A/N: I know this was an incredibly long journey, believe me it was long on my end as well, but I finally feel ready to bring us all to a satisfying end. At least I hope it feels satisfying for everyone. I fretted over this chapter a bit and I know it's probably going to not be as perfect as what many of your all's theories and ideas were themselves, but I hope that this and the story overall is still enjoyable. Because completing my first big fic for Transformers – especially one so long and taxing – really is a true sense of accomplishment and pride I've not felt in a while. And it's bittersweet to finally part

Special thanks to Isame, squireofgeekdom, and kimbnr for the feedback. But seriously, thank all of you for reading and continuing to support me and this story all along the way. I'm gracious for being allowed to enjoy your company so far.

Thank you very much, and I wish you all the best!

Transformers, Beast Wars, and related properties © Hasbro
story © RenaRoo

Twisted Legacy
Part V: The Day the World Caught Fire
Chapter 5.5: Know Not What We May Be

When all of it began, seemingly ages ago, Optimus could not have anticipated the resolution. And, upon seeing it, he still wasn't convinced that he wanted to see the way it had all come together.

At least, not under Starscream.

"Not only has our darkest hour passed with advances in protective medical technologies, a more cohesive society, and strengthened alliances all under the name of Cybertron, those who sought to put us in chaos now are permanently vanquished, and in their place is the greatest hope we as Cybertronians have seen since before the ages of War. New life! With the Hot Spot discovered at Nyon and the boom in care providers who are volunteering services in order to assist the rearing of our new generation."

Starscream's words were cheered loudly enough that even the boom of the projectors above them were nearly drowned out. And though there was nothing wrong with the speech — at least in that it was one Optimus himself would have possibly delivered in the same circumstances — there was an inherent, or perhaps inescapable, smugness and authority in everything which the former Decepticon said.

He was smirking with one side of his mouth more than the other, knowing and cocky. And his eyes were dulled with satisfaction at the crowd's crowing.

Optimus felt a desire to step in, to assert his own form of leadership. And it was not a desire that he hid well, as Windblade was quick to put a hand on his elbow. It was gentle, not directional, but it was enough to remind Optimus of something that he was all too familiar with from his own ruling.

The greater good.

That same obviousness, however, seemed to draw Starscream in with the temptation to test his own look. He grinned as he turned to face Optimus just enough before waving to the podium.

"Is there anything you wish to add, Optimus Prime?"

Windblade's hand dropped from Optimus' arm and she leered at Starscream with pure irritation. And, somehow, that gaze alone seemed to pull some rare sense out of Starscream as he floundered some words and began to turn back around toward the crowds, as if to move on.

Optimus appreciated Windblade's protectiveness, but he also did not need it.

He broke the awkward moment by stepping forward toward the podium, surprising no one more than Starscream himself. But the so-called Chosen One stepped aside to allow Optimus the stage.

There was a mixed reaction from the present crowds — the same mix that Optimus assumed was felt across the planet and off-planet colonies overall. They were not sure what to make of a Prime let alone this particular Prime, whose seeming assistance in this time of need had mostly been behind the scenes they were most concerned with.

"We have overcome a dire chapter in our species' history," Optimus announced. "And we have done so in thanks to the bravery of all individuals who truly showed themselves and their character when they were called upon." He waved to the front of the crowd where the medical team sat, surprised by the directed attention. "Our heroes are the heroes we take for granted each and every day. Hopefully, now, we will remember to never take for granted them and all of those we love again."

A small harmony of clapping readily grew in support of the sentiment.

Windblade clapped as well, Starscream did not. Optimus noticed, but he kept himself in check. He reminded himself what mattered.

Then he turned to face Starscream enough to wave to him directly.

"And, of course, those who lead us in trying times should also be remembered for leadership and exceptionalism. For that, I thank you, Starscreaml. And, of course, the Counsel and Delegate Windblade."

The sentiment received even more cheers, but the disruptive way it settled in his energon was worth it for Optimus to see the bluster and irritation Starscream was undergoing.

It was the acknowledgement that Starscream had been looking for for most of his life. And he got it only under duress and secrecy, with Optimus and Windblade — those who seemed to matter to the Seeker on the stage — knowing all too well that the true meanings of the words were not at all for Starscream himself.

And that, in a way, made it even more worth it. A small touch of spite which Optimus would allow himself to keep.

The press meeting did not continue for too much longer after that. There were more micromanaging concerns to address — taxes going toward recovery of buildings and districts, promises of more funding for construction that was bound to excite more than a few Constructicons.

But Optimus didn't have the patience to stay for it. His part was done.

He left, offering a gentle hand on Windblade's shoulder, a sign of solidarity and support for their common goals, before moving on.

There was a very important ship he had to see off. And, judging by who was waiting on the outside of it, his appearance was fairly anticipated as well.

Megatron stood at the entrance of the Lost Light, taking care for his feet to not touch Cybertronian soil.

As if he and Optimus Prime were not fully aware of the previous violations in that area already.

"Megatron," Optimus said abrasively.

"Prime," Megatron answered in kind.

They stood by each other for a long moment before Optimus made a point of looking away. He was, after all, on Megatron's ship, the one Optimus forced out of its previous captain's possession to do so. It was the right call, the only call. And that was not making any of it any easier.

"I do want to make sure that you know that co-captain is not an actual position," Megatron said.

"Is this the time you want to test your authority with a mutiny?" Optimus asked suspiciously.

"Not at all, but it isn't a position," Megatron informed him again. "You still told the captain to become my co-captain to undermine me and to demote and punish him. I assumed for all this time that it was your lack of subtlety but, seeing as how I and Rodimus have made quite the team in the adventures since, I now wonder if you actually had forgotten the hierarchy of military branches or if your monkey's paw unexpectedly came back to bite."

"I'm glad you get along," Optimus responded noncommittally before continuing on into the Lost Light. "But, I will remind you, Megatron, you are too smart to think that you can change destiny."

"I agree, I am," Megatron answered. "You are the one who continuously denies the inevitable."

Optimus didn't answer, merely smirking before continuing forward.

Rodimus was deep in the ship, between his ever present companions Drift and Ultra Magnus, but his attention predictably seemed elsewhere. There was a distance to his optics that would have made Optimus believe before that the other Autobot was not taking his position seriously enough.

Anymore, Optimus' thoughts instead were on whether the bot was too busy thinking forward or backward.

The two companions noticed Optimus' approach first and noticeably stiffened in attention, while Rodimus took a moment longer, looking over Optimus' way in due time. He didn't seem to stand nearly as sternly in alert with the others.

It was an ease with him that Optimus had not yet earned, but was still incredibly grateful for.

"Rodimus, I was hoping to speak with you before I left," he informed them. He took a wary look around him to the business of the ship and cleared his voice box slightly. "Or, rather, I suppose before you left."

"Sure thing," Rodimus answered without a moment's hesitation. He then looked to the others before stepping away. "Have you guys got this?"

"We already had it," Drift assured him, putting an almost affectionate touch to the way he clapped Rodimus' silver plated shoulder before glancing toward Magnus. They both left the spot, albeit with some casually cautious glances between each other.

"You have a supremely capable crew," Optimus observed out loud.

"Minus some that Starscream offered better deals," Rodimus huffed, folding one unpainted silver plated arm over the garishly flame painted other. "Not that I'm bitter or anything. Have to worry about the fate of the species and all that. I guess. And at least Ratchet's staying with us… gonna be weird not having First Aid. But. I guess I'm glad. Or whatever."

"You are still unpainted," Optimus added clumsily, not wanting to dwell on Starscream and the fate of Cybertron for much longer than he already had.

"Been busy," Rodimus shrugged. "I need a new paint job. The old one was getting cliche."

Optimus let the words settle between them for a while, feeling heavy and unmeaningful in its greater context. Rodimus had other reasons to be hesitant about being whole again it seemed. It also seemed that, by no one but Optimus' own fault, he was not privy to the reasoning.

But that was something that brought them to where they were. "Rodimus… I truly am glad that I got to speak with you again before… well, before we could leave things unsaid between us," he confessed.

"What kind of things?" Rodimus asked, a flicker of worry crossing his face.

"The kind that should have been said much sooner," Optimus continued. "Rodimus… When you carried the Matrix, and chose to gave it to me, I gave you a new name." Something in Rodimus perked up, as if the memory itself was helping his back grow straighter. "I felt pride, for having known you for so long, for seeing how far you came. And, after the war, when we saw again and I showed… resentment for all that growth stood for, or how I seemed to assume you had fallen short of wha you needed to grow still, I held anger beyond just what you had been through. I held anger for what I had fallen short of, as well. And it was unfair for my judgment to extend as far as it had."

There was a certain awkwardness to the silence. Rodimus' face was less than impressed as he reached back and rubbed at the back of his helm. "Uh. Okay. I mean. I had just done a lot of stupid scrap, so it's not like it was completely uncalled for. Maybe mostly uncalled for—"

Seeing that he still was not expressing himself adequately, Optimus reached out and laid heavy hands on Rodimus' shoulders. He could actually could feel the stiffness grow in Rodimus' body as he tried to rise and meet the strength of Optimus' grasp.

"What I am attempting to say," Optimus said gently, "is that I have been wrong. We are different in more ways, but what I see most with you, Rodimus, what I have always seen, is the capacity for far more greatness than either of us know. And I have seen that capacity from the first time we met. And I am sorry for making that harder to know than it should be."

Rodimus cycled his optics twice that Optimus could count before he leaned back on his heels. "Oh. Well. Uh. Can't say I expected to hear that today. Or… any day, actually. Like. Wow. Thanks?"

"No, Rodimus, thank you," Optimus said. "I see now that you have all the capacity for good and more in you that I saw the day we first met."

Rodimus' faceplate seemed to warm up. "Heh. I guess because of the whole… time-magic me and… stuff. Yeah. It was pretty cool."

"No, not because of that," Optimus shook his head. "From you. You that you are now has shown me that and more."

"Okay, well, now I'm going to do this before I can regret it," Rodimus muttered quickly.

"Do what?" Optimus asked just before Rodimus' arms wrapped around his midsection, squeezing him tightly.

"I've always wanted to hear that from you, Optimus, you have no idea how… how much I wanted — still want — to be you," he confessed.

Optimus eased into the alien feeling of the embrace and put gentle hands on Rodimus' back. "Do not be me, Rodimus. Be better. Just as I know you will be."

And that, subtly but surely, made the Matrix deep within Optimus' chest feel a warmth and security he had long been missing.

Windblade felt her smile only grow as the doctors each took her offered hand to shake. There was a certain official feeling to the sentiment, something that felt truer and more real than other gestures. Though, if pressed, she couldn't answer why.

"I very much look forward to working more with you, doctors," she added.

"You should," Knock Out snarked, a gentle shrug of his shoulders as if he was letting the compliment bounce off his armor. It wasn't completely fair, though, because there was definitely a greater fullness to the way Knock Out held his chest after her compliments. His demeanor was more rewarded and confident even if his pride wouldn't allow it to be shown.

First Aid, though, was more genuine, and he quickly shook Windblade's hand in return after wrapping both of his own around it. "The honor is all mine, Councilor. I'm hoping, with what we've learned, these sorts of diseases and viruses can be all but eradicated as a threat to the future of Cybertron. And, er, the other worlds. Obviously."

Nodding, Windblade knew what he meant. They were more connected now — more in sync. They were not simply a collection of planets with a single ancestry and a single court uniting them. They were the same world, the same people, regardless of distance.

"Velocity was my sorority sister," Windblade informed the relatively young doctor. "She's spoken fondly of your tutelage, and that together you learned many things on the Lost Light about medicine and care. Hopefully the council will continue to benefit your research as much as possible."

"I believe it will," First Aid said confidently.

"Of course it will," Knock Out called, clapping a hand on First Aid's shoulder as he did so. "After all, what easier way to get funding than to have a partnership with someone within the Council!"

First Aid stiffened at the touchiness of the Velocitronian, but other than pinching at the bridge of his nose, he didn't seem to resist the touch.

Amused, Windblade almost commented on the moment until her attention was grabbed by a whiff of familiar purple smoke far behind the two doctors. She cycled her optics and looked to the corner where the smoke had been and saw two shadows duck further out of sight. But the appearance was very much on purpose.

Taking a quick assessment of the crowd around her, Windblade could see that no one else in the busied capitol building had taken notice of the new arrivals, including the two doctors she had been conversing with. And so, she made a point of nodding to the two of them and beginning to walk around them.

"Sorry, it seems I'm needed. Please let me know if I can help with anything," she said as she excused herself and headed toward the corner.

No one seemed the wiser to her actions as she slowly walked away from the crowds. So, when she was confident she captured no one's attention, she more hurriedly rounded the corner to see what was going on.

And just as Windblade had thought, the two faces that met her were strange but familiar — older than the years they should have been then and there on Cybertron, but just what she had come to expect from the time traveling versions of herself and Rodimus.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again," Windblade confessed. She then awkwardly rubbed at her arm. "Um. I mean, eventually see you. In time. I'll… stop before I confuse you as much as I'm confused… I mean…"

Gratefully, Windblade's future self smiled sympathetically and nodded to her. "I know exactly what you mean."

Future Rodimus stood with his arms crossed over his chest. "I don't, but it's one of those things that we can probably skate by with only one of us knowing."

More than a little confused and a little intimidated by the situation, Windblade looked between the two travellers nervously. "Is… Is there something else the matter? Do we need to… I don't know, do something? Save time and space?"

"Eh, not today," Rodimus shrugged. "We just needed to make sure you knew you were going about things right, that we have the time travel shenanigans on wraps on our end. And… Well, just in general, tie up some loose ends."

When Windblade looked to her future self for some clarification, she received another sheepish shrug. "I remembered this happening," she explained.

"Oh, well. I'm… glad?" Windblade laughed softly. "I mean that. I'm glad to have those worries put at ease and… to have a peak at what's to come." Her optics settled on the future Prime. "I look forward to working with you."

He held a bit of a crooked smile at the comment. "You're going to have your work cut out for you."

"It's a Prime tradition," Windblade countered.

"Speaking of work, we have our own to do," her future self announced before stepping forward and surprising Windblade with a hug. "Trust your instincts. Even when it's hard. And that's how everything will work out for you."

Surprised as she was, Windblade felt at ease by those words. "Thank you, thank you for everything," she told them.

Then, in as quick of a wisp as they had come, the future mechs were gone, leaving Windblade alone in the hall.

At least for the moment.

"There you are," the familiar crackly tone of Starscream grumbled as he came toward her. "I was ready to start the new business agenda for the Council, but they all insist on having your presence, Windblade. You would think that you had more to do with settling these crises than I did, and we know how untrue that is."

Windblade's warm smile remained on her face even as she faced Starscream, which seemed to throw the leader for a loop of his own.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, suspicious and wary.

"Nothing's the matter, Starscream," she declared, walking toward him. "I'm just excited about the future of Cybertron."

"Oh? The one you have planned?" Starscream sneered a bit.

"The one all of us have planned, Starscream," she corrected before stopping and giving him a calculated look. "As long as we all plan for the best."

He seemed to consider the warning for a bit before putting on one of his secretive smiles. "Of course, Windblade."

"Good," she replied. "Because the Council has a bright future planned. And I don't think the past is going to look kindly on anyone who stands in the way of it."

Rodimus had heard some things bout the time travelers - that they used time magic in suitcases and were familiar with Error. Which also meant they were probably familiar with who he had been before going into theatrics and murder.

People seemed, generally, fairly cagey about details. Especially around Rodimus. But people seemed cagey about Rodimus in general. Maybe it didn't have anything, specifically, to do with time travel magic. He sincerely doubted that was the case, but it put him more at ease to consider it.

He was doing that a lot more since the whole ordeal came about. Considering things.

For however brief of an amount of time, Rodimus lost the entirety of his crew. For however brief of an amount of time, Rodimus had knowingly or unknowingly been used to murder his new crew. And, for however brief of an amount of time, Rodimus had lost the entirety of himself.

Those were things that Rodimus had never realized, how badly, he did not want to lose them until they had very well been lost.

Maybe it was growth. But it was more like Rodimus had been — quite literally — smacked in the face with the values he hadn't allowed himself to express more. And he had the scars to prove its impact.

There was a part of Rodimus that wanted more assurance, wanted to know definitively that he would make good on that potential that Optimus had so loftily described in him just earlier, before going his separate ways again. It was the sort of adoration and the sort of personal confirmation that Rodimus had been working for most of his time to achieve. One way or the other.

After finally getting it, he wasn't sure what his next driving force was going to be. Maybe if he had met the time displaced travelers, had gotten to ask what he could work toward, he would have it at the ready.

But, strangely enough, as he tested the flexion of his newly modified hand, Rodimus didn't feel like he needed it anymore. Not in the same way.

If anyone asked him, he would claim spite — spite for what Error did to him and made him do to others, spite for the claims Error made about who Rodimus was or could be.

It wasn't completely true. But it would work.

Time was counting down until the Lost Light took off from Cybertron. Again. And rather than speak to the crew himself, Rodimus was letting Megatron do it. He was better at that sort of thing

Rodimus hung back in his office, at his desk, wondering what he would do next to prove himself, to prove that illusive potential.

Drift was nearby, arms crossed at the office door. "You look like you've got something on the processor. What is it?"

Tapping his fingers against his desk, Rodimus hummed and stretched himself out. It was an attempt to look casual. Drift didn't seem particularly fooled by it. "Well, we've got all of the future ahead of us, right?" he asked.

"Sure seems like it," Drift agreed.

"I think my answer is that I want a historian to come talk to me after we get into space," Rodimus decided.

"A historian? I'm sure we've got people to fit the bill. Maybe an archivist like Rewind," Drift offered. He then paused and flinched slightly. "Maybe not Rewind. He did uppercut you."

"That feels like ages ago," Rodimus laughed. "No, no. That makes him perfect. Get me Rewind when you can."

That didn't seem to put Drift at anymore ease. "Punched you, Rodimus."

"He won't sugarcoat it, then!" Rodimus explained without explaining whatsoever.

"Sugarcoat what?" Drift asked.

"The records — our records. The ship's records," Rodimus explained. "We know there's a lot of future nonsense and people wanting to rewrite history, I'm going to make it my new mission to keep it all straight."

"History? You're going to keep history straight?" Drift asked, a little bewildered given his tone.

"The good, the bad, the ugly. While we're making history we might as well as set the record straight, right?" Rodimus grinned.

"Sounds like setting yourself up for other time travelers to know exactly where you are when you are," Drift pointed out. "Actually it sounds like setting up exactly what just happened to us."

"Well, Drift, I guess that's just a risk I'm willing to take," Rodimus shrugged. "We've got a future ahead of us, buddy. Might as well as make the most of it. What do you think?"

Drift smiled himself and waled over to the desk to offer his hand. "I think, as always, it sounds like a true honor. I look forward to it. All of it."

"Good, bad, and ugly?" Rodimus teased.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Drift agreed. He then nodded to the doorway, where a group of familiar heads ducked back out of the way — Rodimus noticed rather clearly that Nautica, Velocity, Brainstorm, Nightbeat, and Rung were among them. "I can think of some others that feel the same."

Rodimus, feeling truly content again, sat back.

He didn't know the specifics of what was to come for himself or anyone else, but he did know that his new mission would make it worth it. Whether it was predetermined or not. He was encouraged by the legacy left ahead for him.

And that was more than enough.

The End