Come What May

by Phantom (phantom1313 at tfrid dot com)


Chapter Twelve

The gravel crunched under his tires, the wind whipped past his frame as he flew at top speed over the hill, tires squealing as he made a sharp turn. Optimus finally understood why Rodimus loved to race. It really did help to blow off steam. The speed, the wind whipping at him, served to invigorate him. On the horizon, the first cracks of daylight began to break through the starry night sky. He transformed to robot mode and sat at the road's edge, his legs dangling over the massive precipice, watching the sun rise. Dawn on Earth never failed to amaze him with its beauty. He watched in awe as the glowing sphere of the sun rose majestically in the sky, radiating golden rays into the heavens. It pained him to think that such visions would soon be lost to him forever. Turning away, suddenly finding the sight painful, he transformed and raced further away from Autobot City.

One month. One month to live! How could such a thing be? He, who had lived for so long, should be ready to accept Death when it came for him. Had it come a century ago, he would have welcomed it with open arms, ready to surrender his mortal existence. But that was before. Before Rodimus, and before Andromeda.

“Why?” he asked the heavens, but there was no response. Why now? After he had finally gotten his life back on track, after he had finally found happiness once more, why now? It all seemed so unfair. Not that life was ever fair. He knew that all too well.

It was selfish of him to want to keep living, he knew. Nine million years was nearly incomprehensible to many species in the galaxy. But Transformers, given the chance to live out their lives without the threat of war, could live far longer than that. Sometimes he felt unspeakably old, but that was from the experiences he'd had more than the number of years. His desire to survive was not quite selfish, however. He feared for the survival of the Autobots. Rodimus would do a wonderful job on his own, he knew, but the task was too great for him to bear alone. He was very close to his second-in-command, closer than he'd ever believed he could get to anyone.

His spark ached within his chest casing. He could not afford to be weak, not now! Not when he had so little time left. He could not confide in a single soul. Then the terrible secret of his fate would be out, and everyone would stare at him with pity. He did not want to be remembered that way! This cross was his to bear, alone.

Reluctantly, he turned back to Autobot City to catch the next shuttle back to Cybertron. He had put this off long enough. It was merely the first of many such soul-wrenching tasks that fell to him. He would hate himself for it, but it was for the best.

Optimus spent the next few hours isolated in his quarters, meditating, trying to gather the mental fortitude to do what had to be done. 'I must do this now, or I will never have the courage to do it again.' With a trembling hand he activated his communicator and summoned Andromeda to his quarters.

The femme showed up in record time. Optimus was half-hoping that she would be late, giving him the smallest of reprieves. He let her in without a word. She looked at him, confused by his aloof manner. Why had he called her here, when he knew that her shift started soon? It just wasn't like him. “Optimus, is there something wrong?” she pressed. “I know we haven't had time to really talk since you were rescued. I feel terrible for what happened back on Junkion. I'd do anything to make it up to you.”

Optimus Prime mentally steeled himself, taking his feelings and stuffing them deep, deep inside himself. Sentiment would only get in the way now. “That is not what I brought you here to discuss… Lieutenant.” The femme's optics grew wide. He was treating her as just another grunt! He was pushing her away!

“Then… what did you want to discuss, Optimus… sir?” she stammered, the whole situation unnerving her. Oh, he really must be mad at her!

Optimus ignored the tiny voice that screamed at him to end this, to refrain from hurting her. He pushed it aside roughly. There would be plenty of time for recriminations later. “After some careful consideration, I have decided to reanimate a select few warriors that have lain dormant. Alita One will be among those warriors. As such, I no longer have any need for your companionship”

Andromeda took an involuntary step back, clapping her hand over her mouth in horror. Tears sprang to her optics, and she fought them. “You – you just wanted me as a substitute for Alita?” she choked. “But Optimus, I thought we had something together! I thought you loved me!” The tears escaped and began to trickle down her faceplate.

His soul wrenched within him at the sight of her tears. 'Not now!' he told himself firmly. 'This must be seen through to the end!' Aloud he said, “Perhaps I thought I did at one point. But with Alita's imminent return, I see that it is untrue. She is my one and only, the most incredible femme in the universe. You can't hope to even compare to her. I'm sorry to have deceived you. Now you are free to go and explore other relationships. Nothing holds you to me any longer.”

With a choked cry, she turned and fled his quarters, desperate to escape the harsh words that seared her. Optimus watched her go, his soul tearing to shreds. 'It had to be done!' he told himself fiercely. 'It is much better to let her go now and spare her the suffering that she would feel if she still loved me once I have passed on. She'll get over it.' But his heart would have none of it, screaming for her to come back to his arms. How could he get through the coming weeks without her?

Overwhelmed with grief and self-hatred, he collapsed to his knees. He felt quite sick and wondered if he was going to be ill. It didn't matter, nothing mattered! The wall that he had built to contain his emotions exploded outward, and he hunched over on the floor, sobs wracking his body. It was weak of him, he knew, but he could not stop it. “I'm sorry!” he cried. “I'm so sorry!” He hoped that Primus could forgive him, for he knew he never could forgive himself.

Two weeks passed, and as Ratchet had predicted, the pain had increased a little more every day. His affliction should have been easy to cure! He had even suffered from it before! Cosmic rust. Megatron had contracted it from a meteor in deep space and had thoughtfully shared it with the Autobots on Earth. They had managed to cure the affliction with an invention of Perceptor's called Corrostop. The Quintessons, it seemed, had been unwilling to rely on just one experiment to rid the universe of the Autobots and had seized upon the metallic plague. Knowing of Corrostop, they had mutated the disease to resist it, but in doing so had unwittingly made it incommunicable. Ratchet conjectured that the Quints had infected Optimus Prime with the hopes of spreading the illness and wiping out the entire Autobot army, but their own tinkering with the plague had foiled their efforts. Optimus Prime would be the only victim.

Ratchet was the only one that knew of Optimus' affliction. Optimus had sworn him to absolute secrecy, and Ratchet was bound to uphold the precepts of doctor-patient confidentiality. First Aid, he knew, had become quite concerned, but there was not a single thing he could do to ask for help. Optimus' frequent visits to medbay had certainly been noticed by the Protectobot medic. Optimus required daily cryogenic treatments to slow the cosmic rust, which required heat to spread. Without them, he would not survive much longer than a week. The treatments, as it were, did little more than buy him time to set his affairs in order. He had already started to give away some of his most prized possessions and battle trophies. Rodimus had received a massive saber that he had always admired, and Ultra Magnus had received a double-sided halibut, similar to the one that Earth's medieval knights had carried.

Optimus sat at his desk in his office, oblivious to his computer or the data pads awaiting his attention. His thoughts were far, far away from his work. His hand lovingly caressed the large black laser rifle that lay in his lap. It was an excellent weapon that had served him faithfully. Now, perhaps, it would help him one last time.

He hefted it and looked straight down the barrel, staring at the inky blackness within. How many Decepticons had this mighty weapon felled? Now it would be the instrument of his destruction as well. He pressed it against his forehead and wrapped his finger around the trigger. He sat there for several minutes, gathering his strength. Could he really do it? Could he really pull the trigger and take his own life? He had tried several times before, when depression had come and wrapped him in a seductive cloak of darkness, but something had stopped him. The last time that he had tried this, the Matrix itself had intervened. Would it do so now, or would it give him release from this miserable existence? The pain was not unbearable as of yet, but it was fast approaching that point. Ratchet, out of respect for his old friend, had not sugarcoated his fate. He would gradually lose control of all of his systems, one painfully at a time, until he was nothing but a vegetable. And then, only then, would the cosmic rust invade his mind.

Peace. That's all he wanted. He did not want to die in such a horrible, undignified way. He had nearly lost his life so many times on the battlefield, but to have it end like this, with no honor, was more than he could bear. Far, far better to lose his life to his own hand than to this scourge that was eating him alive.

Optimus searched for a still point within him, a place of peace that would allow him to pull the trigger and release him from the body that was rapidly becoming his tomb. He applied more and more pressure to the trigger… then suddenly dropped the weapon. “No!” he exclaimed. “What am I doing? I can't do this to Rodimus!” He knew that the pain of the gunshot would be fleeting, but Rodimus would feel it all. Rodimus would feel what it was like to have his processor shot out. His dear friend would have to live with that feeling over and over again. Optimus could not be so cruel as to hurt Rodimus just to achieve release from life. He would have to find another way.

The door between the two offices slid open and Rodimus stepped inside. Optimus jumped in surprise, thankful beyond words that his gun had fallen underneath the desk, out of sight. Rodimus looked concerned, and Optimus realized with a sinking feeling that his friend must have picked up on something through the link. “Optimus, what's wrong?” he asked. “Something is definitely happening to you. I know you've been avoiding me, and I've respected that, but it's gone on for too long.” He grabbed a chair, turning it backwards and straddling it. “Talk to me. You know I'm always here for you.”

'Oh, Roddy, if only I could,' Optimus thought miserably. He wanted to confide in someone so desperately, to seek solace in someone's arms, to gather strength from another's embrace. But he knew that he could not. He could not bear to have anyone see him suffering and wasting away like this. Aloud he said, “I… I can't, Roddy. Not even with you.”

Roddy sighed inwardly, vowing to stay calm. It infuriated him when Optimus pulled this crap! They had made so much progress over the years, and he knew that Optimus trusted him more than anyone, but every now and then, something would happen that he would not or could not share. “Optimus, if you're upset over what the Quintessons did to you, I understand that, but don't blame yourself for it. I felt what they were doing to you, and I know that you weren't in control. You fought back and beat them!”

“It's not that, really,” Optimus sighed, and Roddy realized that something was really wrong this time. “I've been tortured many times. I certainly don't like having my mind manipulated, but I triumphed in the end, and that's what matters.”

The Autobot second-in-command scrambled to think of a reason for his close friend's suffering. Optimus had not been the same since he had been rescued from the Quintessons. Had something else happened to him, something that he wouldn't share? But certainly Rodimus would have been informed about it! Perhaps something else entirely had happened. But what could cause the degree of pain and despair that had settled over Optimus like a heavy, suffocating blanket?

“Is it Andromeda?” he asked gently, hating having to pry like this, but whatever was going on was eating Optimus inside. “Did something happen with her?”

“Yes.” The answer was short and simple. It was true, after all.

“Did she break up with you?”

Rodimus looked so worried that Optimus felt compelled to give him some sort of answer, any answer that he could accept. “Yes, she did,” he whispered, looking down at the desk. He hated himself for slandering her and betraying the affection that they had shared, but he had already made such terrible transgressions, did it really matter anymore? “She told me that she had found someone else. Someone that she was happier with. Who am I to stand in her way?”

“I'm sorry, Optimus,” Roddy whispered, sympathy welling up within him. Optimus turned away, feeling worse than ever for having manipulated him. “I wish you had told me. I would have been here for you.”

“I know. It's just something I don't want to discuss right now, okay, Roddy?” He stood and walked over to the window, resting his head against the transparent material as he gazed blindly outside.

Rodimus felt the waves of despair coming from his dear friend and wanted to reach out to him, to try to assuage the pain that he felt, but he decided to respect Prime's wishes in this matter. Optimus would talk about it when the time was right. His hand curled into a fist when he thought about Andromeda. He needed to have a little talk with a two-timing witch!

But he did not have the opportunity for such a talk until nearly an entire week had passed. Optimus had continued to brood, and Roddy became increasingly worried about him. Despair and depression had once again wrapped around him in a death grip, and try as he might, Roddy could not get them to let go. Worse than that were the stabs of pain that filtered through the Matrix on occasion. Something was wrong with Optimus Prime, Roddy was certain of it, and it wasn't all just in his head.

He was startled out of his musings when Andromeda walked past him in the corridor, not sparing him a second glance. “Hey, wait a minute!” he cried, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm roughly. “I want to talk to you.”

She fixed him with a confused look, and he could see that she had not been recharging well. 'Serves her right!' he thought savagely, then paused. Why would she be having such a problem if the breakup were her idea to begin with? 'I'll have plenty of answers in a moment.'

“Where should we talk?” she asked softly. She didn't even question his reaction.

“Here!” he exclaimed, ushering her into an empty conference room. He quickly secured it, then flung himself into a chair, crossing his arms. “I want some answers.”

She looked at him blankly, leaning against a chair but not willing to sit in it. “Answers? To what?”

“You know what!” he snapped. “How could you hurt Optimus that way? Do you have any idea of what he's feeling right now?”

“I suppose he's happy. It's really none of my concern any more, now is it?” she said in a monotone, her emotions slipping out of her control.

“Happy? Happy?” he roared. “How could he be happy? You pulled out his spark and stomped on it! So who is it, huh? Who could be so damned good that you would dump Optimus flat on his face?”

“Dump Optimus?” she stammered. Oh, she was so confused! The past week had been hard enough as it was, and now Rodimus was jabbering nonsense at her. She just didn't have the energy to make sense of it. “I did no such thing.” She practically collapsed into the chair, feeling tears prick at her once again.

Rodimus felt his righteous anger slip away, replaced by confusion. Something gnawed at the back of his mind. “But Optimus said that you jilted him for another mech.”

“That's a good one!” Andromeda choked, feeling tears start to slip down her faceplate. “He told me that he was going to reactivate Alita One and that he didn't need me any more. He told me flat-out that I couldn't compare to her.” She sat there, hunched over, the very picture of misery.

Rodimus felt guilty for having worsened her misery. “Andromeda,” he said softly, reaching out and taking her hand, “something is very wrong here. He had the chance to reanimate Alita One a century ago. He told me that Alita's place was in the Matrix and he would never take her from it. But why would he change his mind now, after all this time?”

The gnawing sensation increased in intensity. “Andromeda, Optimus has lied to both of us. He would not do such a thing unless he was trying to protect us from something. Something he thought we couldn't handle. If only I understood what was happening to him!”

The femme wiped away her tears. “You think he lied about bringing Alita One back? But why would he do such a thing?”

“I don't know,” Rodimus sighed. “But something terrible is happening to him, and I intend to find out what!”

The next stop after that very confusing conversation was medbay. Rodimus left there with even more questions. Ratchet had assured him that Optimus was fine, but Roddy wasn't satisfied. He was sorely tempted to order the Chief Medical Officer to turn over Prime's medical file, but he hesitated. Better to get the answers from Optimus himself openly than to sneak around behind his back. He could save this as another option.

Rodimus tried to signal him but received no response. Now he was really worried! Optimus almost never shut down his communicator. A quick consultation with a computer access panel in the wall told that Optimus Prime was in his quarters. Alone. 'Very well,' Roddy thought grimly. 'You can't avoid me forever, Optimus! I know you're going to be at the celebration tonight. And so will I.' A stab of pain bit into him, and he winced, rubbing his left thigh. He'd better have that talk with Optimus soon!

As expected, Optimus did show up at the celebration that night. He really didn't have much of a choice; begging off would have raised too much suspicion. The Autobots were celebrating the completion of the tube transport system, a project over three years in duration. As the founder of the project, it was imperative that he attend. Not only that, he wanted to be here for personal reasons. It would be the last time he would see his fellow Autobots celebrating together. He would not miss it for anything.

Optimus leaned against the wall in the corner, watching the revelers with a sense of satisfaction. It was so good to see his Autobots happy, the cares of war temporarily forgotten. Blaster was in his element, mixing music at his station against the far wall. Robots of all shapes and sizes congregated together, sipping Energon and just shooting the breeze.

Prime pushed himself away from the wall a bit unsteadily, feeling a disorienting sensation of vertigo. 'Come on, hold it together!' he berated himself. 'It's just for one night!' He made the rounds himself, greeting old friends and reacquainting himself with those he did not know so well. He would have enjoyed himself thoroughly if not for the steady waves of pain that licked at him. Forcing himself to ignore them, he continued to mingle. He even gave Kup a friendly wave – he could afford to be forgiving at this stage. Conversing with Ultra Magnus, he felt a sudden pang of regret – he would really miss his old friend.

He noticed people staring at him and whispering behind his back. No matter, he thought grimly. He knew that they had noticed his sickly composition, but soon it would be beyond his concern. Soon he would have to be restricted to medbay. Noting the time on his internal chronometer, he was surprised to see that the festivities were half-over. Maybe he would make it through okay.

'Then again, maybe not!' he thought as his holding tanks gave a sickening lurch. Oh dear, here we go again! Optimus swiftly found his way to the waste disposal units in the corridor. Luck was with him, and the place was empty. He emerged several minutes later, ashen and trembling. It was painfully clear that he could no longer process his own Energon. Confinement to medbay was imminent.

His legs suddenly buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to his knees. 'No, no, get up!' he screamed to himself. 'Nobody must see me like this!'

Strong arms grasped him and hauled him to his feet. He cringed in horror, fearing that his terrible secret had been discovered. A quick glance at his rescuer put him at ease. “Ratchet!” he gasped in relief.

“I oughta smelt you for pulling a stunt like this!” the Chief Medical Officer ranted at him. “You know you're not strong enough to attend this function.” Brushing aside Prime's attempt to speak, he continued, “Here, I've got something that should help. Just take it easy for the rest of the night, alright?” Optimus felt the cool metal of a hypospray as it pressed against his neck. A soft hiss emitted as its contents were injected into his body. Several moments later, he felt strength return to him. He hastened to return to the party – his absence may have already been discovered. Ratchet tagged along behind him, grumbling about wayward patients.

The Autobot leader restricted himself to sitting down for the rest of the party. Ratchet was right, he didn't have the stamina for this, but it would be his last chance to see his beloved Autobots together celebrating, and he was determined to make it through. Ultra Magnus signaled to him, and Optimus rose slowly, gathering his data pad. It was time to give the customary speech.

Someone gripped his arm, and Prime turned to see Rodimus standing beside him. “Optimus, we have to talk,” he said grimly. Prime felt a sinking sensation. Roddy was suspicious!

“Well talk later, after the party. I promise. Please, Roddy?”

Roddy was surprised at the pleading tone. “Okay, Optimus. No excuses after that, though!”

'I hope I can make it that long!' he thought as another wave of vertigo seized him. Rodimus steadied him, definite worry reflected in his optics. Optimus pulled away as soon as he felt able and headed to the podium.

“Greetings, my fellow Autobots!” he began, scarcely hearing his own words. “We are gathered here today to celebrate a momentous occasion….” He hoped that no one would notice that he read directly from the data pad. Normally he just made notes and used those to form his speech, but he was too weak to concentrate on such a task right now. Pain lanced through his side, and he winced, faltering. He hastily resumed his speech, but the murmurs from the crowd told him that his pause had not gone unnoticed. Another wave of dizziness swept through him, and he leaned against the podium, bracing himself. It was then that a massive bolt of pain sliced through his abdomen, radiating up through his chest. It was more than he could bear, and he cried out, fingers digging into the podium. He reeled, trying to contain the pain, but it consumed him instead. It was more than his overburdened systems could bear, and consciousness slipped from his grasp. His body fell forward, knocking the podium over, and both smashed into the table before it, flattening everything.

There was a deafening silence, punctured by a few startled screams. Optimus Prime lay unconscious on top of the wreckage of the podium and the table. After a few paralyzing moments, the assembled Autobots began to murmur to each other. Rodimus Prime and Ultra Magnus raced to their stricken friend's side. Roddy turned him over very gently, and Magnus propped his head on his lap. Ratchet dashed through the crowd and quickly took vital signs. “Electropulse is weak but steady,” he muttered, pulling a hypospray out of subspace and administering it to Prime's neck with an audible hiss. “That should bring him around.”

Sure enough, within a few moments, Prime's optics flickered unsteadily online. He groaned softly and turned his head. “What happened?” he asked weakly.

“You lost consciousness,” Ratchet explained gently, watching him carefully.

Optimus turned his head and saw Rodimus staring at him in concern. He knew without a doubt that Roddy had felt everything. There would be no hiding it now. He felt a soothing hand on his shoulder and looked above him to see Ultra Magnus, who was now supporting his head. Optimus felt very comforted by his presence. He could feel the whispers and stares of the Autobots around him. Primus, it had been so stupid of him to come here! This sort of scene was precisely what he had wanted to avoid at all costs.

“We need to get him to medbay as soon as possible,” Ratchet explained. He had radioed for a transport berth but it had not yet arrived. Without preamble, Ultra Magnus picked up Prime's limp form and headed off. Optimus shut down his optics, glad for the rest. He dreaded to think of what would happen next. He had a lot of explaining to do.

Rodimus waited until he had Ratchet cornered in medbay before letting fly. “I thought you said he was fine!” he hissed. “He lied to me, and so did you!”

Ratchet flinched under the barrage. “I'm sorry, Rodimus, but I had no choice. I swore to Optimus that I would keep his condition a secret. I could not violate that trust except under a direct order from you.”

“Condition?” the Autobot second's optics narrowed. “What condition?”

Ratchet sighed. He was really dreading this. “I have to address the Autobots. You will learn then. I have spoken to Optimus, and he agrees that it is the best option. It is better to tell them the truth than to let wild theories and conjecture flourish.”

The eggshell-white medic reluctantly headed to the communications room. All was in readiness, and there was no putting it off. “Autobots, your attention please. This is Chief Medical Officer Ratchet speaking. I know that you are all concerned with the well-being of Optimus Prime. It is my sorrowful duty to inform you that Optimus Prime is dying.” He paused here, letting the exclamations of shock and horror that he was sure were occurring die down. “The Quintessons have infected him with a mutation strain of the cosmic rust plague. This new strain has resisted all of my attempts to cure it. I have tried to cut out the affected circuitry and to treat it with Corrostop and other compounds, but to no avail. I am afraid that there is no cure. Cryogenic treatments have served to prolong his life, but it is only a delaying measure at best. Prime's condition has worsened to the point that he can no longer leave medbay. He has about one week left until the cosmic rust forces him into a coma. Prime himself wishes to address you now. Please stand by while the remote feed is established.” Ratchet gestured to a tech off-screen, and the picture jumped to show Optimus Prime sitting up on a medical berth.

“Greetings, my Autobots,” he spoke, his voice noticeably weak. “I am sure that Ratchet has advised you of the gravity of my condition. It is true; I am dying. I understand your desire to visit me and pay your respects, but I implore you not to. I am very weak and do not have the stamina to greet you all individually. If you wish to contact me, please send your sentiments via video e-mail. I will be certain to receive it.

“I am sorry to be leaving you in such a manner, but it appears to be inevitable. I wish my successor, Rodimus Prime, the best of luck. You all have been the finest warriors and best of friends I could have wished for, and I have always been honored to be your leader. Please do not grieve for me, for I will soon be at one with the Matrix. Until all are one.” The transmission winked out, leaving every Autobot with a sense of helpless emptiness.

end of Chapter Twelve

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