A/N: This is something that wrote itself about Prime and the human femme he calls his "shoulder angel." Corax has loved Prime from the beginning. She's always there for him. And he loves her forever. This wasn't written as something I would post; but I don't want it to disappear, either.

Much love, my small human pal.

All The Time in the World

Time is a strange thing, thought the Autobot Commander. He was sitting in a clearing on a tree-covered hillside upon the planet Earth, and basking in the gentle warmth of its late-afternoon sun. There is an unreality about it – now, at any rate. He listened in a thoughtful silence as birds sang and bickered overhead; insects bustled in the underbrush; and on his shoulder, a small human female sighed in deep contentment.

Prime shared the sentiment. This was a good day – a day he had set apart from all the rigors of his duties; a day on which he'd even shut down his chronometer. Now he sat on a hillside with his best human friend on his shoulder; and now was good. But what is 'now'? he wondered idly.

Time passed over them like the gentle breeze that carried with it far-off sounds of the life going on below them. Dogs barked, car engines revved and slowed, and children squealed with laughter. The air was heavy with the scents of sun-warmed earth and late-summer grasses. The ground was soft, hummocked with tufts of undergrowth and gopher-holes, and blanketed here and there with fallen leaves or brown pine-needles. And time flowed softly, too. It glided between them without haste, allowing them to savor its sweet sadness.

I'm not sure I believe in time. Prime's thoughts rolled languorously, like the low green hills and valleys around them. At least, he added to himself, not as we think we know it. Abstractedly, he raised a hand and slowly stroked his little friend with one delicate finger. She put her arms around his hand, and held it to her cheek; then let it go. And he could hear her smile.

"I don't believe in time," he said out loud. His voice by rights should have been startling in the otherwise quiescent woods. But somehow, now, it seemed all of a piece with the rest of the quiet afternoon. The birds, the bugs, the muffled sussurus of life and traffic down below – and Optimus Prime's rumbling baritone. It all fit in, somehow.

"Why not?" inquired his friend in some amusement. Her voice was low and easy, comfortable and kind. She spoke to him without pretense, without self-consciousness or pride. "You've been through quite a lot of it, I'd thought."

Prime laughed, and butted his head against her. "So they tell me. But little one," – another laugh rose up amid his words like marshmallow-scented smoke from a campfire – "If time runs forward all the same for every living creature, how is it that I feel I've known you from the moment I was forged?"

A blush crept up over the human's soft, pink cheeks. "Oh, Boss!" she said, not knowing how she should respond. "You're such a tease!"

"Sometimes," he agreed equably. "But not today. Not right this minute, anyway," he added with a wink. "I mean it, little one. You've worked your way into the deepest levels of my memories. When I remember my first posting, it's as if you're right there with me, telling me to make the most of what I couldn't know back then was such an easy life." He cupped her small frame in his hand. "And when I recall my darkest hours, once again you're there to comfort me. In triumph and in pain, it feels as though you're always there beside me, loving me, encouraging me, giving me a share of your strength." He turned to face her, nose-to-nose (she laid a delicate hand against his faceplate). "And yet your kind can only live for a small fraction of our lifespan. So how is it that time can have any bearing on our friendship?"

Her eyes widened. He felt the hiccup in her breath, and watched her, smiling, as she tried to format a reply.

"That is the nicest- But-" She looked into his somber face. "You don't really mean-?"

"I do." He put his finger to her lips. "So let's not spoil it with too much logic, all right?" His optics twinkled as he nuzzled his faceplate against her cheek. But then a chill of sorrow dimmed their clear blue light. "Besides," he murmured, "I want to believe I'll always have you with me. Not just until you... return into the Earth."

The only answer she could give him was to snuggle closer in against him. "I'm with you now," she reminded him.

"And I'm grateful, little one. More, perhaps, than you can ever know."

He winked at her, to reassure her that despite the momentary lapse into a melancholy vein, there was no cause to wallow in it. With the easy familiarity of long companionship, he drew her down and cupped her close against his chest. "Hold tight," he warned.

Optimus Prime fell back against the hillside with a hiss of cydraulics. The warm autumnal sun felt pleasant on his metal skin; and the soft earth at his back was more forgiving than the metal berths at home. He'd have a bit of trouble getting all the leaves and twigs out of his armor, but right now he didn't care.

"Listen," he murmured. "Today, time does not touch us. Listen," he repeated. "Maybe you'll feel it too."

Corax knew that Optimus had probably meant for her to listen to the sounds fluttering up from the world around them. But instead she lay with her cheek pressed against his flat chestplate. Now he was still, quiescent. But the pulmonary ebb and flow of Cybertronic life – the soft, vibrating hum of idling servos, the swishing circulation of fuel and oil, the electric crackle of alertness in him – meant that even in such stillness, Optimus was never really silent.

But now the sounds of Earth – so often heard that they were usually filtered out of her conscious awareness – began to mingle with the stranger sounds of her robotic friend. The rapid flutter of a bird's wings overhead played counterpoint to a series of clicks from somewhere around Prime's left shoulder. The wind's rustle between a maple's golden leaves was underscored by the deep thrumming of the Autobot Commander's spark. And in among them, Corax felt the rise and fall of her own breath, the quiet, steadfast throbbing of her heart.

I think I understand it now, she thought. It's true. There's no such thing as time.

"I love you, Optimus Prime," she whispered. "I always have."

"And I you, little one," he said. "Always."