They climbed out of the water and onto the hidden shore at sunset; beneath the blood-red and golden sky they disappeared into the trees, racing away from the sun.
The world thought they were dead. And that was exactly what they wanted.
It was part of the Plan. The Plan. Optimus stood by the right that freedom was the light of all sentient beings, and he stood by that still. So they could not fight. But once the humans saw; once they finally realized the Decepticons' capacity for war, and their rage at being forced to hide in secret for fifty years and being defeated time and time again- then they would see, then they would know, and they would realize they could not do this alone. The Autobots just had to make them see it first.
And that meant that Chicago would fall. They knew it even as they waited in the dark of the forest for nightfall, knew it even as they counted down the seconds till dark beneath the whispering branches.
This had happened before on Cybertron. This would happen now. Neutral cities had been besieged by the Decepticons after turning down Autobot help, and though the sacrifices were heavy, Optimus would not force his troops upon their gates and force protection upon them, because then they were no better than the Decepticons themselves. Who were penetrating their borders? What faction truly took the city? What soldiers were overrunning the streets? Who really won?
Optimus would never do that, not even here, on Earth. He would not allow the Autobots to become the dominating power. He would not be Sentinel.
But his greatest fear was not for Turning. It was not even for Chicago. It was for Sam.
Bumblebee was silent. He sat with his back against a pine tree, not moving, staring sightlessly at the ground with dim optics. Optimus walked over, careful to step lightly as a precaution, and stood over him, one hand ready to retract his energon blade at any time. In case they are discovered by something…less than friendly.
He doesn't say anything. He doesn't offer a clap to the shoulder and a light hand to the helm. He just stood, silent, watching over them, grieving and worrying silently with the scout, who he knew guilt was clawing out his insides even as he saw him.
There is a steely courage in Sam. He will not sit back while thousands die- not again. And he sure as slagging hell won't stand by with his own in danger.
He is going to leave for Chicago. Tonight. Optimus knows it; Bee knows it; and perhaps the others know it too.
The Autobot leader looked up to the stars, his optics focusing like the lens of a camera on their fiery cores, so far away. One of those stars, too dim for the humans to see, was once his home.
He offered a prayer that they will get their first. That he will be safe. That all of them that they have come to care about so much will be safe.
He knew what telling Sam that he would always be his friend right before the Xantium got blown out of the sky must be doing to the boy's heart. But he had to give him some piece of assurance, some hope in the hours he knew in his spark weren't going to be easy for the boy.
He thought of Ironhide as it grew dark. And he thought of Sentinel.
They're wondering what he's going to do. All of them are. But Optimus can't tell them, because he can't truly voice an answer yet. Either way, this will be the end. He knows it. Can feel it. This is the Decepticon's last chance, and whoever wins this battle will win peace-or destruction- for Earth, forever.
The must not fail. Not matter who falls, they must not fail.
Earth won't pay for his mistakes. He was sure of that with Megatron and the Allspark; he's damn sure of that now. And it's not just some primitive, innocent planet anymore.
It's home.
Night has totally fallen. Darkness has taken the sky. With steel in his spark and ice in his processor, he and the other Autobots made their way silently through the trees till they reached the deserted highway. They transformed quietly, and his headlights flickered on and his engine roared to life as he rushed foreword, leading his mechs into uncertain disaster.
The night raced by, the dashes on the road turning to blue and the trees moving till the forest on either side became two solid walls of black. Only the cold, flickering stars above refused to move more quickly.
He's going to kill Sentinel. He knows it, his soldiers probably know it, maybe even the ex-Autobot himself knows it, or think he's going to try. There's an iron in his soul that's never been there before, and if this was Cybertron, or any other circumstance, he wouldn't have it in himself to do it.
But they have gone too far. They took so much on Cybertron, and here, he thought he could suffer no worse, but he has.
They have taken Ironhide. They have taken the peace of an entire planet that doesn't even belong in this conflict. And they have taken the bond of trust between friends.
He doesn't forgive Sam for wearing that watch, because he never blamed him in the first place. But pushing him- someone so young, so innocent- to do that to the beings he cares about like family…Optimus would let his own troops fall. He would let his own spark snuff out every day to save them. He would let the shell of Cybertron die, and the reason why is because all of the above have given themselves to protect and sacrifice, and he respects that. But he will not let such a young, innocent planet suffer such a fate.
Not here. Not Earth. Not them.
He drives on through the night, thinking of one thing and one thing only; Sentinel, and what the slag he is going to do once he gets to ground zero. To Chicago.
Again, another story that completly hijacked my keyboard and wrote itself out on a sweet-tea sugar high when I should be doing my Spanish summer work. Oh well. For the love of God- REVIEW! thanks :)
