Love Was When I Loved You
Tatsu here. New to the site, but not to the intricate world of fan fiction. This is something I've been pondering ever since I learned the story of Optimus Prime and Elita One. I finally went and watched "The Search For Alpha Trion" recently. Man, that was a riot. I should totally do a parody…anyone got references?
Anyway…oh, great, my computer's being weird on me. It keeps switching to this font called "Fiolex Girls." Yeah, Jetfire, technology makes a lot of sense.
Okay, my computer is STILL being weird. I just cannot catch a break around here. Why is it doing this to me? Now it won't switch from solid caps when I space down for a new paragraph!
Erg. Seems normal now. I'm just gonna start writing…For those of you weirdos who don't know, my sources indicate that a vorn is approximately equal to eighty-three earth years.
The war ended.
The moment Megatron's empty corpse struck the hard Cybertronian ground, the war drew to its close, heralding hysteric cheers and tears from the surrounding Autobots.
Optimus Prime, their leader, the one who should have rejoiced more than all of them put together, felt only a very cold emptiness.
"Okay, so," a very drunken Ironhide said, wrapping his arm around his sulky leader's shoulders. "We're all goin' out tonight, right? To Maccadam's?"
"You go," Optimus muttered, turning his face away. "I have business to attend to."
"What?" Jazz yelped, jumping in his leader's way before Optimus could escape through the rec room doors. "Optimus, what work could you possibly have to do now? All of our side of Cybertron is having a field day. The war is over, okay? You don't need to push yourself anymore."
"I have work to do," Optimus insisted desperately. He couldn't breathe here. The aching hole in his spark was constricting him, sucking out all of his light. He couldn't breathe. "Let go, Ironhide."
"You heard him," a very sharp voice said, and the three mechs turned to see Ratchet watching them disapprovingly. "Ironhide," the CMO growled dangerously, his optics narrowing. "You heard him. I believe that could be called an order. Let him go."
The weapons specialist released his commander somewhat nervously, backing away slowly. With a single thankful glance at Ratchet, Optimus Prime hunched his shoulders and pushed through the crowd, finding relief as he stepped through the door into the base's chilly hallways. He set off, walking to only Primus knew where.
As he walked, he let the sorrow overcome him. His brother…gone. His mate…gone. He stopped in his tracks, his breath becoming labored as his spark throbbed. It was agony. Living without her was agony. He never realized just how much he'd loved Elita until it was far too late.
Prime moaned softly, pressing his large frame against the wall and shuttering his optics. Separation. He was alone. Completely, irreversibly alone. He had killed his brother. His brother had killed his mate. Both Megatron and Elita gone…
What now?
He forced his optics to come online. The war was over. He could resign from the military without worrying about what consequences it would have on his men. But what else was there for him to do in life? Sit around in some care home for old pieces of scrap and play chips? Act his age for once?
No.
No, Optimus Prime was more than that. He'd lived it all; he'd lived the excitement and the adrenaline and the exhilaration. Go into a care home, act like an old mech ready for the scrap heap?
No way in hell.
Not that he had the strength to do much else anymore.
The pain in his spark unbearable, and sure he was alone for the moment, he sank to his knees and wept.
Five vorns, two hundred sixty-three deca-cycles, two orns…
Dammit, girl, stop counting.
I can't. He promised.
And he broke it. Get over it.
I can't just forget.
Sure you can.
I won't.
Uh, you have to.
Elita One inhaled deeply, scowling at the closest wall of her small apartment. The war was over. The words hadn't quite registered, no matter how frequently she repeated them to herself. Sure, the war was over. No more cannons. No more shooting. No more black outs when Decepticon air raids swept too close to the city. No more hiding in the lower levels of the metropolis with the other femmes, clutching her sparkling against her chest, fighting the urge to whip her rifle from subspace and slag some 'Cons.
Oh goody.
She lent her forehead in her palms, shuttering her optics. His face burst forth in her mind: unscarred, unmasked, beautiful, pure. She moaned softly as her spark writhed in pain. How she missed him…
Her beloved Optimus.
"Mama?"
She lifted her head quickly and sighed, letting her frame relax. "Novus," she said softly, sliding from her seat at the dining platform and striding across the room to take her sparkling into her arms. "What are you doing up?"
"Had a nightmare," the little femme replied, looking at her mother with pleading optics. "Couldn't sleep."
Elita sighed and nuzzled her daughter gently, kissing the child's helm. "You're more like your father than I thought. Would you like to recharge with me tonight?"
The sparkling bobbed her head up and down, and with a smile Elita made her way down the rather short hallway, tickling her child as she went. Novus giggled wildly, quieting only when they settled onto the recharge berth. Within moments, she was out again, face down and snoring lightly into the headrest. Elita snuggled her daughter into the thermal blankets, wrapping her slender frame around the sparkling, who remained fast asleep.
"Some nightmare," Elita snorted, shuttering her optics as her daughter's spark settled into a more rhythmic beat. "Look at you, snoring away. I didn't know sparklings were even capable of snoring."
She trailed off, her spark aching again. Novus squirmed uncomfortably, and Elita made sure to keep her emotions more in check. But she couldn't stop the memories that threatened to overcome her…
Optimus always snored.
It was annoying when one was trying to recharge, but at that moment, Elita would have given anything in the world--with the exception of her sparkling--to hear her mech snoring again.
The door alarm buzzed loudly, and Elita groaned. Who in all hell would be visiting at--she glanced at the chronometer--two in the morning? Grumbling, but careful not to disturb her sleeping child, the femme gracefully extracted herself from the recharge berth, hurrying to the door.
"I'm coming, shut up already," she growled, as the alarm buzzed again. "I've got a sleeping sparkling in here…"
Already irate with her unexpected visitor, she inhaled deeply, prepared for a tirade, and opened the door. All her air caught in her vents.
A very mechanical shriek shook the tiny apartment's walls as a blue-green femme suddenly leapt at her, as four strong limbs latched around her. Elita staggered under her visitor's weight, stunned out of her processor. What…?
"ELITA! OH MY PRIMUS ALMIGHTY, IT'S TRUE! YOU'RE ALIVE! AFTER THE DISASTER AT PAXUS BETA, WE ALL THOUGHT--OH PRIMUS, NO WAY! NO SLAGGING WAY IN HELL! YOU'RE ALIVE!"
"…Chromia?" Elita One managed blankly. It was the only designation she could come up with for the suddenly sobbing femme.
"Yes, it's me, you idiot," Chromia wailed, squeezing her friend painfully hard. "Dammit, how could you?! We're all fighting this stupid war, and you're here, you didn't even tell us you were alive, I actually had to go to Alpha Trion, but actually he came to me, and he told me, and oh Primus what is Optimus going to say? Oh yeah, wait until I tell Iron--"
"Stop," Elita said abruptly, her spark racing. "Stop. What did you just say?"
"Well, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to say that I need to tell Ironhide you haven't been reduced to a smoldering pile of slag…"
"No, no, before that. You said…Optimus…"
"Yeah?"
Elita swallowed dryly. "He's…alive?" she choked out.
Chromia's optics widened, and her jaw dropped. "You didn't…you thought…? Oh, Elita! What in Primus's good name have you been through these past few vorns?!"
"Too much," Elita moaned, clutching her friend for support. "I thought he was gone, Chromia. I thought he'd been killed. I'd heard about some crisis on Nebulon…and I thought…"
"He was hurt, he was hurt bad," Chromia soothed softly, rubbing her former commander's back. "We didn't think he was going to make it. He was pronounced dead in the papers"--Elita nodded, as this was where she had received the information-- "but Ratchet managed to save him in the end. We didn't put out any updates on it, because we wanted to lull the Decepticons into a false sense of security for awhile…but, oh, Elita, if we had known you were still alive…and here…"
"I thought you were gone, too," Elita groaned, hugging her friend tightly. "You and Prowl and Ironhide…you were all on Nebulon that day, and I knew that none of you would ever let Optimus die alone like that…"
"Of course we wouldn't…hey, can I come in or what? Close the door, we need to talk."
"Yes, yes, of course," Elita said hastily, unwillingly breaking from her friend's grasp and punching the code into the control panel. The door slid closed, and Chromia hurriedly embraced her once more.
"I cannot believe this," the lieutenant laughed weakly, smiling. "I was so sure…we all were…we thought Megatron had killed you. Alpha Trion came to me the very day the war was pronounced over and told me you may still be alive…I've been scouring city records ever since. I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner…"
"Don't be. I'm glad you're safe. Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet…they're all okay?"
"Yup. We didn't lose anyone out of Optimus's inner circle, don't worry."
"Bumblebee?"
"Safe and sound," Chromia quipped brightly, and Elita sighed her relief.
"Thank Primus."
"Optimus," Chromia said abruptly, standing back and holding her friend at arms' length. "Do you want me to contact him? He'll want to know you're okay. He's been absolutely miserable without you, Lita, he even…" she broke off, and Elita cocked her head.
"He even--?" she prompted, and Chromia swallowed.
"He tried to kill himself," she managed quietly, and Elita's energon ran cold. "The day after you were pronounced dead. His vocalizers went offline…he couldn't speak, not a word. And then…that night…he went into his quarters early…and later, we heard…his rifle…" she trailed off, seeing the shock and horror in Elita's face. "He missed his spark chamber. Turns out he has awful aim even at point blank range," she joked weakly, but the former femme commander didn't laugh. Chromia sighed and hugged her friend again, squeezing tightly. "Elita. He's okay now. He's going to be more than okay, he'll have you back!"
"Chromia…I can't…" Elita mumbled numbly, but her friend had already resumed her normal super-fast speech pattern.
Optimus was alive. Breathing. Healthy, at least physically. Beautiful, gentle, alive.
"I want to see him," she whispered, hot tears welling in her optics. Chromia paused in her tirade and blinked. Elita lowered her head slightly, liquid trickling down her cheeks. "I want…I want to see him," she repeated, her voice trembling. "I want to see him again…!"
Chromia smiled and wiped a tear from her friend's face. "Of course. I'll contact him first thing when we wake up, okay? Oh, is it alright if I crash here tonight? I kinda rushed here on impulse…"
"If you don't stay with me, I'm dooming you to all hell," Elita growled, taking her friend's hand and wiping her cheeks with the other. "But first, there's someone I want you to meet."
Chromia blinked, confused, but allowed herself to be steered through the small apartment to a room at the end of a short hallway. Either Elita was struggling financially, or was making for herself the modest existence Optimus had always promised her.
"Novus," Elita cooed, and Chromia realized she was bent over a small body upon the recharge berth. "Wake up, baby. I want you to meet an old friend."
"Who?" a tiny voice mumbled drowsily, and Chromia's spark raced. Femme instinct.
A very small sparkling sat up, rubbing at very tired optics at her mother's coaxing. She was Optimus Prime in miniature, femme form. Her tiny body already carried hints of his beautiful midnight blue armor, and tender azure optics blinked sleepily up at the newcomer.
"Who's that?" Novus asked woozily, her tiny faceplates scrunching into a yawn as her mother scooped her up.
"This is Chromia," Elita said, smiling at Chromia's stunned expression. "I've told you about her, remember?"
Novus's optics widened slightly. "She's pretty," she whispered loudly, and Chromia laughed even through her surprise.
"Same to you," she said weakly, stepping closer and touching the little femme's face. "Primus above, you look just like your father. But I'm sure you've been told that over and over again, huh?"
"Yup," Novus said, smiling proudly. "Mama says I'm lucky to have her aft, tho'…"
Chromia snorted at the sparkling's colorful choice in words, and Elita winced apologetically. "Chromia's gonna stay with us for awhile," she said quietly, stroking her daughter's faceplates. "Is that okay with you?"
"Uh-huh," Novus mumbled, resting against her mother's chassis. "Good with me."
Elita smiled and kissed the child's helm before slipping her sparkling back under the blankets. Within moments, the daughter of Prime was asleep once more.
"She's beautiful," Chromia breathed as she followed Elita out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. "Optimus isn't going to believe this…When…?"
"Shortly after I moved in here," Elita replied quietly, moving into the kitchen area and removing two cubes of energon for she and her friend. "I realized I was going to house a sparkling as I was recovering from the Paxus Beta incident. I was escorted here with military honors from Pentadron, and given this apartment free of charge. And I just…never went back. I didn't want to leave any of you, really," she added, looking pained. "I thought you were all gone, and…I couldn't keep fighting with a sparkling waiting for me at home, Chromia. I just couldn't do it. If I were to die, I thought she'd have been all alone…she may never have found Optimus."
"She would have found her lineage eventually," Chromia said firmly, locking her former commander in a hard gaze over the edge of her energon cube, her optics aflame. "The daughter of Prime is destiny bound to find her place in this world."
"She's all that's kept me going," Elita sighed softly, shuttering her optics. "The knowledge that she's here because of the love Optimus and I shared, the knowledge that there's a piece of him in her…it's kept me alive."
"Thank Primus," Chromia added, smiling happily. "I can't believe this. I've thought you were dead for five vorns, Elita. Only Primus knows how happy I am to discover I was wrong."
"Thank Primus, Primus only knows…don't tell me this war has turned you religious?" Elita joked lightly, arching an optic ridge, and Chromia laughed.
"Hey, when you fear your head is gonna get blown off, why not pray to the big man?" she snorted, rolling her optics. "Oh, don't let me forget--right after I call Optimus, I need to contact Firestar and Moonracer as well."
Elita's spark soared at the mention of her younger comrades. "How are those two doing?"
"Morons," Chromia said flatly, and Elita laughed. "Firestar still can't follow orders worth a crap, and Moonracer's still a careless, bumbling little idiot--she sprung every trap in the Decepticon base, I swear to Primus on high…but enough of this, we'll have time to catch up all the way tomorrow. I know this is a lot to process, and I interrupted your recharge, and you look dead on your feet, so you are going to sleep. I'll crash on the couch, if you haven't got any objections."
"I've got a spare berth…"
"Save it," Chromia replied, smirking. "Optimus'll be wanting a place to sleep, won't he?"
"He'll be with me," Elita said, grinning widely. Oh, to have Optimus pressed against her in her recharge berth again, to taste his lips once more and feel his body move against hers, to feel the might of his spark, to shudder again at his passionate touch…
She missed him.
Optimus Prime's comm link went off a hundred times too early the next morning. Groaning quietly, he rolled over and sat up, fumbling with his communications programming. It whirred quietly as the rest of his systems booted up--far too slowly.
"Prime," he grunted into the link after a moment, finally bringing it online.
"Optimus, it's Chromia!"
"You sound excited," he said tiredly, rubbing his optics. "Can this wait, Chromia? It's too early for this, and I--"
"Elita's alive."
He paused, blinking. "Excuse me?"
"Elita's alive," Chromia repeated breathlessly. "She's in Pentadron, she's been living here for the past five vorns…"
Glitch of the audio receptors. Surely.
"Optimus, are you still there? Can you hear me okay?"
"Quit screwing with me," he said, a little more harshly than he meant to.
"I'm not, Optimus," she replied defiantly, and he could almost see his faithful lieutenant swelling indignantly. "I'm serious as hell. I'm in her apartment."
"Elita died at Paxus Beta," he argued. He couldn't let himself believe. What if it was a lie? A cheap trick? A mess up? A fluke? What if he got his spark bent on seeing her again, on holding her, only to find out that she was still gone?
"And she thought you died on Nebulon," Chromia said sternly. "She's been living for the past five vorns with the solid belief that you were gone…just as you have been, believing her dead."
"Megatron killed her," he choked out, his hands gripping the edges of his berth. "Don't try and get my hopes up…"
"Optimus, why would I do that to you?" she asked gently, lowering her voice. "Why would I try and hurt you like that?"
His breath froze in his intakes. "She's alive?" he breathed, hardly daring to hope. Hope? Now? What a ridiculous thought. He should have been at the care home, playing chips with…
"She's alive," Chromia whispered, and he could see her tears vividly in his mind's eye. "Optimus, she's here in Pentadron. She's waiting for you. She wants to see you."
His frame sagged forward, and he pressed his face into his hands. "Oh, Primus," he moaned shakily. "Chromia, tell me once more. Tell me this isn't just some sick joke."
"This is no joke. Elita One is alive."
He shuttered his optics. He let her words sink in. Elita. His Elita. Alive?
"I'm coming."
Chromia respectfully departed from the apartment the day he was due to arrive. Elita didn't even try to convince her to stay; she wanted this day with her mech. Her lover. Her sparkmate, her true other half. She wanted him that day more than anything else in the world.
Exactly two point three breems before the designated time, Optimus Prime stood nervously outside her door, breathing heavily. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to act. Should he kiss her? Hold her? Apologize? Make her apologize? Should he make small talk? Try to interface with her? Renew their sparkbond? Hold her hand? Should he even say anything? Or should he simply hold her in his gaze, look at her and touch her for the first time in five long vorns…
He inhaled deeply, and, without knowing what the hell he planned to do, knocked on her door.
There was a long, timid pause. He swallowed, considered leaving, but then the door opened. His breath froze in his intakes, his optics opened wide.
Elita.
She was there, her rose-colored armor illuminating by the rising sun behind her. Primus, what time was it? Not that he cared. He had thoughts only for the femme before him.
Five vorns. Five vorns apart, five vorns during which they had not spoken, had not touched, had not even been able to see the face of the other. Had not been able to sense each other's spark, because both had believed with all their spark that their lover was dead and gone.
He saw her lips move. No words came out. She couldn't move. He couldn't move. Neither could breathe. Their sparks were still.
He'd forgotten his mask, he realized, in his haste to come see her. She had obviously noticed; her optics seemed focused exclusively on her face. As were his on hers, he decided.
He reached out to her, his spark still oddly frozen within him. She stepped closer, shivered as his warm fingers came to caress her cheek. He shuddered; he'd forgotten how she felt. The smoothness of her alloyed metals. The beauty in her face. Primus, how could he have forgotten?
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
He was alive.
So beautiful.
So strong.
So wonderfully alive.
"Optimus," she whispered, and a moment later was in his arms. At last. She sobbed into his neck plates, clutching the mech she still loved, tears rushing freely from her optics as he held her. He dragged her closer than she'd ever been before, pressing his face against her helm, memorizing her feel, her scent, her taste when he lightly kissed her armor.
His sparkmate. So close.
Alive and breathing in his arms once more.
He lifted her into his arms, still unable to speak. He did not know his way around her apartment, but he seemed to instinctively find her living room. Seating himself upon the couch, he adjusted her into his lap, allowing her to sob freely against him. She wailed incoherently for only Primus knew how long, and he listened. She poured her spark out to him--verbally and through their bond--and for the first time in five vorns, he heard every word. He said nothing, but he was there, his arms around her, his spark finally close to hers.
"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered into his audio receptor. "I thought you'd died."
"…Elita," he murmured, not because it was a good reply to her statement; but because he'd wanted to feel her name on his lips for a long time. "I could never leave you behind."
"I know that now," she moaned, pressing closer to him. "Dammit. Don't you ever do this to me again, understand? It hurt too much, Optimus, it hurt so damned bad! Don't leave me again!"
He nodded slowly, rocking her in his arms. His sparkmate, his love, his Elita. The femme wrapped so tenderly in his embrace was nothing like the strong commander he'd fallen in love with eons ago; this femme was broken, in pain, and by Primus he was going to heal her.
If it was the last thing he did, he would heal her spark.
"Look at me," he whispered, tucking a finger under her chin and lifting her face to meet her optics with his. "Look at me, my love. I am here. You're here. For one day at least, can we forget about everything else?"
"I haven't been able to forget about you for five vorns," she breathed, her optics probing every detail of his handsome face. "I tried…but I didn't want to."
He grimaced, the pain in his spark his own. She'd tried to forget him?
"You tried to forget me, too," she murmured, shuttering her optics and pressing her face to his broad chest, her fingers stroking his marred, sore armor. "And I tried to forget you. But…"
"My spark is bonded to yours," he whispered into her audio receptor, drawing her closer. "Forever. I could never forget you, my Elita, my love. You are mine and mine alone…just as I am yours."
"Forever," she breathed, lacing her fingers with his. "Thank Primus…I've missed you, Optimus."
"And I you," he replied, smiling into her beautiful face. "You have no idea how much, Lita."
She pulled his mouth to hers, trapping him in her kiss. She took him in just as gently, as tenderly, as she had before their separation. Moaning softly, he eased himself atop her, trapping her lithe body beneath him.
"I love you," she sighed against his lips. "I love you, Optimus Prime."
He kissed her again, nodding briefly. He knew. He'd known for a very long time. Known from the moment she'd told him eons ago, from that moment under the moon, when she had stepped close and turned her face to look up at him, her hands intertwined with his. He had known from the first moment the tender words had escaped her lips.
He had loved her long before.
"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, lifting his lips from hers to peer cautiously into her face. "Why are you here, in Pentadron? Why didn't you come back?"
"You were pronounced dead before I'd recovered from the Paxus Beta accident," she whispered, her arms clutching around his strong shoulders. "I already told you. I thought you were dead. I didn't see any other reason to go back…I couldn't go on without you."
He stroked her face, his optics betraying his pain. "I never felt you reach out to me," he said softly, taking her hand and holding it to his chest. Right over his spark. "You never called to me."
"I didn't want to know for sure," she murmured, tears building in her optics once more. "I was…scared. I didn't want to reach out to you and feel nothingness…I didn't want to have to face darkness without you in it. You, my light…"
"You stole my line," he joked softly, smiling. "Forgive me, my love. I didn't reach out to you, either. For the same reasons. I already assumed you dead…I didn't need it confirmed for myself."
She nodded and kissed him softly, massaging his lips with her own. Drawing her hips to his, he slipped his glossa over her supple lips, coaxing her mouth open. Her glossa met his, trapped his, invaded his mouth. He moaned profoundly, a low growl in his chest, deepening their kiss. Passion got the better of both, but then, this was what they had been craving. Passion with their bonded sparkmate. What could be more satisfying?
"Mama?"
The lovers separated instantly, both of their heads snapping to the side to see the sparkling standing not two feet away, her optics wide with shock. Her gaze was fixed on Optimus. Fixed on the mech who had just been doing…something…to her mother. But…she frowned slightly. There was an odd tugging in her spark. Something in her wanted very much to jump into this strange mech's arms, let him kiss her and hold her and tell her he loved her…
"Novus," Elita said quietly, squirming, and Optimus moved off of her. She didn't let go of him even as she motioned to her daughter. She wasn't letting go of her love for a long while yet. "Come here, little one. You need…I want you to meet him."
"Who?" Novus asked cautiously, her optics still glued to those of Optimus Prime.
Elita bit her lip, glancing at her sparkmate. His mouth was open slightly; he was every bit as shocked as the sparkling. Of course. Optimus didn't know. He didn't know…
"She's yours," Elita whispered to him, clutching him close. "Ours. Novus Genesis Prime is your daughter, Optimus."
"…Mine?" he breathed, his optics locking upon the sparkling. "Novus…?"
"Who?" Novus pressed, tearing her optics from Prime and looking pleadingly at her mother. "Who?"
"Novus," Elita whispered, her voice shaking. "This is your father."
The child's optics widened, and her small frame tightened. "Father?" she repeated in a whimper, looking slowly back at Optimus. "…Papa?"
He leaned forward and opened his arms to her. "Come here, my little one," he said quietly, his expression softening. His daughter. His baby girl. "Come here, Novus."
She took a step forward, glancing uncertainly at her mother. Then, without warning, she lost all self control, diving into Optimus's waiting arms with a sob. "Father! Father! Papa!"
He pulled his sparkling close, shuttering his optics tight. After a moment's concentration, he felt it; her tiny spark, pulsing in perfect synchronization with his.
"Primus almighty," he whispered, extending one arm to pull his beloved Elita close, still hugging his newfound daughter to his chest. "To think--a few joors ago I thought you were dead."
She laughed softly; she had missed his dry humor. "Far from it," she sighed, kissing his cheek. "Far from it…"
Here with him…I'm very much alive.
Tell me if ya want another chapter. I'll write it. Hope you enjoyed, hope you'll review.