Chapter Eight

Optimus Prime sat his desk, flipping through piles of documents, sorting them in order of importance, as he had always done for the nine million years that he had been leader (besides the four that he had been dormant). Somehow, this time the prospect of work seemed even less appealing than before. He couldn't say that paperwork was his favorite part of the job, but it had to be done, and usually it distracted him from thinking about matters that were painful to him. Lately his workload had dwindled to almost nothing, but today the small pile seemed like an enormous mountain. He wasn't in the mood for dreary paperwork. Come to think of it, he wasn't in the mood to work at all. Still, there was no sense in putting it off, since there wasn't a whole lot, and the pile would only grow if he didn't weed it out now. Sighing, he opened yet another folder and thumbed through its contents.

A small smile crossed his covered face as his mind wandered back to the very pleasant events of the night before. Now that was a way for a mech to spend his time... who needed paperwork when he had a lovely femme like that? The folder slipped from his hand unnoticed, papers spilling over the floor as his CPU fondly recalled last night's meeting.

He shook his head, studying the paperwork that had spilled onto the floor. 'I really should get this paperwork done,' he told himself, but it sounded lame, even to his own audials. With a resigned sigh, he bent down to straighten up the papers that had

fallen. 'I wonder if Crystal is free tonight,' he mused. 'Well, why wonder any longer?' he asked himself. 'Why not ask her yourself?'

"Optimus Prime to Crystal," he said before he even realized what he was doing.

"Crystal here," a warm voice replied. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I need to see you right away. Please report to my office ASAP."

A throaty chuckle floated out from the receiver. "As you command, sir. On my way."

"Optimus out," the commander said, unable to keep a note of excitement from entering his voice. He sat back, absentmindedly tapping the pile of papers against his palm.

It seemed like an eternity until the buzzer at his office door sounded. "Um... who is it?" he said a bit nervously, suddenly fearful that Kup or Ironhide had decided to drop by and discuss the defense upgrades after all.

"Operative Crystal, reporting for duty," a feminine voice replied, dispelling his fears.

Optimus pressed a button underneath his desk that unlocked the door. "Please come in," he invited her.

Crystal stepped into the office, optics roving around, trying to take everything in at once. Once she had cleared the doors, Optimus pressed another button, and the doors slid shut and automatically locked, assuring their privacy. "So, what do you think?" he said off-handedly.

"It's very official-looking," Crystal said, a bit overwhelmed at finally being in such an important place, alone with the mighty Autobot commander.

Optimus smiled slightly behind his mask. "I didn't invite you here to discuss business."

A slow smile crept across the femme's face. "Oh, good. I hope you're free tonight, because I have a few plans."

"Oh, really?" Optimus inquired, seeming intrigued. "Like what?"

"I thought we could go catch a movie. And after that, we could go explore some of Cybertron's underground passages. Megatron always enjoyed going there, though he always said…" her voice trailed off as Optimus stared at her speechlessly.

"What did you just say?" he said slowly, not believing what he had just heard. "Have you been seeing *Megatron*, of all people? Crystal, how could you? Don't you know that our security is at risk? He could have hurt you, or worse! Primus, you're as bad as everyone says! Is there a mech out there that you *haven't* dated? Just which side are you on, anyway?"

Crystal's face crumpled, and for a moment she looked like she was going to cry. "I didn't expect you to understand," she choked. "After all, you're a mech, you've never had it as hard as we femmes did. We had to scrounge in the Empty Lands for scraps of energon, perform countless raids against Shockwave's fortress, each riskier than the last. We did what we had to do to survive. None of us liked it, but we each knew that it was the price we paid to stay alive. As abominable as things got, life was still too precious to let go." Her lip curled as she fixed the Autobot with a disgusted look. "But you and your cowboys blasted off the planet without a backward glance, leaving us behind to fend for ourselves. We thought you were all dead, and many of the femmes had trouble keeping their spirits alive at the thought of living without their mates. Still, we survived, and the concept became a mantra to us."

Crystal's fists bunched into fists, and her whole frame shook with repressed anger and bitterness. "You stand here and accuse me of consorting with the enemy, when it was my job! Or didn't you know that my unofficial function is 'companion for the Decepticons?'" She smiled bitterly at the shocked look on Optimus Prime's exposed face. "Yeah, you heard right. It's actually my job. Alita *orders* me to go out with the Decepticons! You wouldn't think that someone like me would mind," she spat, "but

some of them, like Bombshell, have some really disgusting ideas. I can't tell you how many times I just wanted to wash myself off with acid after an encounter with them. I suppose I can't really blame you - you're just a man, you can't be expected to understand. But the other femmes know exactly how degrading this kind of work is, but instead of giving me the smallest measure of respect, they look at me as if I crawled out of a waste extractor. Just once, I wish I could be accepted for what I am, shady past and all!"

Prime gazed at her, speechless with horror. He'd had absolutely no idea about any of this. He'd known that the femmes had had to do some less than desirable things to survive, but this exceeded his worst imaginings. All this time he'd believed that the Autobot army had a worthy cause, and that every soldier was prepared to make sacrifices to achieve those goals. But where should he draw the line? When did the sacrifice become too much to make? Here was Crystal, a prime example of a victim in a war without conscience or morals. By Primus, did he make such demands on every soldier under his command? And how could Alita, in all conscience, allow one of her troops to go to such deplorable lengths to gain an advantage over the Decepticons? He shook his head, physically and mentally sickened by the whole idea. They were all Autobots. They were supposed to be better than that. And what had he, Optimus Prime, noble and mighty leader of the Autobots, done? He'd overreacted to a statement she had made, and in the heat of the moment had called her all the vile names that had been whispered behind her back for so long. He'd allowed jealousy and the worries that she was a spy override his better judgment. All she had wanted to do was to give him pleasure, and he had insulted her. He hung his head in shame. Could he tell himself, in good conscience, that he was above that kind of behavior?

"Crystal," he choked, lifting his head to fix her with a guilt-ridden gaze. "I'm so sorry. I had absolutely no idea. Can I ever make it up to you?" He folded the trembling femme into his arms.

"It's a start," Crystal said, her voice muffled, burying her head against his massive chest. "Oh, Optimus, it should be me begging you for forgiveness. I thought you knew about my real job specifications, and I overreacted at your accusations. I hope you can forgive me."

Optimus was unspeakably saddened by those words. Was her self-worth so low that she'd beg him for forgiveness after he insulted her? "B-but I said such terrible things-" He broke off, unable to continue.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Everybody does," Crystal said matter-of-factly, though an edge of bitterness betrayed her. "Frankly, I don't blame them. It may be my job to date the Decepticons for their knowledge, but I have worked my way through the Autobot ranks as well. I've made a lot of enemies without meaning to, and the femmes all hate me for having stolen away their mechs at one point or another."

Optimus felt a sense of dread settle in his chest like a stone. "But you deserve so much better," he said softly. "I can't believe you are treated this way by your own people. And for doing your job, no less." He shuddered once more at the incomprehensible thought.

Crystal lifted her face to look at him sadly, for once letting her true pain show. "I've always been treated this way. I've never known anything better."

Optimus made a promise to himself right then and there that Crystal would learn what it was like to be treated properly. "I'll teach you," he whispered, removing his mask and kissing the top of her head. He couldn't believe how quickly this relationship had gone from casual fling to something much deeper and ambiguous. Although he held this battered femme in his arms, a part of him yearned to be alone, to absorb and ponder this shocking information in privacy. But Crystal needed him, and he, for one, was not about to let her down. Someone had to be there for her. Then why did this whole relationship leave him with a feeling of foreboding?