This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
It couldn't be. This just wasn't how it was all supposed to end.
Arcee stood numb, feeling as though all of her internal circuitry had been simply scooped out of her. She felt hollow and empty as she lingered at Ratchet's elbow, watching as he worked the consuls, searching, scanning.
Any form of normalcy was desperately clung to now. So it was, that Ratchet had readily plied himself to the task for searching out any sign, any hint of Optimus' signal; an endeavor he had set himself rigidly to the moment he had finished repairs to Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee after that final and fateful clash with Unicron. But Ratchet was no fool, he knew what they sought was really little more than a whisper of hope; what he was searching for now was something, anything that could afford them the chance to find Optimus, to find him and bring him back. To be honest, he was more likely to find a wayward cube of energon floating aimlessly through space in some far distant galaxy. Particularly since Ratchet wasn't entirely sure if Optimus' signal was the same. Since Optimus had drained the Matrix of Leadership and lost his memories, the Autobot's Medical Officer was no longer certain if Optimus was technically a Prime anymore. Of course, Optimus would always be their Prime, their chosen leader; Matrix of Leadership be slagged. But without the Matrix, Ratchet could not be certain that Optimus' life signature would be entirely unchanged, and even with the most minute alteration, the slightest fluctuations in such a signature could render all of Ratchet's efforts as fruitless and awry. Such doubts plagued his processor incessantly, though he had yet to share such concerns with the others. All of them—himself included—had such high hopes riding on Ratchet's ability to search for Optimus' life signal. In such a dark time, with morale so low, Ratchet was not about to deny them any small comfort or snuff the small ember of hope they still had. Because just maybe they would be able to track and locate Optimus' signal, and just maybe they would be able to bring him back, and just maybe be able to restore his memories so that just maybe their world could be right again. Ratchet had, in his long existence, hoped for crazier things.
Beside him, Arcee's large blue optics tracked the flowing streams of data on the screens no less intently than his did; though her optical movements were precise, Ratchet knew that she felt as lost as he did. Normally he would have found her constant and rather close proximity irksome, but given the circumstances, the often taciturn medical officer simply didn't have it in him to utter any harsh words to anyone, human or bot alike. So, she continued to remain by his side unchallenged, much as she had for the past few weeks.
Life at the Autobot base, since that fateful battle, felt as though it had been suspended somehow. Optimus, their leader, their Prime, their source of strength and courage, and above all their friend, was gone. Not dead, but turned against them at Megatron's illicit behest. It was a fate worse than death, Arcee believed. How much easier it would have been to accept that Optimus was dead. Of course grappling with Cliffjumper's death was hard enough for her even now, and to accept Optimus' would be excruciating, but at least there would be definitive and undeniable closure; but this, this was worse. It made her tanks churn just knowing that Optimus was out there, without his memory, and without any knowledge of who he was, susceptible to whatever honeyed words Megatron could drum up. Coupled with the realization that he was now surrounded by Con's made her want to get out there, to hunt for the Nemesis herself, to drive until she couldn't any more, and then pull the cursed Decepticon warship apart panel by panel, piece by piece, and offline any Con in her path.
Of a like mind, it was similarly no trouble at all for Ratchet to recall how persuasive Megatron could be; unlike the other Autobots, the medical officer remembered all too clearly how manipulative the leader of the Decepticon's had been before the outbreak of the war, before Orion had become Optimus Prime. If anything, Ratchet would have agreed with Arcee that they needed to do whatever they could, whatever they had to, in order to get Optimus away and out of the clutches of Megatron.
Yet, abruptly ceasing his thoughts that had been spiraling downward, one of the many redundant quantum algorithms Ratchet had been running chimed at him; a signal that it had completed its set search pattern. Completed, it informed him, and found nothing, not a single sign, trace or even whisper. Beside him, he could feel Arcee's delicate shoulders bow ever so slightly at yet another sign of failure, of defeat. In that moment, Ratchet could only wonder how much more they could take of this, how much longer could they last with such constant defeat?
Without even asking, Arcee leaned slightly forward, her delicate fingers deftly keying in encodes for the next algorithm. Yes, each result that returned nothing was painful, but Arcee would keep trying, keep going because that was all they had left. They could do nothing now except keep trying. Ratchet's optics lingered on her delicate features, taking in the silent lines of sorrow and frustration that had been written there. If she was so willing to keep trying, then so would he.
Behind them the sound of a heavy footfalls approaching breached the silence. Gears and servos sighed as they shifted in a familiar cadence. For the briefest of moments Arcee let her audio receptors glitch, as she allowed herself to believe that those approaching steps belonged to another bot instead. But her self-induced illusion was shattered when the voice that called to them lacked the rolling, velvet timber of Optimus'.
"Hey Cee, hey Ratch."
Bulkhead.
Even he was beginning to sound worn down.
A weary-sort of chirrup sounded from behind him, and Bumblebee stepped out from behind Bulkhead, balancing Raf on his palm. Unlike Arcee, Ratchet had paused in his scanning long enough to spare Bulkhead, Bumblebee and the children a perfunctory greeting nod.
With a timid word of greeting to both Arcee and Ratchet, Miko dashed up the stairs, while Bumblebee deftly deposited Raf upon the platform. Both youths were quick to take command of the dusty couch and small boxy TV.
"No band practice today?" Bulkhead rumbled in his way of asking if Miko wanted to play her infamous guitar. At the question Miko perked up, it was the first time since Optimus had left them that Bulkhead had asked such a question.
"No."
Ratchet's terse bark echoed over to them. While he too, sought out some solace in the familiar, and though he did find comfort in the constant presence of the human children, Miko's prancing around playing songs from her favorite punk metal bands was not something that his nerves could take at the moment. That, and he couldn't afford for his focus to waiver, he needed to keep searching, to keep try—
"Aw, c'mon Ratch! I'd play your favorite song!"
"I don't have a favorite song from you, Miko." Resolute, Ratchet determinedly kept his focus on the screens before him, keying in another algorithm.
" 'Cause you like 'em all right!"
"I'd tolerate some of what humans call music, but what you play, Miko, isn't music."
"Yes it is, doc bot! It's the rocking tunes that symbolize the metal awesomeness of—"
"Its noise, Miko!" Ratchet turned away from the consul, rounding on the young girl, "And I will not subject anyone's audio receptors to your obnoxious attempt at what you call music!"
"Hey, easy Ratch…"Bulkhead eased forward as Miko looked up at Ratchet, her eyes watering dangerously as her bottom lip trembled. Normally, Miko would have met his temper with sass and attitude; it never ceased to amaze Bulkhead at how well she could hold her own in almost any argument, with almost any bot. But, this wasn't 'normally,' things hadn't been 'normal' for weeks now.
Just as observant as Bulkhead, Ratchet couldn't miss the signs of the tears that welled up in Miko's eyes, threatening to fall; so much for being mindful and careful of everyone's feelings. They had all been rubbed emotionally raw, and had been for sometime now. Ratchet let out a long suffering sigh; it was so easy to just be angry at everyone, it made the sense of loss and betrayal somehow easier to bear but he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. That wasn't to say though that he wanted to listen to her play her particular brand of music at the moment, but, again, he hadn't meant to make her cry, to cause more pain, more sorrow.
"Miko," He attempted to begin, "I didn't mean to…what I meant was…"
But Miko had already turned her back to the medic, trying to stifle any sniffles, "Its cool." She snapped, her tone frigid enough to freeze a scraplet.
"Miko, I'm sorry…"
Nothing, no response.
"H-hey, Miko, want to play a video game with me?" The sound of Raf's wavering voice breaking the tension. Just like that the moment was gone, the chance for Ratchet to ask for her forgiveness lost. Feeling as though he would rather be eaten by a swarm of said scraplets, Ratchet looked to Bulkhead, who only gestured helplessly.
I didn't mean to hurt her feelings, he used a silent comm. channel.
It's okay, Ratch, just give her some time, she's stronger than she looks, she'll get over it.
And with that, Bulkhead moved to take up his familiar post just beyond the railing behind Miko and Raf to watch as they powered up the old video game system. It was a ritual they all clung to because the game's cheery electronic beeps—beeps that Bumblebee would emulate from time to time to draw strained laughter out of the humans, a sound which lifted the spirits of all the Cybertronians— was yet another symbol of normalcy they all yearned for.
"So…any luck with the search, partner?" Another human voice spoke up, breaking into the quiet that had formed with Miko and Raf's attention elsewhere. Here at least was a reason for Arcee's spirits to lift, if but marginally and only briefly. Since they had lost Optimus, Jack had been there constantly, serving as a voice of encouragement, trying to keep everyone's morale's up. Truly, Jack was a testament to just how resilient humans could be. At first, the sound of Raf and Miko's voices hadn't caused Arcee to shift a single piston, but when Jack's voice rose up in the fray, she at last stepped away from her sentinel like position at the screens.
In all honesty, Jack didn't expect much in the way of an answer from Arcee, and knew better than to push for one. Afterall, he had lost count of how many times over the last few weeks had he tried to talk to her and had been met with nothing but resolute silence. Those times he could have elicited a greater response from a brick wall. So he was surprised when she turned away from the consuls to greet him.
"Hey partner," Her voice seemed hollow, but still retained at least a glimmer of cheerfulness, "So far we haven't turned up much of anything, yet…" Her movements measured and fluid, she knelt down holding out her hand, palm up; the gesture was familiar and welcoming for Jack who had watched, helplessly, Arcee struggle to not succumb to her grief and frustrations over the last few weeks. Not one to hesitate, Jack was quick to clamber up into her palms, a feat which required surprising dexterity from both of them given the cycle-bots smaller stature.
"How's school going?" Again, another stab a normal conversation that Jack wouldn't deny the comfort Arcee was seeking from such mundane questions.
"Its—" but he was abruptly cut off by the insistent deep tones of an alarm bell that resounded suddenly throughout the hanger.
It was to Arcee's credit that she didn't drop Jack out of sheer surprise, or that she was able to keep him from toppling over as she darted back to the screens, only to be jostled by Ratchet, Bumblebee and Bulkhead who all had the same intentions. Only a terse and biting command from Ratchet brought order to the fray, and had Bumblebee and Bulkhead yielding to give her and the medic some space. Arcee had a brief moment to feel a cross between thankful and proud that Ratchet hadn't ordered her back; clearly he felt her to be an equal part of his efforts in conducting the search.
"It's not Optimus," Ratchet promptly informed them, his fingers flying expertly across the keyboards, "But it is a reading of energon—a good amount of it—being moved."
"Decepticons!" Miko shouted.
Ratchet nodded, "It's the first sign of Decepticon activity since Unicron's defeat."
"What do you think—" but here, yet another eletronic signal sounding interrupted Jack's question. An all too familiar countenance popped up on the screen, accompanying the energon in transit.
"Megatron!" Arcee's voice dripped with disgust.
"Ratch, if Megatron is moving the energon, you don't think that maybe…" Bulkhead trailed off, glancing questioningly around to his fellow bots.
"That it's possible that Optimus is with him?" After a long considering moment, Ratchet nodded, "Yes, I certainly think it's possible."
"Wait, but if Optimus is with him shouldn't you have been able to pick up his signal?" With a heavy spark, Ratchet met Jack's gaze. There was no use in hiding his doubts any longer. So it was that Ratchet told them, keeping his optics leveled on Jack most of the time, he at last revealed to all of them the suspicions he had been harboring all of this time.
Bumblebee reacted first in a tirade of angry and aggressive sounding clicks and whistles. Arcee nodded, radiating frustration and defiance, "I'm with Bee. Optimus is still our Prime, Matrix of Leadership or not."
"No one, least of all me, is challenging that," Ratchet was quick to try and plicate them, "not matter what any tradition dictates or says, Optimus is still our Prime. I'm just saying we must proceed with caution, if I can't pick up on his signal, we can never be sure of where he is or isn't."
"Though I doubt Megatron wouldn't take Optimus with him." Arcee gestured to Megatron's still moving signal.
"Then you know what to expect when you get there."
It was as much of an order as Ratchet could attempt. Without Optimus, there was no clear chain of command; he had never made a clear distinction of who was his second in command, for often he would allow such responsibilities to shift between Ratchet and Arcee. Thus far Bulkhead and Bumblebee had been content to follow either Arcee or Ratchet, who in turn, had been yielding to each other in a constant and tentative dance of leadership. There were plenty of times when Ratchet let Arcee take the lead—such as when she assigned and coordinated patrol routes and shifts—and similarly Arcee would frequently yield to Ratchet's more experienced authority—mostly when Fowler arrived. But here, faced with the first Decepticon encounter, their indecisive balancing act of a shared command faced its first definitive challenge. Who would remain back at the base for ground bridge duty? Should Ratchet go in the event that Optimus was there and was in need of medical attention?
Never one to trip over formalities, at least not for long, Arcee gently set Jack down on the balcony beside the search consul before turning to squarely face Ratchet, "Well?"
His answering smirk was wry, "I'm no use to you in combat, not unless I'm on Synth-En, " this earned an unwitting chuckle from Bulkhead. Reflexively, Ratchet keyed in the correct coordinates and activated the ground bridge, it's blue and green swirling lights washed the scene in its vibrant and ghostly hues, making the decision all the more real; no one had used the ground bridge since the battle with Unicron.
Arcee nodded, accepting his decision, she turned to look at Bumblebee and Bulkhead. She didn't have to say that they were going for more than energon, that in all likelihood Optimus was there. With Megatron. They all knew what waited for them on the other side of the ground bridge. Yet, as Arcee turned to face that swirling tunnel of light she couldn't bring herself to urge the others to "Roll out!" That wasn't her place, had never been. Luckly for Arcee, Miko helped her out of her predicament.
"Go bash some 'Cons!" She shrilly cried, a chorus that was promptly taken up by Raf and Jack.
Now it was Arcee's turn to smirk, "You heard them," She glanced back at Bulkhead and Bee, "Lets go bash some 'Cons!" As they charged headlong into the array of lights, Arcee couldn't help but add silently: And bring our Prime back home…
Because this wasn't how it was supposed to be.