How the Mighty Have Fallen

by Phantom

Chapter Two

Prime gazed around the briefing room, assuring himself that everything was prepared. He checked the slide projector and his notes, which all seemed to be in order. He sat back in his enormous chair at the head of the table and awaited the arrival of his top Autobots.

He blinked and shook his head rapidly as he felt his optic covers begin to close. The past few weeks of working late and waking early to deal with one crisis or another were beginning to take their toll. He made a mental promise to himself to seal himself inside his quarters for some much-needed recharging. But he had never found the time, and now his emergency recharging circuits were trying to override his primary program, since his energy levels had dropped too low.

He jerked his head up violently, which had begun to nod towards his chest. He lifted his hands and roughly slapped his half-mask that covered his face. While the briefing was merely routine, it was still necessary to keep his braintrust up to date on events. Still, he did have several minutes until they arrived, and he was so tired.... The thought barely had time to cross his neural nets, as his head lowered itself to his folded arms resting on the table and his optic covers slid into place.

Several minutes later, the door creaked open and the Autobot braintrust entered the briefing room.

"Hey, Prime, what's up?" Jazz asked cheerfully, then stopped short when he caught sight of his leader.

"What's going on?" Red Alert asked. "Oh, dear!" he exclaimed when he saw Prime. "He's been murdered!"

Ultra Magnus stifled a chuckle. "Don't be ridiculous, Red." He walked over to the sleeping form. Magnus used his fingers to feel for an electro-pulse at Prime's neck. "He's just fine."

"If he's just fine, then why is he recharging instead of briefing us?" Jazz asked.

Ratchet sighed. "He must be exhausted. I've been telling him to get some more rest for weeks. I didn't necessarily mean right now, of course, but he's so worn out he probably couldn't help it."

"So what do we do now?" Prowl demanded. "Should we wake him up?"

"Of course not!" Ratchet snapped. "Just let him recharge. Primus knows he needs it."

Prowl opened his mouth to protest. "Shh!" Ratchet whispered. "Let's go."

The group tiptoed out quietly. Ratchet turned out the lights and closed the door, turning on the red light that was always illuminated to warn others not to disturb the room's occupants.

* * * * *

Prime lifted up his head and peered around, only half-awake. He blinked several times and straightened up fully. He gasped as he realized that his emergency override program had engaged, forcing him to recharge. He consulted his internal chronometer, realizing with growing horror that the briefing should have taken place hours ago. "Oh, no," he groaned. "I'll have to reschedule it. When am I going to find time to do that? I've already got so much else to do."

He looked around, noticing the darkened room. "They were already here. Oh, they're going to think I'm so lazy. I wish they had woken me up. Now what am I supposed to do?"

He forced himself to calm down. He could always combine this briefing with the next one that he had scheduled. He hadn't anything very important to say, anyway. It would probably be a waste of time to drag everyone away from their duties.

He walked out the door, turning off the outside red light. He was still berating himself for resting when he had responsibilities when another thought hit him. "Oh, no!" he cried, smacking his forehead. "I missed my appointment with Ratchet, too!"

He picked up his pace, hurrying down the hall. Ratchet looked up as his leader rushed in. "Sorry I'm late," he said a bit breathlessly.

"Have a nice nap?" Ratchet asked teasingly.

Prime felt the heat rising in his face. "I can't believe I did that. Now I'm going to have to--"

"You'll do nothing but climb onto the examining table," Ratchet interrupted sternly.

"But--"

"And no buts! Being the Autobot leader gives you no special privileges in here, mister! Now get moving!" Ratchet stared at him expectantly.

"All right, all right," Prime said, smiling beneath his half-mask. He dutifully climbed onto the examining table and lay back.

"Okay, let's see what's up with you," Ratchet muttered as he began the examination. He poked and prodded what seemed like every inch of Prime's form. "Structural integrity seems okay, same with hydraulic reflexes." He frowned suddenly. "Prime, your energy readings are a bit low. You'd better have some energon."

He went over to a dispenser on the wall and withdrew a cube. "Drink up," he said, handing over the cube.

Prime hesitated, but quickly complied. He had to admit that it tasted great as it gushed through porous openings in his half-mask and slid down a tube in his throat. Ratchet nodded in approval as he studied the energy readings.

"Well, everything seems fine," he announced in satisfaction. "You can go now, but don't forget to stop by in two Earth weeks for another exam."

"I'll be sure to do so," Prime replied. He stood and prepared to leave, but something held him back. He turned and asked, "Ratchet, do the others think badly of be because of what happened?"

Ratchet waved his hand dismissively. "Of course not, Prime. They understood. I made it clear to them that you need your rest."

Prime nodded slowly. He still didn't feel reassured. The pressure to perform, to command flawlessly and never make a mistake rose up in him. He suddenly felt suffocated by his responsibilities. He had never been one to share his feelings openly, probably because he had been leader for so long and had grown used to the intense privacy and isolation. Perhaps it was time to alleviate some of that isolation. Perhaps he needed to talk to someone....

"Ratchet, can I talk to you for a minute?" Prime asked hesitatingly, unsure of the response. While Ratchet was his best friend, Prime was used to being regarded with respect and awe that verged on worship. The doubts and troubles that he was about to voice were almost blasphemous.

"Sure, Prime--" Ratchet began. He was cut off by a large explosion that sounded outside the Ark. Cries of pain were heard, and several minutes later Sideswipe and Mirage limped in.

"My second home," Sideswipe joked as he dragged himself in painfully. Fluid seeped from his wounds.

Ratchet sprang into action, grabbing his tools and making his way over to the injured duo. "Just when I finally take care of all my patients, a battle like this happens, and the repair bay fills up again." He paused when he saw Prime standing next to him with a disappointed look. "Sorry, Prime. Maybe we can talk later."

Prime shook his head slowly, feeling his burdens pressing down on him even more. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't very important anyway." He hurried out of the medical bay as another explosion was heard.

A full-blown battle greeted him as he stepped outside. It was the same players in the same tired old formation. "What do you want this time, Megatron?" he called to his arch-foe.

"Want?" Megatron sneered. "I want you, Prime! Out of the way, that is." He fired his fusion cannon. Prime ducked out of the way, the blast just barely missing him.

"Those years as Galvatron must have decayed your neural nets, Megatron!" Prime replied, firing a blast from his own weapon. "Stop this senseless violence!" Prime knew that Megatron was a reasonable being, and that his period of being Galvatron had not changed that.

"Nice try, Prime," Megatron chucked. "But you know that it is our destiny to rule. You also know that I cannot allow you to stand in our way."

Prime's gears ground in frustration. "Don't you ever learn, Megatron?" He was so tired of hearing the same excuses, tired of fighting the endless battles. As Autobot leader, he had gone through this scenario many times, and had been brought back to life only to go through it again.

"Apparently not, Prime," Megatron replied. "It seems that you don't learn very much, either." He ducked as a stray blast flew overhead. He fired his fusion cannon at a group of Autobots nearby. "It seems that we've had this conversation before. Come now, Optimus, you know that fighting us will solve nothing. You are a worthy foe. There is a place for you in our empire as well. If only you would join me, we could do so much together."

"I'm sick of this!" Prime announced suddenly. "I'm sick of this endless warfare, I'm sick of the same prattling, and most of all I'm sick of you!" He lowered his weapon and launched himself at his enemy. Megatron gasped in surprise as Prime landed on top of him and began raining blows.

"What's gotten into you, Prime?" he asked in confusion. "I've never known you to be so impulsive."

Prime hesitated for a moment, his fist in front of Megatron's face. "You're right. I hate to admit it, but you are."

Megatron shoved him off abruptly. "Come, my Decepticons! This battle is pointless and will win us nothing. The Autobots refuse to see reason. We will retreat and fight again another day."

Cyclonus nodded with approval. It was good to have a leader who knew when to stop fighting. "Decepticons, let us leave this place," he agreed.

"Another day, Prime," Megatron murmured to him. "Perhaps then you will see the truth behind our cause." He launched himself in the air and was gone.

Prime turned around slowly, seeing his warriors gaping at him. He suddenly realized how foolish he must seem to them, attacking Megatron on impulse alone. Such behavior was understandable from Rodimus, but they expected higher standards from him.

"Way to go, Prime!" Jazz yelled. "You sure caught ol' Meggy off-balance!" The others cheered their support as well.

Prime shook his head in disbelief. They've done it again, he thought. They took a foolhardy move on his part to be some brilliant strategy from a faultless, perfect leader. In their eyes, he could do no wrong. This was all well and good -- crucial, in fact, since he needed their unwavering loyalty to defeat the Decepticons, but he didn't have to like it. It only raised his own standards, putting him under even more pressure. His attack on Megatron was borne mostly out of frustration and the necessity of relieving the crushing pressure put upon him. And if he didn't find some way to relieve the pressure building on him, he knew that he would snap.

end of Chapter Two

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