare you such pain. I sincerely hoped that, if I could diminish your affection for me, that my passing would be easier for you to bear. There is a saying on Earth: 'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions'. I now see more so than ever how true that is.”
“That's why you pushed me away?” she whispered, caressing his head. “You wanted to spare me from mourning? Optimus, you are a wonderful leader, but sometimes you can make some very stupid decisions. How do you think I would have felt if you had died alone, with no one to comfort you? Do you think I would have ever forgiven myself for allowing you to push me away, just when you needed me the most? I know you were trying to ease the parting blow, but had you succeeded, it would have made things so much worse!”
“I… I'm sorry, Ani,” he whispered, cupping her chin with fading strength. “I badly misjudged you. I hope you can forgive me for my actions, for I doubt I can ever forgive myself.” His hand dropped weakly, and she caught it in both of her own.
“Don't start that crap, Optimus! You always beat yourself up over the smallest things. We've still got a little bit of time together, and that will have to be enough. I want you to draw whatever strength from me that you can. I want to be by your side through this.”
He marveled once again, as she removed his mask to kiss him, how lucky he was to have her.
Prime's condition declined rapidly from then on, as one by one, systems were corroded into uselessness. Ratchet and First Aid had to connect more and more of his life functions to artificial support. Optimus did his best to visit with his closest friends, but his strength was rapidly dwindling. The entire medical and science divisions busied themselves with finding a cure, but it was apparent that none was in sight.
The Autobots, filled with a sense of righteous rage, had declared war on the Quintessons. The five-faced aliens had believed that they understood the programming of their creations, but this time they were taken totally by surprise. As if anticipating such an event, Optimus Prime begged Rodimus to make sure that his soldiers operated under the Autobot code. Attack the enemy, weaken them, destroy their defenses, but do not annihilate them. The Quintessons could be cruel and heartless, but they were not trained warriors.
The scientists fell to the captured and plundered Quintesson spacecrafts eagerly. Any hope for a cure was quickly dashed. The Quints simply had not wanted the cosmic rust infection to be cured, so they had not invented one. Worse, they found several plots to destroy the Autobot leaders, including a very deadly bomb that could be implanted in a robot and would explode when it came in the vicinity of Matrix energy. There was a flaw in the casing, which proved to be a minor miracle. If the Quintessons had implanted the bomb within Optimus, it would have destroyed both Autobot leaders, and presumably the Matrix as well.
Optimus Prime forced himself to keep up with current events, but a sense of apathy and detachment began to form, no doubt due to the massive amounts of narcotic painkillers that were being pumped into his decaying body. He could no longer control his own pain receptors. First Aid had once protested the amount of anamorphine being pumped into Prime's chassis, but Ratchet only gave him a meaningful look. What did it matter if Optimus became addicted to the medication, if he would be dead within less than a week? Better to make the rest of his existence as pain-free as possible.
Ratchet discussed the subject of death freely with Optimus Prime, both of them having experienced it and returned from the Matrix. Ratchet himself had no memories of being inside the Matrix, but he strongly suspected that Optimus did. The CMO was very glad that he did not remember, for Optimus seemed haunted by the memory. For awhile, it seemed that he had wanted to return. Now he would have no choice.
In spite of Ratchet's and First Aid's best efforts, Optimus Prime's body rusted away until it was practically non-functional. Almost as a cruel joke, his mind remained sharp and unaffected, only a bit fuzzy from the anamorphine. He fervently wished that the cosmic rust would hurry up and do its job. Being cognizant of what was happening to him was unbearable. His body was utterly useless, and despite the drugs, he could still feel pain from every malfunctioning circuit. The medics had covered his rust-eroded body with a sheet to hide it from view. The only thing he could move was his head, and only slightly.
Optimus lay in medbay, the lights dimmed, feeling helplessness and despair smothering him. He wanted more than anything to just die and be released from the torture chamber that had become his body. It would not be long now, but every minute seemed like an eternity.
Nothing moved except the tears that streaked down his weary faceplate. Ratchet had left his battle mask in place, sparing the only shred of dignity he had left. His situation was intolerable. He simply couldn't imagine a worse fate. He understood that everything had a purpose, but if it was his fate to die, why could it not be in battle, or at least to some kind of fast-acting illness or accident? This protracted death was Hell itself. 'Have I transgressed, Primus?' he silently implored his god. 'Have I offended you in some way that has earned this living death?'
Something moved in the shadows. A hand reached out to gently wipe the tears away. Instantly, he knew. Rodimus had come to say goodbye. “I told Ratchet I wanted no more visitors,” Optimus said hoarsely, embarrassed.
“I snuck by him,” Rodimus confessed. “I can feel what you are going through and don't want you to suffer alone.”
“I'm sorry, Rodimus.” The tears flowed faster, in spite of himself. He cursed them – they were the one thing he could control, and now even that was beyond him! “This suffering is mine alone to bear. I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone.”
“But I am proud to bear this burden with you!” Rodimus protested. “I want to give you whatever strength I have.”
Optimus took comfort in his dear friend's presence. There was something about Rodimus Prime that was reassuring and calming. It felt good to have someone reach out to him. Through the years, Roddy had skillfully circumvented every defense mechanism he'd had as if it were nothing at all. Optimus had been desperately afraid to let anyone get that close – he had lost so many good friends and no longer wanted to open himself to that vulnerability – but Roddy had been such a great friend that Optimus never regretted it. He was his confessor, his confidante. There was nothing he could not share that Rodimus would not understand.
They talked of nothing in particular: current events, some new jokes that Roddy had heard, how the new war with the Quintessons was going. It was quite likely that the Quints would not be causing trouble for a long, long time. As time wore on, however, it became harder and harder for Optimus to ignore the pain that radiated through him like a fire. He wondered how he could feel such terrible agony and still live. He prayed that Ratchet would come with some painkillers, soon!
Prime noted miserably that Rodimus was indeed sharing his pain, his friend's optics dimmed. He felt even worse knowing that his personal agony was hurting someone that he cared about so much. Roddy felt guilty about not being able to help, Optimus knew, but just having him there was a comfort. Rodimus had tried to use the Matrix to cure the Autobot leader, but Optimus had already known that it would fail. It seemed to be his destiny to join the Matrix once more, and the Matrix itself would not intervene.
Rodimus touched his face tenderly, and he turned his head as much as he could to gaze upon his friend one last time. Pain blurred his vision slightly, and he wished more than anything for the burning sensation wracking his vegetative body to stop.
“Optimus, I feel your pain,” Roddy said softly, and Optimus clung to those words, using them to push away the agony that wracked him. “It's not fair that you should suffer this way. Not even Galvatron deserves this. I've been hoping so hard that I could help you somehow. But maybe there is something that I could do for you, if you wish.” He leaned over, his face set grimly. “I know where Ratchet keeps the supply of anesthetismol. I could get some with no problem. I'd do anything, anything at all, to help you.”
Optimus was simply speechless with gratitude. The compound was used on severely damaged Autobots who could not operate their pain suppressors. In large quantities, it could kill. He was quite sure that it would not take much in his current condition. Rodimus was offering him a peaceful, painless release from this mockery of life. And yet… and yet he could not accept. Rodimus would have to bear the burden of his decision. Rodimus was a great lover of life, real life, and understood that quality of life was more important than quantity. Though the others sincerely wanted him to recover, many of them were simply afraid of what would happen if he died. Their desire to cure him was, in a way, selfish. Rodimus was the most selfless being he knew and would rather release him from life than see him suffer needlessly. Optimus knew that this action would take a terrible toll on Roddy, who had already been scarred by this terrible war. It was not the first time that he had been asked to make such a terrible decision.
Optimus thought back to the awful battle nearly thirty years ago. Same scenario, same combatants, same tired excuses. Only this time, Firebolt, Rodimus' Targetmaster component, was struck dead-on by a concussion blast. Even his tough armor was not enough to spare the young Nebulan from grievous damage. As the Decepticons retreated, he lay dying on the ground, nearly eviscerated. It was some sort of twisted luck that he was not already dead, but everyone present knew that there was no hope for his survival, and left Rodimus alone to say goodbye. The young Prime could tell that his Targetmster partner was in extreme agony. Firebolt begged him to end his life and spare him any further suffering. Rodimus had caressed the Nebulan's green face with affection, then, as gently as he could, snapped his neck, providing him the release he so desperately needed. Optimus knew how Roddy had been haunted by his actions, that he still awoke from recharge, the snapping of the bones echoing in his processor. No, he could not ask Rodimus to make that decision again.
“Roddy, I am grateful beyond words, but I can't ask you to do that for me. I know you couldn't live with yourself afterward. Do not worry about me. It won't be much longer now.” His optics were warm with love and gratitude.
Rodimus cradled his head close, tears of his own falling on Prime's face. Roddy paid them no mind, never concerned with expressing emotion. It was yet another thing that Optimus found so endearing. “I'll miss you!” he choked out. “I don't know how I'll survive without you, but I'll sure try. I'll make you proud of me, I promise!”
Optimus wished that he could hold his friend and comfort him, but it was all he could do to make his vocal module function. “I love you, Roddy.” It wasn't platonic love, and it wasn't amorous love. It even went beyond paternal love. It was love for a soul mate, somebody who understood him so thoroughly that sometimes no words were necessary.
A smile creased Roddy's worried faceplate. “I love you too, Optimus.” As always, he understood perfectly. He leaned forward and gently kissed him on the white diamond strip on his forehead. The young Autobot turned to go, sensing his friend's weakening state. He paused in the doorway, turning to flash Optimus a radiant smile. “I'll see you later.”
“See you later, Roddy.” When or where was of no consequence. They would meet again.