Time, it is said, heals all wounds.
This is not true.
For while Time may heal the wounds visible to the eye, Time can only bandage the wounded heart.
And while the wounds fester and bleed, Time waltzes on, heedless . . .
Rusty Nail
a Transformers G1 fanfiction
Prologue I: Beautiful Alone
1.
April 07, 199x
Autobot City, Earth
"DON'T TOUCH ME THERE!"
Medbay in the newly-constructed Autobot city was full to overflowing as the wounded from the day's failed battle with the Decepticons came streaming in for repairs. Most had suffered small exostructure wounds from various types of laser fire; they were patiently- or, in some cases, impatiently- awaithing their turn for repairs. The more severely injured were ensconced on the bay's many medical beds, being tended to by Ratchet's expert staff. The worst of them were the new arrivals to Earth- forced into a crash landing by the Decepticons, they had had to sacrifice their personal safety for that of the local population until reinforcements could arrive.
"Be still, will you? Do you want to bleed to death?!" Ratchet and First Aid were currently trying to pin down the most severely wounded of the group, a young Autobot whose chassis was once decorated in stylized flames- flames that were now blackened and pitted by heavy fire. A chunk of his yellow chestplate had been melted away and fused to his framework, making it impossible to open by ordinary means. His entire middle torso was a gaping hole that spewed a fine spray of vital fluids with each pulse of his fuel pump. The sickeningly slow flicker of his spark could be seen through the twisted, burnt wiring as he writhed under them. "Dammit, be still!" Ratchet snapped. "I've got to get into-"
A wayward fist smashed into the good doctor's face, making him stumble backwards. "N-n- never!" the youth screamed, the force of his punch nearly dragging his body off the table. A gush of fluids erupted from his mouth as even more spilled out from his wrecked chassis, spattering the floor all around. "No- no one t-t-touch . . . touches me there . . ."
Another young Autobot, this one a lithe pink femme with lubricant 'tears' in her optics, slipped into the fray and held the other's hand as he began to shudder convulsevly. "They just want to help you, Hot Rod! I promise, they won't hurt you!"
Ratchet scowled and shook his head, pushing the femme aside with a bloodied hand; First Aid was barely managing to hold the dying Autobot still. "Delirious," he grunted as the youth began thrashing again. "We can't waste any more time! Hold him-"
The doctor didn't hear the sudden hush descend upon the room, but he did notice when a pair of strong hands reached down from above to cradle the young Autobot's head. Behind the hands was a face Ratchet knew well, illuminated by a soft azure glow emanating from his chest. The crowd of patients and staff began murmuring quietly in mixtures of shock and awe; most, including the pink femme, retreated a respectable distance away. The doctor just gaped, almost forgetting where he was. "... Prime? What-"
Optimus Prime ignored the medic, his head leaning down until it was just millimeters away from Hot Rod's own. Optics aglow, his faceplate shifted a bit- First Aid, still pinning Hot Rod down on Prime's left, could have sworn that their leader was smiling. "Roddy." His deep, rumbling voice was soft, so quiet that Ratchet had to strain to hear it. The light intensified as he spoke, bathing them both in its radiance. "I'm here now, Roddy. It's going to be all right."
Hot Rod instantly relaxed at the voice, his flickering optics staring up at the older Autobot in an expression of relief and adulation. ". . . Optimus," he breathed, the pulsing of his broken fuel lines slowing. "Y-You're . . . here . . ."
"Don't try to talk." The Autobot leader motioned for the doctors to continue their work, even as he knelt by the edge of the bed and held the youth's head in his hands. "You know I'd never let anyone hurt you ever again, Roddy. I promised."
". . . pro . . . mised . . . ." The youth reached up and touched Optimus's faceplate with a trembling hand, leaving a smudge of vital fluids behind. First Aid could have sworn he saw the light from Prime's chest flare up at the touch. The leader's optics began to glow with the same strange light as he stroked the edge of Hot Rod's cheek. "Promised . . . never alone-"
"That's right." The gentleness in the older Autobot's voice was startling to his long-time associates; never had they heard him address anyone in so tender a tone, save maybe his long-time mate Alita-One. Faint traces of the azure light- like miniature sparks of St. Elmo's fire- began to dance around Hot Rod's open wounds; the sparks were so faint that neither Ratchet nor First Aid were ever sure that they had seen them in the first place. "I won't leave you, Roddy. I promised you then that you would never be alone. I won't break my word."
The faint light in the youth's optics fluttered, then dimmed to a steady pale glow as his hand dropped down to dangle limply off the edge of the bed. "He- he's in hibernation mode," Ratchet said through the thick haze of wires and fluids, dumbfounded at the reading that suddenly appeared on his diagnostics screen. "His backup systems are in self-repair mode . . . by Primus, I think he might actually have a chance now." He glanced over at Optimus, who was still knelt serely at the head of the bed. "How did you do that? How did you-"
Optimus Prime just looked at the doctor as the light slowly faded from his chest. The older Autobot's expression read of exhaustion, even though he hadn't moved since he arrived. He didn't even respond to the doctor's question; instead, he looked back down at the now-peaceful youth and continued stroking his cheek. "You'll never be alone again," he murmured as his own optics began to fade. "I swear by Primus . . . never alone again."
2.
August 12, 2005
Iacon Repair Bay #3, Cybertron
"It's time you knew."
First Aid raised his weary head to look up at the looming form of Ultra Magnus, a spark of worry in his optics. Times had gone from bad to worse in a very short time- from the death of his mentor Ratchet and their beloved leader Optimus Prime to the recent rebirth of Galvatron and the Decepticons, there had been no break at all for the young doctor. Finding himself suddenly thrust into the position of head doctor for the Autobots had left his very little time to shut down and rest, much less to grieve his losses. Now their new leader, Rodimus Prime, lay just a few meters away in the next room, awaiting repairs after having cheated Death not once, but twice. "Can it wait, Magnus? We haven't even finished up the schematics on Hot Ro- err, Rodimus Prime, and he's waiting for me right now-"
Avoiding the younger Autobot's gaze, Magnus swiveled the computer's monitor around and slipped a wafer-thin disk into the system. "Take a look," he grunted as a multitude of smaller windows began popping up on the screen. Most of the windows were prompts asking for top-level clearance; the City Commander slowly gave voice authorization to each as the amazed doctor looked on in confusion. Finally, the screens cleared into a familiar medical profile. "This . . . should tell you everything you need to know."
"... it's his schematics from when he was still Hot Rod." The Protectobot leaned forward and began reading, the light of the monitor casting sickly blue-green patterns over his angular face. He touched the screen, tapping away at the keyboard, his optics brightening in horror as the pages unfolded in front of him. After the third page, he tried moving away, looking sickened and weak. "Oh Primus. Primus above, I-"
"Finish it." Magnus's low voice rumbled unhappily behind him. His face was drawn into a tight scowl; a deeply ashamed look crossed his optics as he looked beyond the office window to the youth awaiting them. "Finish it and be quick. Otherwise you'll never finish it at all."
First Aid reluctantly turned back to the screen and drew his gaze back to the documents before him, only moving to switch pages. Every so often a shudder would pass through his frame as he switched pages, unfolding new information. Finally he simply switched the screen off. The clinical part of his doctor's mind was running through what he'd seen, coldly calculating and weighing treatment options even as it tried to recreate the circumstances that had led to such a thing; the emotional side was wondering what kind of world he lived in, where things like that- acts that were even now unspeakable by Autobot standards were possible. His optics warbled through several noxious colors of greenish-yellow as he opened his jaw to speak, then shut it. He was clearly at a complete loss for words. "You . . . you- how did . . . "
"You will keep this information to yourself." It wasn't a request so much as an order. Ultra Magnus then sighed, a frame-rattling sigh that conveyed the oceanic depths of grief he suffered. His optics were cold and hard, fighting against the guilt that flickered behind their stony facade. First Aid reached out and put a hand on the commander's shoulder; Magnus seemed to shrink at the comforting touch. "If you have any questions, ask me. He won't know the specifics of- of what happened. He doesn't remember it at all- and we're going to keep it that way." He coughed into one fist, a completely human gesture that betrayed his nervousness. "The fewer people who know about this, the better."
First Aid nodded slowly, his optics wandering back to the figure of Rodimus Prime in the next room, who was now sitting up and watching them. A million questions raced through his head, but he stifled them. Now just wasn't the time. "I- I understand, sir. I'll keep this completely confidential."
Magnus turned and walked out of the office; the young doctor watched him as he approached Rodimus and briefly spoke with him. He couldn't hear what they were saying through the soundproofed window, but it was rather obvious what they spoke of; Rodimus slumped and nodded briefly as Magnus pointed back towards the office. The Autobot leader evaded the comforting hand Magnus tried to put on his shoulder, then lay back down as his sub-commander left. First Aid stopped to collect himself and steady his trembling hands before walking out to confront his patient.
Rodimus Prime lay quietly upon the repair bed, his older face looking worn and haggard. His bright sapphire optics were clear, hiding nothing; the ill-understood fear and pain shone so brightly that First Aid had to look away. "If- if you don't feel ready for this, we can wait . . ," he murmured.
The Autobot leader shook his head and rested one hand on his chest, directly above the flames emblazoned there. The seams of his chestplate seemed to glow with a supernatural azure light- the light of the Matrix, the doctor suddenly realized- and Rodimus's face softened. A gentle smile lit his face as the fear in his optics bled away into an eerie calm. First Aid felt chills run down his frame; it suddenly seemed as though the two of them were not alone in the room. Rodimus lifted his hand off his chest and laid it back by his side. The hand was reflexively clenched in a half-fist, like a small child's hand as it grasps the hand of it's parent. "I'm ready, 'Aid. Do what you have to."
" . . . But- are you sure?"
He shook his head, the faint smile still playing on his lips. "It's all right. After all," and the Matrix light flickered and strengthened, "I'm not alone."
3.
November 25, 2010
Autobot City, Earth
" . . . I'm alone."
He sat in a shadowed corner of the repair bay, arms hugging his knees up to his battered chest, virtually ignored by the throngs of wounded Autobots rushing in and out. The hollow shell of the Matrix lay next to him on the cold floor. Its core was dulled and dark, filled with empty thoughts and empty dreams.
Empty.
Just like him.
He turned his gaze back down to the metal floor as a pair of revelers passed him by; drunken with joy, they never even noticed the solitary figure as their feet came withing inches of trampling him. And why would they notice someone as insignificant as Hot Rod, when their true leader had returned to the halls of the living? He couldn't blame them, he truely couldn't- for how could he blame them for forgetting about Rodimus Prime when that was what he wanted to do himself?
The young Autobot curled into himself even tighter, burying his head in his knees. Optimus had handed the Matrix back to him after the end of the Hate Plague- and since then, he had not seen nor spoken to his mentor. Everyone crowded around Optimus, wanting to touch him, to hear the comforting cadence of his deep voice as he spoke words of reassurance, and Hot Rod had been shut out completely. This corner was the only true refuge he had from the world.
First Aid's voice suddenly hovered above him. "Rodi- err, Hot Rod? We're ready for you if you'd like to step this way . . . "
Nodding almost imperceptibly, the young cavalier rose to his feet. A frigid bolt of fear suddenly rammed into his core as he was led to a fuild-stained medical table; he obediently lied down at the doctor's insistent touch. Fear began bubbling up from within the darkest reaches of his spark. Wicked shadows danced at the edges of his memory, then disappeared as quickly as they had come. One tembling hand stole out to touch the Matrix, searching for any small measure of comfort he could find as First Aid began gathering up his instruments.
The Matrix emitted the faintest of lights, and was still.
Nothing. No response, no warmth, nothing to fill the gaping void within him where it once had made his soul whole- just a flicker, the light of a machine responding to the touch of its owner. He withdrew his hand and covered his optics as fluid began to well up from within. "Optimus . . . you promised . . ," he whispered softly as his chestplate was laid open. "You promised me I'd never be alone . . . ."
And the tears slowly fell.
Author's Note: Whoo, that was a bitch to write! For the curious, I snitched the title for this first half of the prologue from the ending theme of Weiss Kreuz (awesome anime). The title for the fic actually comes from a song by X-Japan. Most of the music I listen to while I write is by either X-Japan or Nightwish, with a few other bands thrown in for good measure. Angsty music makes me write faster! (hinthint) So if you ever want to donate to my ansgtpile, my AIM is TigerCubFromHell. Ship me music! :D Even better, send me reviews!
Next chapter- Second part of the prologue! What happened to drive a rift between Optimus and Rodimus? A small drop of water can crumble a boulder and turn it to sand. What is there left for Rodimus in his empire of dirt?
