Dormant Seeds
by SMYGO4EVA
Ratchet knew that Optimus bore both physical and mental weight on his shoulders. The war made him care too much, and rage had eaten him from the inside. They said that what didn't kill one only made them stronger, more powerful. That was true with Optimus. He knew that all too well. He never said anything, but he had to carry that weight, the loss and pain to keep going.
Ratchet held his own, as the medic and as a part of the team. He had to prepare for every "Change of plan!", and every possible contingency. Every move he made on the warfront had to be precise and exact. He had to guard those who he held dear with all his spark. He had thrown down attacks, blows like lightning to take down any enemy. He knew how to do the most damage, and how to heal, to repair from the battlefield.
Optimus and Ratchet were forged not for war, but they had experienced enough to become embroiled in Cybertron's perpetual conflict. They had each other's backs, and optics on the objective, even when the battle was unpredictable to direct. Even when the Decepticons became all-encompassing, too fierce and ruthless to outrun. From the moment the storm had taken Cybertron, extinguishing its core, by instinct, they had to fight; they had no other choice.
From that moment, the dormant seeds were sown, and they grew. Such violence and loss couldn't keep them for long, and their sparks were to be unchained. It was the instincts they shared that kept them alive. When the fire, the weight of it all, became too much, Optimus burned the brightest, and Ratchet was the lulling flame.
Sometimes - rarely, but sometimes it wasn't enough for them both.