What have I done?
The thought plagued him, settled in his joints, ached, then gnawed, bit, and became an open sore to chaff at his spark casing, to ooze guilt.
What have I done?
Orion galvanized his engine, forced it to become a roar, a thunderous growl, let it snarl out his frustrations, his fear. But his chassis shuddered under the strain as bright blue beads of energon leaked, seeped through cracks and crevices as he drove, only to splatter against the pavement that pushed against his tires. An unearthly iridescent trail of the liquid gems fanned out behind him, marking clearly for those who knew how to look.
His injuries were too great, he was straining himself too much, beyond his reserves; his neural net was aflame, searing and screaming with alarms, with alerts and with agony. The transformation alone had invoked even more damage, had widened the tear in his energon vein, ripped at edges that had been charred by Bulkhead's near point blank shot. Still, Orion drove, wanting to push himself beyond the pain, beyond the sorrow he had incurred, beyond his doubts, his guilt. So he drove, on and on and on…
What am I? Who am I…who is this mech that I am becoming?
He was caught, suspended in this stasis, in this borderland of grey he lingered in maddening eddies of uncertainty.
Autobot…
Decepticon…
His frame, the colors he bore, the emblem that was seared into his very metal told him that he was beholden onto his Decepticon brethren, that he owed everything to Megatronus—Megatron, his processor whispered. But if that were truly so, if that was what he indeed believed, why then did his spark cry out, yearn and grieve every time he encountered one of the Autobots or looked upon their symbol?
Over and over, Ratchet came to his mind, flashes and pieces, the corners of images: of the expression of pain in Ratchet's optics, of the moment when his sword bit into the medic's side, the spray of spilt energon—Ratchet's energon—as it washed over his hands, his arms, his chassis. But it had been the only way…the only action that had been left to him…And yet even such logic algorithms did nothing to decrease the weight of responsibility, it teased at him, mocked him, condemned him. Why had he done it? What did he do it for…? He could have killed Ratchet so easily when that swell of strength had filled him, had altered his very programming. It was still there, that reservoir of energy, that newfound power, Orion could feel it, could sense the difference within himself. And all of that strength was his to command now, the strength of a Prime…a quiet voice breathed, whispered to the edges of his consciousness. Where had it come from?
Memory…
That one, specific memory that had filled him, rose unbidden, the memory of him looking down, down into Ratchet's optics, caught up in that unshakable certainty that millennia ago he…he as Prime, had held Ratchet, had kept him in this life and served as his anchor, his shield.
I defend…I protect…
Optimus, Ratchet had called him, had cried out to him, pleading, Optimus Prime…
Yes, Orion's spark answered without hesitation now, yes I am he… certainty grew, blossomed, as more pieces clicked into place, as memory became clearer, a little less frosted over from doubt, yes…I am this Optimus…
Ratchet was his medic…his friend…his Autobot brethren…it was why he had saved him, had made it only appear as though he was acting upon Megatronus' bidding, why he had endeavored to make Megatronus believe that he was terminating the Autobot. That was why he had almost allowed himself to slay Ratchet.
For Megatronus…for the look of glee that had swelled Megatronus' expression as he had watched his brother strike the Autobot medic down. More than mere victory over an opponent—over a perceived opponent—Orion had witnessed something darker, deeper in his brother's gaze; he had watched Megatronus savor Ratchet's pain, had witnessed him drink in what he believed were the Autobot's death throes like a sweet elixir. Disgust rolled through Orion as the realization dawned. Truly the eons had not been kind to Megatronus.
Megatron…
Reluctant acceptance filled him. The mech he had called brother, the being he looked to for guidance would have never rejoiced in the energon-shed of another in such an overt manner. So it was, Orion let the truth settle into his frame, Megatronus was gone, had fallen to the thralls of Megatron, a mech who had become hardened, bitter, and vicious. Oh my friend…my brother…Orion mourned…what changed you so? What loss did you bear that pushed you down such a dark path? Who did you lose—?
Orion's engine faltered, his frame jolted as sweet, honey thick pain wrested his attention into the moment. Immediately, he attuned himself to self-diagnostic scans, looking for the problem, for the drain to his systems. The answer slammed into him: energon, he was hemorrhaging too much energon, enough that he could no longer ignore it, could no longer push his systems so callously. He shunted what was left of the precious substance to only vital functions, shutting down unnecessary sub-routines, peripheral communication lines, anything, every program that was not critical. Even still, he knew he could not continue in such a way, that he wouldn't last much longer before his core processor forced him into stasis.
Again, frustration filled him; he didn't have time for this, for this pain, for these wounds. Arcee was out there, needed him to find her…and there was Miko to think of, she need him too, depended on him to protect her, defend her. Though, at the moment, he would need her help, would need her as much as she needed him.
"Miko…" he called to her, his timber no longer mighty and decisive, but hollow, weak, fading, "Miko…"
She sat, stiffly, calmly, caught, held and suspended in the eye of her storm of emotions.
"Miko…"
Those last moments played over and over, and over again in her mind; wouldn't fade, wouldn't go away.
"Miko…"
Again and again, she saw it, saw as the black and purple arm drove forward, buried the sword up to the hilt within Ratchet's side. Beads of bright blue energon bubbled up, and Ratchet shuddered, his hands flying to Orion's wrist, clamping down…
"Miko…"
Again she heard Ratchet's voice, heard him plead with Orion. She had looked on, had done nothing, watched as Ratchet shook his helm, refusing to believe, "Optimus…oh Optimus…why? My Prime…"
"Miko."
There was enough force in his voice this time to snap her back to attention, "What?" she snarled. She wrapped her arms around herself, drew her knees up, closing herself up, away from him.
"Are you alright? You haven't spoken…you didn't answer…" She looked out of his window then, realized that the outskirts of town were already falling away, that once more they were diving into the desert. A lone tear rolled down her cheek as the miles dissipated, with every passing stretch of highway he was carrying her far, far out of reach of her friends…her family…
"How could you?" It was a violent whisper fraught with accusation, "How could you?"
"Miko…I would ask your help—"
Slowly but surely she grew louder, more heated as her numb sorrow boiled into the heat of anger, unhearing of his request, "How could you! After everything! How—just how! How could you forget who you are? How could lose yourself so much that, that…"Her breath hitched, more tears pushed at her eyes, made them ache, "…that you could do such a thing…"
"Miko—"
"You killed him…" she breathed, "you killed him…after all that has happened, after all that he has done for you…you killed Ratchet…"
"No, Miko..."
"Don't you dare lie to me!" she hissed, she wanted to rail and rage at him now, to blame him, to curse him, to curse what he had become. With a sob she slammed her fists against his steering wheel, making it shudder under the force of her blows, "Don't you lie to me!" She gasped, "Or is that a new habit you picked up? Did you take that up too when you changed your colors! You—you—you Decepti-creep!"
An awful silence filled the cab in the wake of her outburst.
When he at last broke the quiet, his tone was thick, heavy and deeply grieved, "Is that how you think of me now?"
Calmer, cautious, Miko spoke up again, "Is that what you are now? You're truly a Decepticon?" Miko's lip trembled, "Are you this Nemesis Prime then? Not Optimus, not Orion? You belong to Megatron now…?"
"Miko, listen to me…please…" Wearily he pulled off the road, aiming for rolling hills that he could hide behind, where he could rest and allow his internal repairs to swing into full gear. More than this, he wanted to transform—despite the pain he knew it would cause—and look upon her in his natural guise and could have this conversation face to face.
"I do not know where Megatron came up with this...this Nemesis Prime, truly I do not. But I can assure you that I am not that construct, and while we are brothers I certainly do not belong to him." At last he reached the solitude of the hills, was shielded by them, slowly, as he turned off the road, did their shadows envelope him. His servos gasped, struggled against his commands as he pulled to a stop and let his engine die. Here, in the quiet and shade of the hills, his armor was all black, the purple leeched from it completely.
"Miko, through all that has transpired I have come to trust you, to rely upon you most…please, hear me now…" Beneath her, he trembled as a tendril of energon began to pool beneath him, beneath his undercarriage, "I understand now…I see…I accept, that I was once a Prime…I was your Prime, I was this Optimus, just as I am and was Orion."
"But you killed Ratchet!"
"No, Miko…no. Injured yes, but never could I bring myself to extinguish his spark…I cannot remember all, but I recall enough to recognize that he and I were friends…are friends…and all that he has given of himself these past few days has been for my benefit. How could I return such sacrifice with an execution?"
"But, I saw him fall! I saw you stab him!" She would not listen, would not hear, "You're lying!"
"Miko please…"
"Liar!" She snapped, and he winced under the weight of the word, as if it were a blow he could not counter.
"Miko, think…remember…remember what you saw!" There was a bite to his words now, a terseness she perceived as anger and temper, but was only honed from physical pain and nothing more.
"Oh I'm not the one who lost their memories! I didn't lose myself, I didn't betray all of my friends! I can remember just fine!" There was the click and hiss of air releasing as he opened his door for her, wanting her to get out so that he could transform, could relieve some of the pain. But she looked at that yawning opening as a rejection and with a kick to the doorframe she leapt down, her footfalls creating a soft plume of dry earth as she snarled back at him, "I remember, remember just fine…how…how…" She saw it then, as she turned to regard the cab before her. There, just along the hem of the door streamed rivulets of bright liquid, blue and iridescent the droplets spun, danced, tumbled and fell from his running boards like an unearthly waterfall in miniature.
Energon…the sight catapulted her to her knees as she remembered, remembered how his grip around Ratchet's throat relaxed, released as he gently lowered the medic until his white peds could touch the ground again. That same hand which moments ago sought to crush Ratchet's throat now lifted, sliding around to cradle Ratchet's head, tilted it forward till the red and white helm touched a black and purple helm.
"Ratchet…"A voice, world weary, full of caverns and midnight called to the medic, "Primus does not call to you…not yet…"
"Oh…Orion…oh…" So much suffering…so much death…A cresting wave of sickness washed over her as horror and realization sparked within her gaze, and suddenly it didn't matter that the mech before her had in all likelihood killed Ratchet. No, all that mattered now was that he was bleeding, bleeding so much…because of Bulkhead.
She had lost Ratchet because of Orion and now, now as she stood there just watching, now she was slowly losing Orion because of her Bulkhead, her Bulk…what atrocity was this, what fratricide…her mind, heart and body trembled in the wake of this fresh horror.
"Please, Miko hear me," She felt awful at the bruised feelings that lurked behind his basso, "I need your help…"
Fear tripped up her tongue, tasting bitter and acrid she stumbled forward, fingertips ghosting over the leak, but not daring to touch, not wanting to hurt him more, "Orion…"
No words could he manage now, as after many empty moments he gathered himself, reached for that reservoir of strength and forced the transformation. His frame ached and moaned, his wounds shrieking, setting his neural net burning, as he struggled to make the transition. His movements were jerky and rough, and when the last panel shifted into place he knelt before her, shuddering and ex-venting from the effort.
"Orion…?" He heard her, heard the fear in her voice, but could not answer, did not have the strength left to reassure her with empty nothings. He kept his optics shuttered as he urged his repair systems to take effect, bracing himself against the earth. But it was too little too late, and Miko hiccuped a sob as she watched, helpless, as his palms slipped against the earth and he toppled, a crumbling Corinthian column giving way. A cloud of dust surged up from the earth, stirred only by a dry, grating sound, a wheeze as he continued to ex-vent, to struggle to say online. When the red haze at last cleared, Miko ran forward but came to a crashing halt when her foot splashed into a very thick, wet something.
Her stomach lurched dangerously as she looked down, down at the bright blue liquid beneath her tennis shoe. That was when she heard it, heard the yawning growl of an approaching jet, the thrum vibrating the air around her. "No, no, no, no…" she ran forward then, straight to where he tilted his head against the earth, his audio finials making scratching sounds as they stirred the dirt as he moved his visage, looking for her.
"Miko…?" He needed to get up, to protect her, keep her safe from Megatron…
"I'm here, Orion…I'm here…" She slid forward on her knees, throwing her willowy arms around his neck, as far around as she could, her cheek nestled in the hollow of his throat. All the while the jet engine grew louder, more insistent, and she knew, knew within the very marrow of her bones that not only had the aircraft spotted them, but that it was no earthen machine crafted by humble human hands. There was the clang of metal, of a transformation, the crunch of rock behind them as the Decepticon landed.
"Well now…isn't this most interesting…"
Miko clamped her eyes shut, not wanting to see, to look as a name escaped Orion's voice box, a name that filled her with dread, and matched the rasp of the voice that had spoken. That name, his name, as it rumbled from Orion, elected deep though delicate vibrations in his vocal cords, the syllables he uttered humming and buzzing against her thin arms.
"Starscream…?"
A sibilant hiss, silky and venomous echoed up around them as he drew out the sound, "Yessss…."
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A/N: Our apologies that Bumbee and I fell off the face of the earth for a few days there! Unfortunately, as the new school year begins updates may become more far and few between, but do not fear, dear reader, we'll keep De Cinere well on its way (especially as we linger so close to completion now... ;) )
Please R&R!
~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee