Admittedly, I am not good at action scenes, and such, so we're getting the aftermath of the invasion, and conquest.


Prince Optimus held his head high as he disembarked onto Cybertron's main military air base. The campaign had been wildly successful, though there would be funerals and grieving loved ones. The organics, however, had been conquered, and the integration into the Empire was beginning. It would take time, probably at least three of the organics' lifetimes, but soon enough they'd be productive and hopefully satisfied subjects of the Empire.

Optimus would make sure of it.

He smiled as he saw his creator waiting for him. Optimus squashed the urge to run to him and embrace him like he would have when he was a sparkling, and he'd been the one waiting for his creator to return from a successful campaign.

He was a fully grown Prince now. He'd hug his creator in private, later. For now, he had to be the Prince, and return triumphant.

All this pageantry was necessary, the people of the Empire had to know when they were successful. Optimus had learned this as a sparkling and youngling, and was used to it now.

He went through the motions almost on autopilot, he knew them so well. His announcement that their attackers were now subjects was met with cheers.

The newsbots and paparazzi were satisfied by his speech, but he knew the military debriefings would take weeks. For now, though, he followed Megatron into the palace. They were followed by a few others, and Optimus wasn't surprised when Megatron led him to a small conference room. With only Deadlock, Strika, Lugnut, Ratchet, and Prowl as witnesses, Megatron turned and hugged him tight. "I am so glad you are safe," he rumbled.

Optimus relaxed into the hug. He could remember when being held by this mech was a threat, but he could also remember this mech holding him to keep him safe from any that would harm him.

"My people were good at their jobs; I was only rarely in any danger."

"Rarely is too often," Megatron said before he slowly stepped away. "We will have time for detailed reports later," he said. "But, do you really think they'll become lasting subjects?"

"Give them three of their generations, and yes, they will," Optimus said. "The elders will fight it, but their children and grandchildren will see a greatly increased standard of living, and they will not object to being our subjects."

Megatron scowled. "It took humans nearly five generations," he said.

"Humanity is… obsessed with freedom," Optimus said. He looked to the side. "I wouldn't call it wrong, but… it does make them uniquely difficult to hold as subjects."

Megatron sighed. "I will take your word for it, Optimus," he said. He looked up, and Optimus followed suit. All of their audience was not actually paying them any attention, creations and creators were reuniting.

Strika was talking very seriously with Ratchet, while Lugnut was beaming in pride. Optimus would have to ask what happened. Deadlock and Prowl were talking quietly, Prowl demonstrating something that he must have learned to the older mech.

Optimus smiled to see his friends looking so happy. It wasn't unusual, of course, but Optimus had spent some time remembering how they had been before. He was glad that they seemed happier than they had been.

"What is it, my creation?" Megatron asked.

"My friends," Optimus said. "They're happy. I hope they stay that way."

Optimus glanced at Ratchet again. He'd be coming of age very soon, and Optimus worried.

Optimus signaled at the door, sifting his burden as he did so. It was three days after Ratchet came of age, and since he had just finished exams, they had used that as an excuse to wait for him to swear the oath. And now… Optimus hoped Ratchet wasn't too angry, if he'd remembered.

Strika opened the door. "My prince?" she asked.

"I was hoping to talk to Ratchet," Optimus said. "I brought some fuel, is he up yet?"

"I've heard him moving," Strika said. "He hasn't come out of his berthroom."

Optimus nodded. "May I?"

Strika gave him as much of a smile as she could and nodded.

Optimus headed for Ratchet's door, and, instead of using the pad to signal, knocked.

He heard something moving, and then the door opened. Optimus smiled at the frazzled Ratchet. "I brought fuel," he said. "And I thought you'd want to talk."

Ratchet blinked at him. Optimus knew, just by looking, that the medic had remembered. "Optimus?"

"It's been a few stellar cycles, but I remember that first morning," Optimus said. "And I thought you'd like someone to talk to. Or at."

Ratchet shook his helm hard and then grabbed his arm and dragged him in, shutting the door behind them. "You… Prime… you remember?"

Optimus smiled. "I remember, Ratchet. Three days after I came of age. Three days after I took the brand."

Ratchet fell back. "That's why it's been delayed. Not my exams."

"We wanted to give you a choice," Optimus said. "A real choice, with all the information."

Ratchet offlined his optics for a brief moment and sighed. "You… thank you," he said. "I… don't…"

"I figured," Optimus said. He was pretty sure he knew the problem. "And you don't have to decide now," he added. "I don't care if you never take the brand. I'll definitely understand."

Ratchet shuddered to himself. "I want… I don't know what I want."

Optimus sighed and settled his friend so they were sitting side by side on the berth. "I know," he said. "Everything's different now, and you remember when your creators were your enemies, and you don't know how you feel. And it's probably worse for you."

Ratchet didn't really respond, just hummed a brief agreement.

They sat in silence for a long time.

"I don't blame you," Ratchet said. "You did what you had to do to keep us safe."

Optimus started and then nodded. "I know," he said.

"I don't know if I'm going to get the brand," Ratchet said. "I… I am not Autobot Medic Ratchet anymore, but…"

"And I'm not Optimus Prime," Optimus said in agreement. "He's a part of me, and I was him. But he's not all I am anymore."

Ratchet sighed. "Exactly." He looked down at his hands. "I don't know what to do anymore."

Optimus sighed and did the only thing he could do- be there for his friend.


Have a good Superbowl Sunday, for those of you who watch the game (I don't really care, I just like the commercials). And I'll see you next week, with the last chapter.

(Will Ratchet chose to take the Decepticon brand? Well. *shrug* Maybe you'll find out next week. Maybe not.)