Solemn victory
Dark of the Moon
The sun was fading over the wreckage that was once a city, a small civilization destroyed by the factors of war and betrayal. The humans, the small creatures with their great prospect for evolvement and a bright future, were trying to rebuild. Mend broken souls.
"We have ended the eternal war."
There was no happiness in the deep metallic voice, sounding rusty and worn with a grief that was only tinted with relief. Such a voice should not be heard in the after match of the final battle, yet the voice's owner was not the only one with these thoughts.
"There are many things that we wish could never have happened," an even deeper, smooth voice added to the tense being next to him.
Ratchet glanced to the taller leader beside him, the one-armed Autobot staring calmly at the disappearing sun, the deep orange color reflecting in blue and red scratched armor. Optimus spoke no further to express his thoughts, yet the lime-green medic seemed to understand it all.
"How do we collect the pieces?"
The smaller mech had moved his optics to look at the river that melted into the orange horizon, blue orbs barely grazing the massive cargo ship that had once held many Decepticons beings and vessels. Including two small, proud Autobots.
"It is not how we collect the pieces, but how we put them behind us," Optimus returned softly, his one arm resting down his side, shifting his weight on his feet lightly.
Cryptic as the tall Autobot always was, Ratchet still noticed the change. In his voice, there was barely any relief over the ended war. There was turmoil.
"Megatron helped you," Ratchet noted in a simple mumble.
"It needed an end."
It was a short, curt answer that the medic received. Which didn't surprise him.
Optimus had been quiet for long time after the battles. He had walked off, barely giving Ratchet a change to weld leaking tubes and wires shut from where there had once been an arm. Bumblebee had wanted to follow, probably to talk; to ask what was troubling the very last Prime. A hand on the yellow shoulder had stopped him.
It was only when Optimus had calmly walked unto the bridge where the final energon had been shed that Ratchet allowed himself to talk to him. The bodies of the former leaders had been removed, as the first thing. It was as if the sight of Sentinel Prime disturbed the younger Autobots.
"We have won, yet…"
"We feel lost," Optimus Prime finished, only now tearing his optics from the darkening sky, looking to his comrade and soldier. Ratchet could see it in him. Prime was grieving. Not just for what had happened and for the lost, but for what could have happened and what might have been.
But they should be feeling triumph!
"I wish it could have been in battle," Ratchet then mumbled, letting the true regret shine through his voice.
"I know," was the answer. "He was my friend too."
Ratchet let out a deep suffering sigh, letting his tense shoulders finally sag. How many years had not passed? How many decades, centuries, millennia of fighting had gone by? Seeing countless proud mechs and strong femmes pass on to the Well of All Sparks, it was hard to believe that it was over. Hard to feel any sort of cheer or happiness when he knew what the war had cost. Lives, sanities and as proved, the war broke loyalty.
"I will never forgive it."
"And it will never need forgiveness now."
Just that moment, Ratchet let himself feel victory. It was over, and now they could finally live in peace. They would not be on Cybertron, but they would be home, the thought Sentinel Prime had never been able to accept. His ideas had been true, but his way had been lost. Like Cybertron forever would be.
But it was time to move on.
"Optimus, we are picking up a very faint Cybertronian distress signal… from the desert."
It was time for a new era.