Death Bed

Optimus lied on the table as Perceptor analyzed him. He knew it was in vain. They both did. Optimus was dying right then and there. They both knew it and only Optimus accepted it. Perceptor would rather have died than let his commanding officer fall. They had been friends ever since Optimus became just that, Optimus. Perceptor had helped Alpha Trion reconstruct the broken Orion Pax. It was then that Optimus appointed Perceptor the head of the medical and scientific staff; he was no doubt the smartest and most medically experienced Autobot.

With the right equipment.

Since the Decepticons attacked Autobot City, or New Iacon, Perceptor had been unable to locate any remains of neither his work nor his colleagues. Without his tools, which were probably the first to be stepped on by Devastator, Perceptor was lost. All he could do was search through Optimus' crippled body for any signs of survival for his leader. He found none.

Things were looking grim. The Decepticons had severely crippled the Autobots' defenses. Most of their finest men were dead. Ratchet, Prowl, Wheeljack, Brawn, and the one that stung Optimus the most: Ironhide. Not to mention the armada of drones they had been manufacturing; they were all gone. Now Optimus was slipping away on the table in the destroyed med center. After what seemed like hours, Perceptor transformed. His transformation was painful to him. He wanted to stay in his scope form forever; to not have to tell his Autobot friends the news. The news that would make a greater impact than they could've imagined. The news that would bring unbearable sadness to them for as long as they lived.

"I fear the wounds are… fatal."

Six tiny little words. All on their own insignificant. Together could shatter the Earth. All at once the words shot through them all worse than any Decepticon could. It brought a new kind of pain, a new kind of grief, a new kind of shock. What could they say? The only sound that resonated through the room was Daniel's quiet sobs. "Prime, you can't die…"

Then Optimus spoke. His voice shook the very walls. His bended mouthpiece moved down with each syllable that made their way through his covered lips. "Do not grief. Soon… I shall be one with the Matrix."

The Matrix. Up until recently, the Matrix had been for the most part concealed from the world. Optimus never spoke of it, mostly for his connection with the late Zeta Prime. 'Touchy' was an understatement for that particular subject. Zeta had raised Optimus, trained him, lived for him, died for him. He was slain by Megatron himself. It was for that reason Optimus had always sort of separated himself from the Autobots. He talked with them and fought with them, but he never gave himself to them. He never had a true conversation with any of them.

Optimus turned his head slowly to the blue Autobot next to him. "U… Ultra Magnus… It is to you, old friend." Magnus knew what Optimus was doing. The Matrix had to be passed. For if someone died while holding the Matrix inside of them, it died with them. The Matrix was created from the very core of Cybertron in the third age of Primes. It was the last remaining bit of their home planet left.

"I shall pass the Matrix as it was… passed to me."

Ultra Magnus held up his hand. As much as he wanted to own that sort of power, he knew he needed to be capable of owning it. "Prime, I… I'm just a soldier, I… I'm not worthy."

Through his mouthpiece, Magnus could've sworn Optimus was smiling. "Nor was I. But one day… an Autobot shall… rise from our ranks… and light… our darkest hour." It was when he spoke 'hour' that Optimus felt a bit of Energon form at his optic, a tear as humans would call it. His chest whirred and cogs shifted themselves. It hurt him to move, but he knew it wasn't going to matter. Flaps on his upper chasse opened themselves. A final piece of black metal lifted to reveal a shining piece of golden material encasing a sparkly blue light. Optimus removed the Matrix from its harness and presented it to his successor.

"Until that day… Till all are one." His arm fell. All traces of strength disappeared from him as the Matrix slipped from his hand. His optics widened ever so slightly as his life force began to leave him. It fluttered out of his metal body as though it were a swarm of butterflies leaving their home. It circled up and looped around itself. Optimus knew he was the only one who could see it, but it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He heard Magnus' chest case close tight, securing the Matrix from harm. Optimus' job was done. The butterflies flew into the ceiling and disappeared.

His optics flickered a bit. Perceptor glanced at the spark rate monitor. The quiet beeping and visual traces of light slowly halted and moved without any doubt of a monotonous pace. The red and blue chasse quivered a bit and the bright blue optics flickered and darkened. The Autobots leaned forward as all color and signs of life left Optimus Prime.

The Autobot leader and the 7th age of Primes…

was over.