A/N: Alright, so here we go again. This time I'm going to try AGAIN to get my Transformers muse to work with me. But I have a good feeling about this one, honestly. So I guess we'll see how it goes. It may sort of come off as a spiritual successor of sorts to "Bumblebee's Boy" a fic I never got to finish. So may be some similarities, but I decided to do this rather than totally rewrite to fix all of my problems I now have with that story.

Instead, this story will focus on Optimus, however. And start off a little before the first movie. Other changes include the Autobots already being on Earth but searching separate leads on the Allspark.

PAIRINGS: OptimusxElita, others to come later.


PROLOGUE

How did you bounce back from losing everything?

The simple answer for Benjamin Nathaniel Baker was: he had no frickin' clue. At fourteen, he had faced the hardest moment of his life: the death of his stepdad and mother, and he hadn't had ten minutes to process it before his world collapsed.

Some people had tried to assure him that his parents - his stepdad and mother died without a single ounce of pain. A gas leak, they called it, one that exploded while he was at school. Ben wasn't sure he believed the men in suits that claimed to be from somewhere called "Sector 7" but it didn't matter much.

He was never going into foster care.

As a kid, he'd suffered enough abuse to know he wasn't risking more horror stories. It had been the reason his mom had left his dad in the first place, and he hadn't blamed her. If he ended up in foster care, it'd destroy her entire reason for leaving.

So he'd run away, right after the funeral. Hadn't even taken a bag for the memories, just what clothes he scrounged up, his prosthetic left leg, and his will to live.

That was something like four months ago, he figured. Two states, and multiple odd jobs later, he hadn't thought much of his next venture either. Headed toward a small town he'd heard about along his travels called "Tranquility". Small enough he'd be able to get to know people, but big enough they wouldn't ask too many questions he was told.

Without money for a bus, the kid decided to walk - in the rain, of all times. A fact which he chastised himself about, but still... It didn't matter much to him as it felt like any other challenge... A minor obstacle.

He'd been trekking down the freeway a good five miles when the truck pulled up beside him. A cool one, with blue paint and red flames... Ben noted the odd color scheme, but impressive craftsmanship first - not even paying mind or noticing as the driver seemed to flicker.

"Awfully late for someone such as yourself to be out here."

It was too. Well past midnight if his watch hadn't stopped working, Ben figured. But he wasn't about to take a ride from a trucker. God knows what he had planned for him. "I'm fine, thanks," he called up as he blew a strand of his sand blonde hair from his green eyes. "Where I'm headed isn't far."

"Then I'll have no trouble taking you."

"I'm OK, bro."

"And I insist."

Ben tried his damndest to ignore the trucker. But for whatever reason, the truck decided to stay on his ass. Or at least he assumed it was, the way it followed him so closely. Ben finally stopped about ten minutes later, when he realized he still hadn't let up.

He crossed his arms. "You're stubborn," Ben grumbled. "Look if you're going to proposition me you can forget it."

The driver seemed to frown at the suggestion, leaning over to look at him. "I assure you, I am not. If you come with me, you're safer than you're even aware," he explained cryptically. Ben thought it was a tad odd. "Or at the very least dryer."

At lightning crashed overhead, and thunder boomed Ben could only sigh. He quietly rolled his eyes as the door opened invitingly and warmth already escaped onto him. A part of him heard his mother nagging him to run... The other told him, by some weird notion, that he had to get in the truck.

Five minutes later, he found himself filled with enough warmth, and exhaustion that rest took him over... Long before he could tell the man where he was headed. But he could vaguely hear words that gave him pause:

"Recharge well, Benjamin."


Optimus Prime had been searching for months when he'd found the Bakers.

The father had been a close friend of the Witwicky's once upon a time, and there had been some notion that the man may have some of his old possessions. Optimus had gone to investigate while Bumblebee focused his leads on the Witwicky family.

Eventually, Prime had found the family in Oregon, only to find a dead end. He hadn't meant to cause Decepticon attention, only being made aware that they had gotten the same clue after they'd turned the family home into smoldering ash. Killing both adult humans, and leaving a single, adolescent child.

A normal adult would have let it go. A normal adult was not Optimus Prime.

The Autobot leader had spent some time tracking Benjamin after his escape. But had quickly given up on the effort when he'd lost his trail in Nevada. So if felt as though fate had laughed in his face when Bumblebee's news of the glasses put him on this exact road... Right behind the orphaned boy.

He'd wanted to help protect him then, and now had been no different. Even with his parents gone, the boy remained a loose end. Something Decepticons hated more than anything. And while Optimus had seen many innocents die in this war, he refused to allow it to happen again. Not when in his processor he could have done more to prevent the entire situation...

And so there they were, cruising down the highway. The boy was naturally exhausted, given his vital signs weren't the greatest. Optimus almost preferred him asleep anyway for the first leg of their journey. It meant less questions, and less complications.

Allowing him his rest, Optimus scanned the channels again. Checking in from time to time with fellow Autobots, and making sure Decepticons stayed off of his tail. A part of him questioned if he should inform the others that he had picked up a passenger - while the other stopped him.

He could hear Ratchet's protests already. And thus decided he would keep this new revelation to himself.

His holomatter avatar turned its head silently, watching as the boy curled into his seats. In the time since, he had clearly lost much weight, and looked like hell. The dirt caking his shirt and hair told Optimus they'd need to stop somewhere to fix it. Or risk a plethora of questions.

It would be complicated, but they would manage.

At least, that was what he told himself as he straightened his rear view mirror and started silently into the night.