Famiy Ties

by Phantom


Chapter Eleven

Hot Rod hesitated outside the closed door at the end of the corridor. There were no markings to set it apart from any other door, but there was something formidable and imposing about it that kept most Autobots away. They viewed this place with a sort of awe. This was Optimus Prime's private quarters, his personal chambers, and it seemed to have an almost mystical quality to it that caused a hush to fall over anyone who passed nearby. Hot Rod had no such qualms – these used to be his quarters. They were the most fortified and best protected in Metroplex, and the safety of the Autobot leader was paramount, so he had inherited them from Optimus. It had been surreal, occupying the same living space that his idol had occupied so recently. It had made him feel even more like a murderer. At times he had felt like the room was haunted by the ghost of Optimus Prime. It had taken a long time to banish the 'ghost', which had been in his mind after all, and find some semblance of peace.

A bit nervously, he reached out and pressed the door chime. The buzzer sounded, and he waited… and waited… no response. “Metroplex, locate Optimus Prime,” he spoke aloud.

“Optimus Prime is in his quarters,” the behemoth city replied.

Roddy sighed in frustration, pressing the buzzer. Again, no response. He would not be deterred by silence. He pressed down on the buzzer, causing an endless chime to ring out. That would get Prime's attention for sure! Roddy was not one to be ignored.

Finally an irritable voice came from the other side of the door. “Who is it?”

“It's Roddy,” he replied.

“I'm not in the mood for visitors.”

“Please,” Hot Rod pleaded. “I really have to talk to you. It can't wait.”

There were a few tense moments of silence, and then the door slid open. Hot Rod tried to hide his shock – Optimus looked very weary. The Autobot leader struggled to put on his usual persona. “Now is really not a good time, Hot Rod. I'll have to ask you to make it brief.” He stepped back, allowing his visitor to enter.

Roddy took in the scene with wide optics. The only illumination in the room was a large energon taper that burned blue – a special kind that was used in memorial services. Before it stood a holographic generator, displaying the figures of Prime's close friends who had passed on to the Matrix. Hot Rod recognized most of them – Ironhide, Prowl, Brawn… but there were a few that he didn't. In the middle stood the image of Alita One. Roddy felt a sudden pang – he was intruding on Prime's private memorial. This was definitely not good – he respected his father's need to mourn, but it was clearly keeping him from concentrating on the present.

“Lights,” Optimus called, and the lights came on, banishing the darkness. He capped the memorial candle, extinguishing its haunting blue glow. Another gesture killed the holographic generator, and the display winked out into nothingness.

Hot Rod looked around surreptitiously – everything was pretty much the way it had been before Prime's death. He had had the unenviable task of moving out Prime's personal belongings after his death so that he could occupy the secure quarters. A beautiful portrait of Alita caught his gaze. He would bet real money that Optimus talked to it.

Optimus politely gestured to a large, Transformer-sized sofa. It was made mostly of metal, with a silicone cushion atop it to comfortably absorb weight. Hot Rod settled onto it gratefully, and Optimus sat next to him, leaving some space between them. Roddy sensed that the physical space represented Prime's desire to put some emotional distance between them.

Roddy coughed nervously. It was a rather silly mannerism – Transformers had no need of it, but it was something he had picked up from his time on Earth. This was more difficult than he had expected. He squashed down his unease and faced Optimus with a direct stare. “I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I said last night. It was cruel of me, and I didn't mean any of it. I wanted to apologize to you.”

Optimus met his gaze evenly. “Hot Rod, you have nothing to apologize for. Everything you said was true. I can't be upset with you for voicing what was on your mind.”

Hot Rod shook his head. “I was being unfair to you. I was upset and got carried away in the heat of the moment. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. It's been difficult for me to adjust to the idea that you are my father. When I inherited the Matrix, it was like everyone wanted me to be just like you. And now that they know that you are my progenitor, I can't even be Hot Rod without feeling pressure to live up to your example. That kind of pressure just got to me.”

Optimus' gaze grew sad. “Roddy, I don't want you to be like me. Believe me, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I've always admired your spirit. You never seemed to let this war get you down. You lived in the moment and enjoyed it. And you always speak your mind, even if it's not what other people want to hear. I don't want you to ever change. And as for pressure, you're not the only one who's feeling that.” His voice grew harsher, in spite of himself. “Do you think it was easy for me to find out that I had a son, after all this time? I knew nothing about parenting, and suddenly you came into my life out of the blue. I tried to put my indiscretion with Phantasma behind me – I never imagined that it would come back to haunt me. I really wish that you had been created under happier circumstances. If I've been overbearing, it's because I'm trying to figure out this whole thing myself. I don't know how else to react.”

Roddy was taken aback. He had never stopped to consider how Optimus felt about things. He had just assumed that his father knew what he was doing. He always seemed so capable, so in control of things. He mentally berated himself. Such ignorance had gotten him in this situation, and that was what he had come here to rectify. “I've been acting like a spoiled brat, and I know it. I never stopped to think about how I was affecting you. You've tried to be nice to me, and I've been nothing but a jerk. I know I've been hurtful. Magnus is really worried about you. He can tell that something is wrong.”

Optimus sighed in exasperation. “Magnus has a big mouth. He should learn to keep it shut.”

“He just wants to be a good friend to you,” Roddy pressed on. “And he's right to be worried. You can deny it all you want, but I can tell that you're upset. Please, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. I'm here for you.”

Hot Rod could practically see Optimus retreat emotionally, his face becoming stony. “Nothing is wrong. You really should go, Hot Rod. I have a lot to do tomorrow and I need to rest.”

“Ha! You won't get rid of me that easily,” Roddy exclaimed. “You're just going to sit here and wallow in misery. Well, I'm not leaving until we have this out.” He edged closer and put his hand on Prime's arm. The red and blue Autobot jerked back as if he'd been burned. Undaunted, Roddy continued. “You miss them, don't you? All of your friends. It's just not the same without them. You feel like you're all alone.”

Optimus looked at the floor, and Roddy knew that he'd hit a nerve. “I really don't want to get into this.”

Hot Rod took the large blue hand and squeezed it. “You're not alone. I'm here for you. We all are. You have people that care about you. Just trust in us.” His voice grew soft. “Alita wouldn't want you to suffer this way.”

Optimus jerked his hand back and looked away, clenching his fists tightly, but not before Roddy saw his optics brimming with fluid. The Quintessons had designed their “consumer goods” to please their customers, and as such modeled their behavior to mimic their clients. That included certain emotional responses, like tears. The large robot visibly struggled to reign in his emotions. A moment later he turned back to Hot Rod, who was surprised at the change. Optimus showed no sign of the mental turmoil within. “Don't mind me, Roddy. I'm just in a bit of a strange mood tonight. I just need some recharge. I'll be fine in the morning, you'll see.”

'Yeah, right,' Roddy thought sourly. 'You mean you'll be hiding it better tomorrow. And by that point you'll have pushed me so far away I'll never be able to get close.' “Don't slag with a slagger,” he said aloud. “I know all about pretending that nothing is wrong. I did exactly the same thing when I became Autobot leader. Suddenly it was like I was all alone. I didn't know who to turn to. Even Springer and Arcee treated me differently. My life had turned upside down, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I just cried myself to sleep a lot. And I know you're doing the same thing. Come on, Optimus. You can't keep it inside forever. It'll destroy you.”

“Please, Roddy,” Optimus choked, feeling his hard-won control slipping away. “Don't do this to me,” he whispered. He began to tremble with the effort of holding everything inside. The last thing he wanted to do was lose control.

Hot Rod knew that he had made a major crack in his mentor's emotional armor. He had to break it away in order to reach Optimus and help him. It would be painful, but it had to be done. “Alita wouldn't want you to mourn her like this. She'd want you to let go. I'll help you, but you have to trust me.”

Prime's composure crumbled completely. He covered his face in his hands, trying to regain control of himself and failing miserably. With a strangled cry he jumped up and fled into his recharging chamber, the door sliding closed behind him.

Hot Rod stood and approached the door. He traced random patterns with his finger, turning the matter over in his mind. He knew the layout of these quarters very well, and that this door had no lock. It would be a simple matter to open it and go inside. Should he respect Optimus Prime's privacy, or should he violate it even further? It was painfully obvious that Optimus wanted to be alone, but that just might be the worst thing for him at the moment. Everyone else had left him alone out of respect, and look how bad things had gotten. Roddy knew that privacy was very precious to the Autobot leader, simply because it was so scarce, but that privacy had also allowed negative thoughts and emotions to thrive. It was time to clean house and exorcise the demons that tormented his friend.

His mind made up, he activated the sensor and the door slid open. Light spilled in from the open door, illuminating a figure huddled in the corner, trembling with grief. Choked sobs escaped, no matter how much the figure wanted to keep them bottled up. He resembled nothing like the proud and mighty leader that he was. He looked small and vulnerable, and very much alone.

That would have to change. Hot Rod gently approached the shaking figure and touched his shoulder. Optimus seemed to barely notice, wrapped up in his misery. “It's okay,” Roddy whispered, wrapping his arm around the broad shoulders. “Just let it out. I won't leave you alone. We're in this together.”

“P-please, Roddy,” Optimus managed to choke out. “I don't want you to see me this way.” He tried to shrink away and hide his tear-streaked face in his folded arms.

Roddy hugged his father as best as he could. “I don't give a damn what you look like. We're family, right? We have to stick together. We're a team.”

Optimus was too overcome by sobs to say any more. Hot Rod contented himself by providing silent support. This was what Optimus really needed – a shoulder to cry on, someone he could trust with his true feelings. He needed some kind of release of all of that pain so that it didn't consume him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the flood of tears subsided. Optimus looked up, shaken but a lot more relaxed. Hot Rod gave him a gentle smile. “Better?”

Optimus nodded sheepishly, mopping at his face with a cleansing rag he plucked from a small compartment.

“Let's sit up here. It'll be a lot more comfortable than on the floor.” He tugged Optimus up, and they both sat down on the large recharge berth. “Now I want you to tell me exactly what is bothering you. You won't get any better if you keep it all to yourself.”

Optimus was silent for a few moments, wondering where to begin. It all had become one mass of misery to him. He had kept to himself for so long that it was difficult to voice his thoughts. “Things have been difficult ever since I came back. I never dreamed that things could change so quickly in just a few short years. I had always been afraid of what would become of the Autobot army after I died – I was glad to see that you had carried on for me. But everything had changed so much. I had to get used to a somewhat different command structure, and the special projects, such as the EDC and the warp gates. It was petty of me, but I began to feel superfluous. You were dead-on about me – I had become so stuck in the routine of the war that I hadn't really made many innovations. I was glad to see that life had gone on, but it was like I no longer had a place in the Autobot army.”

He looked at the floor. This subject was painful to talk about. “I didn't want to come back, you know. After so many millennia of endless war, I was glad to be at rest. I was inside the Matrix, at peace with myself, reunited with all of my friends. Alita followed close behind – I learned that she had died while distracting Unicron so that her femmes could escape in a shuttle. At last, we were together, closer than ever before. Being in the Matrix was like being wrapped up in love. Sometimes I lost track of my sense of self, caught up in the unity of all of the sparks. Primus' essence bound us together. I wanted for nothing.”

Hot Rod nodded silently, unwilling to interrupt the flow of words that had been dammed up for so long. He himself had taken a trip into the Matrix for information on the Quintessons, and while his experience had been radically different, he had still felt as if a blanket of love had been drawn around him. It had been very difficult for him to leave. He could only image what it had been like for Optimus to return after such an experience.

“Time has no meaning in the Matrix. The sparks inside only have an awareness of the outside world through the Autobot leader. We all sensed your worries about being the new Autobot leader and wanted to help. I tried my best to reassure you, but the Matrix distorted the message. I could only communicate with you properly during your dreams. And even then, you seemed to misinterpret my presence as blame.”

Hot Rod looked at the elder Autobot in amazement. He had dreamed of the deceased Autobot leader often, and each time it had been upsetting. Roddy felt as if he were being haunted, accused of causing Prime's death and usurping his position. And all this time, Optimus had been trying to reassure him, convince him of his self-worth and capabilities.

Optimus continued, oblivious to Roddy's reaction. “And then I was torn away from it all. My spark was ripped from the Matrix and thrust back into my body shell. Oh, how it hurt! I was left confused and disoriented.” His hands curled instinctively into fists. “Curse those thrice-damned Quintessons! I finally had found the peace that I had been searching for, and they took me away from it. They found a way to reach my spark through my old body and force me into some mockery of life. They violated and twisted me, using me as a weapon to wipe out those that I had fought so hard to protect. I tried to fight their control, but their grip on me was too tight. If you hadn't intervened, Roddy, we all would have died for nothing.” He looked at his companion with respect. “I know it wasn't easy to face up to me, but you did an admirable job. You freed me from their control. I wanted to put an end to the Quintessons' plan, and return to the Matrix once more, as a martyr. But that wasn't to be.” His hands shook, but he barely noticed. “As the flagship began to explode, I felt my spark slipping away. I tried to rejoin the Matrix, but it denied me. It rejected me, Roddy!” His voice became anguished. “I was stuck in limbo. Alpha Trion spoke to me. He told me that I was not meant to return to the Matrix, that I had a purpose in the world of the living. But I didn't want to hear it. I begged him to let me come back. I didn't want to live again. He turned away from me. And then I was reborn. But I was never the same.”

“I can imagine,” Hot Rod said sympathetically. He had had no ideal what Optimus had gone through. How could anyone return to a normal life after such an experience?

“I wasn't supposed to remember what it was like in the Matrix,” he explained. “I think that Ratchet only has fleeting memories, and I'm glad. It's too hard to go on, knowing what I left behind.”

“What about Alita?” Hot Rod knew that she was at the heart of the problem. “Couldn't you reactivate her?” When the mausoleum had collided with the sun, many of the Autobot bodies had been sucked harmlessly into the void of space instead of being destroyed. Alita's body was one of the ones recovered and was now interred deep in the bowels of Cybertron, in the same manner of the Decepticon crypt.

Prime's features twisted in pain, and Hot Rod braced himself for another emotional outburst. But after a moment, the pain subsided and the dialogue continued. “I could. Certainly I could, and I wrestle with this issue every day. It would be all too easy to bring her back, but I could never live with myself. She would resent me for it. She is in the Matrix, where she belongs. She is at peace, and I can't betray that just for the sake of companionship.” Hot Rod was amazed at Prime's conviction. He would rather live alone than bring back his beloved just to satisfy his own loneliness.

“Sometimes I just can't take it,” Optimus whispered. “I can't take the memories of her. I think I hear her voice, or her footsteps, but it's nothing but my imagination. When it's at its worst, I feel the Matrix reaching out to me. It's her, Roddy. She's trying to comfort me, but it just hurts too much. It's nice to know that she's still there for me, but I'll never be able to hold her again.”

Hot Rod had a thought so terrible he wasn't sure he could voice it. “How badly do you want to rejoin the Matrix, Optimus? Would – would you take your own life?”

Optimus looked away guiltily, unable to meet the concerned optics before him. “I almost did. Up on Metroplex's observation deck today, I felt so small compared to all the billions of stars, and I wanted to be back in the Matrix more than anything else. There was nothing to be afraid of there, and I was never alone or hurt. I knew it was a terrible sin to take my life since so many have already died, but I couldn't find any other way out. I felt so trapped. And the Matrix – it stopped me. It wouldn't give me the release that I wanted. I felt betrayed, as if it had turned its back on me. I felt rejected even more.” He looked up gratefully as Roddy took his hand. “I've learned from the Matrix that everything happens for a reason, even if it doesn't seem to make sense. My resurrection served a purpose, and it wouldn't let me escape whatever destiny held.”

“I know all about that bit. Destiny be damned!” Roddy exclaimed.

Optimus actually managed to crack a small smile underneath his faceplate. Hot Rod wondered idly what he looked like under that mask. Perhaps Optimus would trust him enough one day to show him. “I'm glad that it stopped me, actually. I know that my death would cause pain. I know you would have blamed yourself, Roddy, though it wouldn't have been your fault. I would never want to hurt you like that.”

“I'm just glad I could be here for you.”

Optimus squeezed his hand in silent gratitude.

“Being the Autobot leader is a real pain in the diodes, isn't it?” Roddy shook his head. And before he knew it, he was spilling his guts as well, talking about the loneliness and insecurity he had felt. As the two compared notes, Hot Rod could not help but marvel at the similar problems they had had. He had always assumed that it was just him, that Optimus had breezed through it. He had always made it seem so easy! It was nice to know that Optimus wasn't infallible, that Roddy didn't have to live up to the legacy of a perfect being.

Hot Rod did not notice the late hour until Prime's optics began to flicker and his head drooped slightly. “You're exhausted,” he chided. “Get some recharge already!”

Before he knew it, Optimus had been pushed down on the recharge berth. “But I'm not… tired…” he protested. The sentence trailed off as he entered recharge mode.

Hot Rod remained for a short while to make sure that his friend was resting comfortably. Satisfied, he turned to go, shutting off the lights as he left. “Pleasant dreams,” he whispered. He hoped fervently that the crisis had passed.


end of Chapter Eleven

go to Chapter Twelve
go to Table of Contents

return to Phantom's Fanfic Archive

1