My bond-brother was waiting patiently for me on the aircraft carrier, and I drew a deep breath, steeling my courage.
"Optimus," I greeted him.
"Sam," he said, nodding my way.
I tentatively reached out – so far, he hadn't seemed angry all day, even though he had every right to be – and found nothing but peace and a hint of curiosity in his spark.
"You are uneasy," he observed.
"Yeah, well, I seem to recall you being a bit...touchy about brothers betraying you."
He looked sharply my way. "You have not betrayed me."
I felt the not-question behind his statement, though, along with the fear and pain that always bubbled just below the surface whenever he talked about Megatron as his former brother. As much as it scared me to admit it, I said, "I chose someone else over you today."
The fear eased and the pain subsided, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. "Sam, she has agreed to be your wife. It is right and good that you would choose her over me."
While that made me less terrified, it did nothing to assuage my guilt. Optimus and I were spark-bound brothers. We were unique – no Cybertronian bond had ever bridged the gap between species before. We were there for each other in all the ways that mattered for both his race and mine. What we had ran deep.
And frankly, what Mikaela and I shared didn't. Not like this. Not on a spark-to-spark level where we could hear each other's thoughts and feel each other's feelings. I wished it could, I wished that Mikeala could be my Cybertronian-style mate and not just my wife, but despite my bond with Optimus, at the end of the day, she and I were just human. A spark-bond wasn't going to happen for us. As much as it sucked, it wasn't going to happen.
And as far as Cybertronian thinking went, bonds defined the relationship. I was kin to Optimus, but since Mikaela didn't have a bond with him, she wasn't, no matter what kind of human ties bound us. So yes, she was going to be my wife, but I understood Cybertronian culture well enough to know that it would still have to sting for him that I chose her over bond-kin.
"Sam," he said again, wrapping me up in a hug of the heart. "She will be kin as much as any other human could be."
I sighed heavily, grateful for his forgiveness. "For what it's worth, she claimed you as kin, too. Kinda. She said that you all are her Autobots, too, and that she wants to see the Matrix recharged. She's not making me choose."
His pleased surprise at that made me feel marginally better, but I still felt compelled to admit, "But I did anyway."
"And you made the right choice." His sincerity drove the words home into my spark.
I nodded slowly, grateful that he was supporting me on this.
"I assume you had an argument," he commented in his not-question way.
I huffed a bitter laugh. "Yeah, you could say that. I…I don't know, Optimus. We've only been engaged – what, 24 hours? – and I managed to really screw things up already. This is...more complicated than I thought it would be. How are we ever going to make it to the actual wedding?"
A hint of annoyance wafted across the bond, and I suddenly realized he'd been hinting that he'd like to see the memory, but I was too caught up in my own angst to realize it. Laughing at myself, I gave in. "Want to see?"
He nodded, and I let him in to relive the memory with me. Once we were both back on the aircraft carrier, he said, "I understand your concern now. Remember, though, that it took you time to adjust to the role and responsibilities of a Prime. She will likely also need time to adjust. Be patient with her."
"Yeah, that's true, but this is different, too. I mean, she came back and she's not making me choose, but still… I'm asking so much of her. I guess… I didn't even realize how much of a sacrifice all this would be for her. But she's right – I can't ask her to give up the one thing she feels like she's really good at. But now she's insisting that I was right and that people will judge her for working in a blue-collar trade. And I kind of am right, but so is she…"
After a beat of wordless silence, Optimus supplied what I was struggling to articulate. "And all of this is very high stakes for you both."
"Yes," I said, catching my breath (unnecessarily, since my real body was sawing logs at the moment).
"Courage and sacrifice – she is displaying the characteristics of a Prime," he reminded me. "She is a fit mate for you. A perfect match."
I hadn't thought about it that way.
"You will find a compromise that will work for you both. I am confident of that. Elita and I always could."
My heart warmed at the thought of him implying Mikeala and I were as solid as he and Elita had been. He had been a source of knowledge and understanding for so many other things… "I don't suppose you'd be willing to share some brotherly Prime insights into how to hammer out a compromise like that?"
His affection swelled to envelope me, and I knew his answer before he could say it.
He took us to a memory on Cybertron. It was daylight and we were surrounded by rough terrain, almost like a canyon. Prowl stood with us and in a semicircle behind us were a group of mechs in their alt-forms that included Bumblebee. In front of us was another bunch of mechs and a midnight-blue femme I didn't recognize.
Gesturing to the mechs behind us, Optimus said, "Near the beginning of the war, Prowl and I came here with the Temple guardians to meet with the leaders of Praxus. Elita and Arcee traveled with us as medical support. We were negotiating with the Praxians regarding the distribution of energon."
That explained the energon vessel at the femme's feet.
Then Optimus set the memory in motion. The femme smiled slightly and stooped to pick up the vessel.
The ground erupted beneath Optimus' feet, throwing him back several paces. He lay there, stunned, and since I was in his memory, I was thrown for a loop, too.
We could hear shouts and more explosions, and over both, a high-pitched screaming. Elita's voice pierced the chaos, calling for Arcee.
The words "set up" and "ambush" were tossed around, and Elita shouted back, "Those are Megatron's Seekers!"
Optimus sat up, shaking his helm and trying to process what he was seeing and hearing. The Praxian femme's back-strut was snapped, and Arcee was frantically working on her, welding braces on either side to stabilize the break. The Temple guardians were firing at the sky, and Elita appeared beside us. "Give me your rifle, Optimus."
"No, you're supposed to be…"
"Rifle! NOW!"
He pulled it from subspace and she snatched it up. Running several paces to the right and ducking behind a boulder, she took aim and fired several shots. One of them struck home, taking down a Seeker. Despite his own scrambled processors, Optimus was grudgingly impressed. The extinguished Seeker's trinemates rained down munitions, but Elita was already on the move, drawing their fire away from the wounded.
Optimus crawled toward the injured femme, frustrated he was still too rattled to stand.
"I've done all I can," Arcee reported. "We've got to get her out of here."
He sat back on his heels and gestured the cowering Praxians forward. An orange mech hurried over. "Can you carry her?" Optimus asked.
He solemnly nodded, and the Praxian femme reached up to touch Optimus' arm. "You and the Temple Guardians were supposed to come alone."
Optimus tilted his helm toward Arcee. "She is my mate's sister and came as our medic."
"The sharpshooter is your mate?"
He bristled a little at the term 'sharpshooter' but answered, "Yes."
"We will speak again," she promised, and the orange mech carefully picked her up.
Abruptly, we skipped forward in his memories to Ratchet treating him back at their base. "It's a miracle that dent in your helm didn't result in permanent damage," the medic grumbled. "How were you even able to drive?"
"He kept weaving," Elita answered, her arms crossed and her voice dead serious. "Prowl and Bumblebee had to take point on either side of him."
Ratchet huffed. "Well, I've reinforced the cracked circuit-board and soldered the broken wiring. Your equilibrium may be off for a few solar cycles, but your internal repair systems should be able to take it from here." He glanced sharply at Elita and, nodding in answer to whatever she'd commed him, left without another word.
"You're still blocking our bond," Optimus observed once they were alone.
She gave him a wry smile. "It's better if at least one of us is capable of walking in a straight line."
"That's the only reason?"
"There's also the fact that you're angry with me," she said, finally letting her arms fall to her side, "and I've not been inclined to wander around in your processors long enough to figure out why. There were other pressing matters to worry about – like getting us home without you crashing into something."
"I'm not…" He vented a long sigh.
"You are, but it's more complicated than just that," she admitted. "Rest up, and when you're not staggering around like an overcharged star-sailor anymore, we'll talk."
Then we skipped forward again to him in the "room" he shared with Elita. The walls were uncut stone, and it had a low pallet for a berth and some kind of mesh hanging over the entrance instead of a door. Optimus lay in the darkness, staring sullenly at the ceiling. Elita slipped into the room, carrying a small cup of energon. "Feeling better?" she asked.
"We should save that energon for the sparklings of Praxus," he answered.
"I think the overgrown sparkling right here needs it more," she said, sitting beside him on the pallet.
His frustration swelled to genuine anger again, and this time she had loosened the block enough that she sensed it. Extending the cup to him, she said, "Titles are going to your head, Prime."
"This isn't about my pride," he said, turning his helm to glare at the wall.
She dropped the block entirely. Then what is it about, spark of mine?
Images flashed in his mind and across the bond in quick succession: the Praxian snapped in half, Elita with his rifle, Elita who wasn't even supposed to be there taking command and giving orders as readily as he did, a crater where Elita had been standing astroseconds before, his imagined scene of Elita being the one snapped in half.
Oh, she softly answered. It's about fear.
He snorted. If you're going to call me a coward, then your overgrown sparkling is ready for his energon now.
Not a coward, Elita clarified, ignoring his (surprising) sarcasm. It was a cloak, a defense against the near-despair that was eating at him, and she knew it. She set aside the cup and curled up next to him. It's fear of loss. A very adult, very valid fear in these uncertain times. Even more so for someone who has lost as much as you have.
Grim humor swept through him. I'm grateful my valiant half thinks it's a valid fear now. I just wish you had come to that conclusion before you insisted on being the security escort for Arcee. I never imagined you'd deliberately draw the fire of two Seekers that way!
I never imagined that Megatron would be bold enough to attack Praxus' ruling council that way.
She had him there – Optimus hadn't expected an attack like that either, not against civilian government leaders and in broad daylight. If he had, he wouldn't have let the femmes tag along on the pretense of medical support just so they could get out of the caves for a while. Ironhide would no doubt have some sage but biting words on that score, once Optimus was recovered enough to show his faceplates in the command center again. But that was a completely different issue.
His frustration surged to the fore. All I could do was lie there helplessly while you stood in my stead, firing my rifle, running my risks, giving my orders, and protecting my mechs.
I'm half of you, Optimus, she protested.
It should have been Prowl. He's the head of the Temple guardians.
I am half of you, she repeated. Prowl obeyed my orders because they were the Prime's orders.
I can't lose you. The thought frightened him so much that the words were a whisper, even in his spark.
I'm not the one whose helm was literally cracked open in the last solar cycle, she answered. I could see your neural wiring arcing through that gash. She rested her hand on the armor over his spark chamber. I don't want to lose you either. But we won't lose each other. We can't. We are spark-mated. We are one, Optimus. Even if one of us were extinguished, we will always be half of each other.
I can't send you into another firefight, Elita. I can't give orders that could… A little sob welled up in him, choking off the thought.
Ah. She finally understood. I see where you're coming from now. And you're right. This will be a problem. I agree that we can't go forward like this. I'm not sure I could give orders that could or maybe even would result in your injury or death.
He imagined her staying here, in the caves, but before he could even form the words to ask, she defiantly reversed their places in her imagination.
You're right, he said, that wouldn't be fair to you.
Drink your energon, she answered. And in the meantime, I'll ask Chromia. They must have had some kind of special arrangement in the Defense Forces for bondmates or siblings. We'll figure something out – together.
His spark warmed at both the fact that she was taking his fears seriously and that she was willing to help him find a solution, and he gently squeezed her hand in gratitude.
Abruptly, we were back on the aircraft carrier, and I asked, "So what did you figure out?"
"After seeking the advice of both Ironhide and Chromia, we formed the Elite Guard – a unit specifically for those whose mates or siblings were in positions of leadership so that they were not in the same chain of command. And the unit's name was not flattery. They operated as a highly-effective special ops unit under Elita's independent command. And Ironhide sided with Elita that her authority was equal to mine in the main chain of command. Even more than with human spouses, we were one."
I thought about that, about how even in war their love, their unity, was the most important and most powerful consideration for the entire Autobot army.
And my brother was applying that same consideration to me and Mikaela. I only hoped that we could live up to that kind of expectation! It definitely made me determined to at least try. "Thanks for having my back on this one, Optimus."
He rested an encouraging hand on my shoulder. "Of course, brother."