Okay, guys. I know you're going to hate us for this chapter. Just bear with us. We do happy endings, remember? But I'm going to have to remember to remove Oil Slick from the character thing on here. Sorry. You got a happy Optimus/Oil Slick fic from us, remember? It is the Princess Oil Slick one in my stories. Go read that. It'll cheer you up after this o3o

I'm updating tomorrow, so don't worry :V

Transformers belongs to Hasbro

Optimus hums softly as he takes out the datapad he was sent, absently copying it to his processor like he normally does, and smiles at the large amount of candy that Oil Slick has sent him. It has been several vorns since they went to the World's End, and Oil Slick has been modifying his frame so that he can actually make the candy there just for Optimus. His beloved has just recently gotten it perfect, and Optimus is looking forward to eating the entire batch with Oil Slick one piece at a time on the hotel berth.

He opens the file from Oil Slick, smiling at the warm greeting that Oil Slick always begins with now. My Spark, it has been so long since I spoke to you, and so long since I've felt the warmth of your arms around me. I have betrayed you.

Optimus stops there, staring at the words for a long time. Betrayed?

He reads on, and optical lubricants spill down his cheeks as Oil Slick confesses to interfacing with other bots. Confesses that he's been interfacing other bots for a vorn now, without even giving Optimus the slightest hint of it. Never telling him. Never inviting or asking, never letting him know. Optimus's spark feels like it's breaking in half. He does not understand how he could have driven Oil Slick to do this. He's tried so hard to be everything the mech needs, and now-

He drops the datapad and buries his face in his hands, sobbing openly.

He's not sure what happened next, but the next thing he knows, he's curled up in Sentinel's berth, and he can hear Elita-1 ranting angrily. "What the frag did Yoketron think he was doing? Stealing a bonding wrap? What the frag? How could he do this sort of thing and expect to not have his top student freak out about the fact that he's being forced to do slag he hates?"

Sentinel rocks him gently back and forth, "Ninjabots don't get this sort of thing, Elita. They really don't. They get peace, they get serenity. They don't understand monogamy. Didn't Optimus say that Oil Slick is Haydon IV nobility? They really don't have that sort of thing join the ninjabots."

"We have to turn this file in," Elita-1 says, holding the datapad, her servos shaking with rage. "He's admitting to offlining dozens of bots. This has to be reported. It's evidence of his guilt."

Optimus keens, reaching for the pad, "No, no please. Don't." He clutches the pad to his chest, shaking with sobs. "Don't . . I don't want bots to think of him this way. It's . . it's not his f-fault. He was driven to this. They . . it's not his fault."

Sentinel gives him a pained look, "Optimus... He... he offlined Master Yoketron. We can't not turn in the datapad. It will only count against us if we don't. You have a copy of it, don't you?"

He nods, extremely reluctant to give it up. He hasn't actually read through it all yet, it hurts him too much. He's only gotten to how he's been betrayed. "I just-"

Elita-1 takes the pad back, "Then I'm turning this in. You need to understand that your safety is paramount, Optimus. We don't want you to be kicked out because he did this. You're assured to be a Prime. An Elite Guard. There's no way you can't be unless you screw it up. Not turning this in? That is screwing it up. I will do it for you. You stay with Sentinel."

Optimus curls up against the blue mech and sobs louder, hiding his face against Sentinel's chest. With this . . his betrothal to Oil Slick is officially ended. His beloved fragged other bots, made it public, and . . became a murderer. He keens, his spark shattering into a million pieces. He'll never feel happiness again. Not after this.

He sobs himself ragged, eventually worked down to sniffles of misery, his frame shaking profoundly every time he thinks of Oil Slick. "Shh," Sentinel soothes him, "recharge, Optimus. Recharge. We will watch over you. Recharge, and rest. It will be better in the morning."

He clings to Sentinel and sobs himself to recharge.

It takes Optimus several solar cycles, but eventually he manages to read all the way through the letter. It essentially explains how from the very beginning the senseis had been pressuring Oil Slick to break up with Optimus, and be 'free of all restraints' and frag anyone he wanted. They had kept trying to steal and touch his bonding wrap randomly every time they saw him and would never let up on him on anything.

It wasn't very surprising that Oil Slick broke.

Optimus just wishes he had listened and returned to Haydon IV like he'd been asked. No... begged. Oil Slick had begged him several times by the end to give up on being a Prime and just go back to Haydon IV. Anything but be on Cybertron.

Optimus can't help but feel a little bit happy that Yoketron and the other senseis are offline.

He feels a bit guilty about it as well, but he's not letting that ruin him. He had to . . he had two very unpleasant conversations-one with Oil Slick's creators, and one with his own. Both had begged him to come back to Haydon IV as well, but with the deaths of so many bots, Optimus cannot.

He did not have the spark to tell them that he was currently under investigation as well, simply because he had been betrothed to Oil Slick. There's no doubt he'll turn up innocent, but he is being investigated, and there's nothing he can do about that. Nothing at all. He can't go home, no matter how much he wants to curl up in his creators' arms.

There are whispers that he is in danger.

Oil Slick's note had . . . at the very end, it had concluded with a simple message to him. You are still mine. You will always be mine, and I will make you understand that I am sorry. That I am sorry for hurting you. I'll get you, Optimus, and take you with me, and keep you safe from them all. Safe from the bots who betrayed me. You are mine. I will speak with you soon.

It is.. deeply unsettling.

For now he is continuing with his classes and working on what he needs to do. Even if his spark feels like it is broken into millions of pieces, and he feels half offline.

Not that it really matters, since he's been called to talk to Ultra Magnus, and is standing in front of the bot in his office. The mech gives him a strained smile, "Optimus. I would like to say that-"

Optimus is not really in any sort of mood to deal with the bot, and looks at Ultra right in the optics, "You... you could have stopped this. You knew it was going on, and you never stopped it. You never stopped it."

"No, Optimus," the mech says softly, "I had no idea what was going on. I knew he was under stress from his senseis, but all ninjabots undergo significant stress during their training. It is difficult, learning what they teach, and-" he's stopped by the sharp slap of Optimus's servo against his cheek.

"You touched his bonding wrap. You made the senseis think it was acceptable to touch a bonding wrap. To look at it." Optimus turns from him, "You drove my betrothed mad, and now he," his intakes hitch, and he can feel optical lubricants prickling him again, "he is officially no longer betrothed to me. His creators saw his letter, and they," he clenches his servos, "apologized and severed our union."

Ultra puts a servo on his shoulder, but he slaps it away. "If I had realized, I never would have done it. I am sure you already know that your loom and everything else is out of quarantine, since it is well known that you find sewing and weaving soothing. You can take your time off just... making clothing. Do what you like. No one will take that from you, Optimus. Anything you wish will be there for you. It is a very stressful time for you. It is a stressful time for everyone. Just..." The mech sighs softly, "Just try to relax."

"You just try to relax," Optimus hisses, aware that it makes little sense; all he wants to do is go fall back into recharge. Endless cycles of recharge and misery.

Ultra Magnus sighs, "Your supplies will be in your quarters. You are being given access to better energon rations and more leave-time. We hope that you will choose to stay with us and continue your education as an Autobot, and hopefully enter the Autobot Academy." The mech looks away, "Mistakes were made. Unforgivable mistakes, yet we hope you have the capacity to forgive them. We are Autobots. We learn from the errors we make, and we do not repeat them again."

He walks out of the office without saying anything, unsure if he can even care.

Sentinel puts a servo on his shoulder, "Optimus... I think... I have enough hats now."

He carefully puts the finishing touches on the latest one he's made for Sentinel, after doing so many just by servo, using the loom is almost insanely fast. Elita had banned him from making her after the tenth he presented her with, and he's rather surprised that Sentinel has been so tolerant to let him go up to fifty. "If that's what you want."

Sentinel takes the hat from him, carefully placing it in subspace. "How about you start to make us cloaks? How does that sound?"

He hums carelessly, going back to his loom, "I like hats."

Sentinel puts a servo on his own, "You've said. But you need to do other things. How about you come spar with me? Kup wants you to try out one of his courses. I'd like you to try one with me and Elita. We don't even have to do it blindfolded. We can just... go in. You can wear your clothing, and nothing will happen."

Optimus stands reluctantly, "Alright. I'll come with you." He dusts his cloak and chestwrap off, wishing he could just stay at his loom. But he still wants to graduate bootcamp. He wants to move on to the Academy, and he's so very close to being able to do so. He can't let . . . he has to move forward. "Don't expect me to score as well as I used to. I am very much out of practice." He adjusts his hat so it covers his headfins more modestly.

Sentinel adjusts his cloak, tying his chest wrap a little more effectively, "No one expects you to be perfect, Optimus. We just want you out there. You can do this. We know you can."

He nods, leaning against the mech, and letting himself be cuddled, "I guess." His spark aches, and he just wants to sit back down and not think, "Is there anything specific we're doing this sol? Or did Kup just want me there so I don't fall too far behind?"

"It is close combat, your specialty. He wants you to try your best. If you don't do well, that's okay, but we just want you to try."

"Alright." He tries to focus on something positive. His creators love him very much, and they had just called him a sol ago to inform him that if he was accepted into the Academy, they were making enough now that they could pay part of his tuition. He would still need to find a way to finance the rest of the tuition and his room and board, but he suspects that Oil Slick's creators will pay part of that, leaving him with out petty expenses to have to worry about. Thinking of Oil Slick makes his spark twinge again.

"Kup's missed seeing you," Sentinel says softly, walking with him out of the room. "He'll be glad to see you on a training course again."

He gives Sentinel a weak smile, "That ... That's nice."

They step out, and Kup gives him a gruff look, but he can see how relieved his drill Sargent is, "About time ya got yer aft out here, Optimus. Ya need ta show tha rest a these bots how ta do this right. Or has this rattled yer processor so bad ya can't even do that?"

He has his axe shoved in his servos and he's pushed into the obstacle course. It is one of the easier ones, but he knows this is a proving test. Kup will have his head if he does too badly at this.

So the very first thing he does it remove his clothing to give to Sentinel. "Hold this." It will only get in his way, since he knows Kup will be only upping the difficulty for him if he does badly. Kup does not do well with failure.

Optimus focuses his attention on the course, and the obstacles that come out, holographic and physical objects, things that shoot up or aim weapons at him. It's not really fair to call it a close-range course, because while some bootcamp instructors may keep it close-combat, Kup seems to be of the mindset that a course on close-range combat means that the cadet is armed with close range weapons, while the enemies get whatever the frag they want.

He has to do far more dodging and work than he remembers on this course, but he manages to do it, and finishes. When he's done, he leans on the edge of the course, and Sentinel puts his hat back on him, along with his cloak. Kup hums softly, "Well, ya did... enough. We'll get ya back in shape soon enough. At least ya had enough sense ta leave yer clothing off before starting this up."

If Optimus was in top condition, he could have left it on and not taken any damage, while staying in one spot. He did horrible, and everyone knows it. He's going to have to work incredibly hard to get back to where he was. "Yes, sir."

"I expect ta see ya on the course first thing in the morning from now on," Kup warns him, before clapping a servo down on his shoulder. "Yer my top student, and I've recommended ya for Autobot Academy, but ya gotta pass my final course and graduate here first."

Optimus casts a withering glare at the mech, "Your final course is a cruel joke." It is the training equivalent of fighting against several dozen Decepticons, ending in a long, drawn-out battle with a holographic Megatron. For any of Kup's recruits to pass bootcamp, they have to make it to Megatron. For any of them to get a recommendation and approval for the Academy, they have to be able to survive in combat against the Megatron hologram for at least half a breem.

Optimus carefully does one last check of his outfit, knowing it has been a very long time since he's actually been on Haydon IV and his sense of what should or should not be worn has decayed a very great deal. He is glad that the ship has a few mirrors placed around it so that he can check, and he adjusts his hat and gloves. He knows his entire outfit matches perfectly since he made them all himself, but it is still something he worries about. His boots are carefully placed so that he'll be nice and warm during the frozen winter season that he is no longer used to here, and his hat is extra warm.

He can feel his spark breaking again as he recounts what he's going to be doing, just before he graduated Oil Slick had been sending him various gifts and notes about what he was doing. Things like getting various mods for him. Like making candy for him. Like sending him rare crystals. Like sending him little things that made Oil Slick think of him. Interspersed with things that broke his spark like talking about how various other bots are hot. Or fragging other bots. Or talking about finding some freaky bounty hunter with a 'facing mod like Alpha Trion that didn't taste disgusting and sending all sorts of notes on the mech.

He's not sure why he even kept all the information about Lockdown, but he supposes that all information could be useful some sol. It won't hurt him to keep it.

But really, the last one was the last straw. He can no longer hold out for Oil Slick. Not when he's decided on a course of action that is clearly gone to a point of no return. Just seeing it makes his spark hurt and makes him want to shake the mech to bring some sense into him.

/OPTIMUS, I'VE JOINED THE DECEPTICONS. IT IS SO WONDERFUL. THERE IS A WEAVER HERE NAMED SCALPEL, BUT HE DOESN'T ACTUALLY WEAVE. I HAVE MY OWN LAB. MEGATRON IS THE BEST FRAG EVER. AS SOON AS I GET EVERYTHING SET UP, I WILL GO GET YOU. LOVE AND KISSES, OIL SLICK./i

His beloved has gone to the Decepticons.

His Oil Slick has fragged Megatron.

Optimus had already shared the datapads with his Autobot instructors, feeling his processor and spark ache with the double betrayal of his beloved, but now . . . now he has to show them to his creators. And Oil Slick's creators. Some part of him had always believed that Oil Slick would regain his senses. Would come back to him some sol.

That part of him is dead now.

He still thinks that Oil Slick can be redeemed-that he can come back to the Autobots and make up for the terrible things he's done. All bots deserve a second chance.

But he does not believe that Oil Slick can come back to him. He has given up on that now. He's going to formally request that their betrothal be completely annulled, rather than the simple break that his creators had initiated. His and Oil Slick's names would be erased from the court records as ever having been betrothed.

He takes a deep in-vent, and steps out of the ship.

He is deeply amused to find himself swarmed by various weavers who click and chitter over his clothing, a blue and red one that he recognizes as Spindle cuddles up against his neck and says, "Optimus, you vill never leave me like zis again. I see zat you are vearing boot und gloves. Zey are very vell made. How did you get proper craftsmanship in ze backvaters of Cybertron?"

He smiles at the compliment, walking through the street, "I made them, Spindle. Thank you."

The little weaver touches his hat, "Your vork has much improved, zen. You vill be ... visiting us later, ja?" The bot's tone turns not quite sad, "Ve heard about Oil Zlick, ve vill... comfort you. You vill not have to vorry."

He has no want of possible force hacking from a weaver colony. He now realizes that he's being looked as a possible sparkling carrier for them, and they will use this as a way to keep him in the berth and constantly carrying. He's going to be a Prime, and he graduated with full honors. Oil Slick's letter managed to get him to go against the holographic Megatron for a full three breems. He obliterated the records and won a full scholarship. He's not ruining that by letting weavers figuratively, or even literally, tie him down.

"No, thank you."

The weaver chitters something in the strange, clicking, private language of the weavers, wiggling his mandibles, and the weavers around him click back, walking around him like a moving carpet of sharp, spiny limbs. He knows they could swarm him if they truly desired it, and capture him that way. He's seen them swarm a bot before, though that had been an attack, rather than an attempt to spark a clutch with him. There hadn't been much left of the bot after they were done with him.

Optimus had been horrified then. Was still horrified by it now.

"But ve insist," Spindle says, sliding a tiny set of claws up under his hat to rub at a headfin.

He tilts his head away, "I need to go visit Wildstar and Glitterfrost, Spindle. Then I want to spend time with my creators. You ca-"

The weavers all chitter to each other, and Spindle says, "Vhat vill you be talking about?"

He raises an optic ridge, "You will find out eventually. I will only be there for a little bit, and I will be here for a stellar cycle. I need to sort things out here before I return to Cybertron."

More chittering, and then Spindle looks triumphant as the other weavers that had been clinging to Optimus's frame reluctantly detach themselves, stumbling clumsily through the snow drifts as they hurry away. "I vill accompany you. It just so happens zat I am on my vay to visit zem as vell."

Optimus raises an optic ridge and starts walking through the snow, adjusting to the cold slowly, "Really? If I were to contact them, would they mention they were expecting a visit from you?"

Spindle chuckles, clicking his mandibles with glee, "Do you know of any bot zat vould be upset viz a visit from a veaver?"

He sighs softly, "Of course."

They make it to Glitterfrost and Wildstar's home, almost forgetting to knock because he's so used to letting himself in. He smiles when Glitterfrost yanks him in and hugs him tightly, "Sparkling! There you are! Your creators are so angry at you! Why weren't you back forever ago? You should have returned the moment the betrothal was broken! You shouldn't have stayed on Cybertron at all!"

He shakes his head, "I needed to finish what I was doing. I got top honors, and I'm going to be a Prime. I'm certain to be in the Elite Guard, as well."

The femmes exchange a look, and then touch his shoulder gently, "Your creators have not told you about-"

Spindle hisses at them, stabbing at their servos with his peds, "How dare you ignore me?" He curls possessively around Optimus, tiny peds wiggling against Optimus's seams. "I agree zat he should have returned to Cybertron immediately. His creators are being very, very stubborn about ze offer being made to zem. Zey are lace veavers by trade. Zey should appreciate our offer."

Optimus gets a bad feeling in his tank, not really sure he likes the bot's tone, but not able to do much about it. Wildstar gives Spindle an irritated look, "Yes, yes, you are exactly right, it is a wonderful offer. If only they would accept it. They still needed Optimus here so that they could talk to him about it. And, look, there he is." She turns to him, "Now, what was it you needed that was more important to speak to us first?"

Optimus offlines his optics, and pulls out the datapad with all the notes that Oil Slick has sent him, and places it in Wildstar's servos. "I wish to have Oil Slick and I's betrothal annulled. He has betrayed all that was sacred about the bond and constantly rubs it in my face about how he is no longer with me while declaring he wants to be with me. I wish to be able to inform him there is no way at all that we can ever be together."

Glitterfrost gives him a very sad look, but nods her head in understanding, "We had been expecting this for some time, Optimus. Ever since he . . since the first note you shared with us. Though we had hoped it would not come to this, we understand. We will have your betrothal struck from the records. You will not need to worry about it. Your part here is done." She draws him into a comforting hug, "You are still welcome in our home, Optimus, no matter what our sparkling has done to you. We both feel like a second set of creators for you."

He smiles, hugging back, "Thank you. I need to go to my creators now. Like you said, they're really angry. I just wanted to get this done as fast as possible."

She gently pushes him to Wildstar, who also gives him a hug, "You take care, sparkling. I'm sure you'll accept this opportunity for what it is."

He don't know what they're talking about, but bids them a warm goodbye, and heads back outside, and goes to his creators. They've actually moved to a better place since he left, and he's glad, since it is a better neighborhood. He's also happy he has Spindle, or he'd have gotten hopelessly lost. He pauses at the door, feeling like a stranger, and his servo poised at the door.

Spindle gives him an irritated look and hits the buzzer, "Just let us in! Ve are freezing! It is cold, und ve are finally doing zis!"

His spark flutters nervously. What is the weaver talking about? He doesn't have much time to contemplate it before he's tugged inside by his creators, both of them smothering him with hugs. "Sparkling," Paper Powerdrive says warmly, rubbing his back, "it has been entirely too long. You should have visited us more frequently. You should have come back to us after the betrayal. We don't understand why you insist that you must stay with the Autobots. You are better off here, with us."

Optimus shakes his head, "No. I am going to be an Elite Guard, papas. I've been accepted with a scholarship. I-"

"The Skyline weaver clan has offered an alliance with us," Papa Steelbolt interrupts him.

He blinks, "O-okay?" He isn't really sure what that has to do with him staying with the Autobots.

He's gently placed in a chair that he knows is new, and Spindle curls up in his lap. Papa Powerdrive gives him a cube of energon, and says reluctantly, "... You... You... You are the p-price of that alliance, sparkling."

He is glad of the cube, it hides his shaking servos. He holds it, and sips on it before answering, "So you've approached them for wanting me to clutch with you, Spindle?"

The weaver nuzzles him, "Nein. Meine whole clan vants to. You vill have so many sparklings viz us, Optimus. Ve vill be so happy."

His spark is elated and horrified at the same time. He's always wanted a large family, but he does not want to give up on being a Prime, and he knows that the weavers would require him to give up all other allegiances. The match would be perfect for his creators. They would never have to worry about a bill ever again, and they would gain so much prestige. It would be perfect for them, and he would have the huge family he's always wanted.

But he can't.

He just can't.

"No."

Spindle stares up at him with a puzzled look. "Nein?"

"I am going to be a Prime. I am the very top cadet. There is no way I won't be an Elite Guard. I fought a hologram of Megatron for three full breems, with is three times as long as Ultra Magnus did. I am on the fast track to lead the Autobots. I am considered the most promising bot there is. If I don't go back, it is very possible that they will think that I am being held prisoner against my will. I want to go back."

Spindle clicks angrily, "But you vill be viz ze veavers. Ze best model type."

"I do not want to be made into a berthwarmer. I am not a bot meant to keep sparks warm, and I will not accept a position as carrier for your clutches. I am going to be a Prime. You cannot-" tiny weaver claws press against his lips.

"Nein. I vill not hear of zis." The little mech puffs up his chest angrily, and skitters onto his other shoulder. "You vill come to our clan zis night. If you still say no to our offer, zen I vill consider the rejection."

Consider it and then take his spark and force hack him regardless. No thank you. "I have no interest in joining you in the berth. Like I said. I will be here for a stellar cycle, then I will be returning to Cybertron. We can discuss a contract over the course of-"

Spindle makes an adorable little huffing sound, "I vill not allow you to refuse us! If zis is vhat Autobots do, I do not like it. I vant you viz me, and you vill stay viz me. I have been viz you ever since ve vere sparklings, and it is not fair zat Oil Slick got you first. It is my turn to be viz you."

Weavers go to a different school than the other model types, mainly because sparklings play rather rough. He hadn't realized that Spindle had been so... attached to him, but that would explain why the mech kept kissing him during festivals.

"I'm not a toy to be passed around, Spindle." Optimus plucks the weaver off his shoulder and places the little bot on the table. "You do not get to decide when you have me. It doesn't work like that." He sips his energon slowly, frowning as Spindle scurries back up onto his shoulder, tiny laced boots clinking against his armor. "I will consider your courtship, but I am not going to simply agree to it, and there will be many more conditions attached than I'm sure you'll be happy with."

The little bot stamps his tiny peds, "You vill!"

He raises an optic ridge, then turns to his creators, "Is there anything else that I need to know?"

They glance at the weaver, then shake their heads, "No. Not really. Your room is just down the hall. You can go unpack. We'll have everything set up for you soon. You even have a separate room for your loom now. Did you bring us any specialty materials from Cybertron?"

He smiles, glad for the subject change, "I brought you all sorts of things I know you'll love." He starts to bring out the large amount of things he's collected during his time on Cybertron and starts to spread it out for his creators.

Please Review

I know, I know. "Zira! Tash! How could you be so terrible? How could you have Oil Slick do this? Oh noooo!" etc. You need to realize that Oil Slick was not actually meant to be in the fic in the first place, and he only got put in because I really, really, really love Oil Slick. You'll find out who Optimus was really supposed to be with way later :V

If you hate us for this, that's okay. You don't have to read it. Or you can go read our Optimus/Oil Slick fic that has them end up together and happy. The Princess Oil Slick one in my stories. Go check that out.