Personnel Duty

ElitasLove:

Prime/Acree – spark, hurt/comfort with one unit post-RotF.

(Set immediately after RotF)

After returning to the collection of hangers that comprised their base after returning from Egypt, Ratchet had vanished into the Medbay with the most grievously wounded and not been seen since. The Medbay itself was partitioned into halves: critical and recovery, each operating off its own generator and soundproofed to one another.

Two of Arcee's units were still in critical with Ratchet some ten hours later, the third left sat on a berth on the other side of the wall waiting. The red-tinted femme had never experienced such separation from two thirds of her spark before, and thought repaired couldn't bring herself to move away from the Medbay and her sparksisters.

On the berth neighboring Arcee's, Optimus had just awoken from a deep recharge necessitated by the battle immediately following his resurrection. He presently felt fine in himself, the hole in his chassis closed by Jolt's charge using Jetfire's parts. Ratchet had left firm orders in his CPU to find when he onlined, though, so he'd stayed with the femme as the loan occupants of the 'ward'.

That she was frightened and miserable was obvious in her postures, but the Prime could feel hot lances of loneliness radiating from Arcee as well. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be cut off from large parts of his spark; couldn't wholly understand a spark split into three either, for that matter.

The Arcee units had never needed spark cleaning on the level that he was by default able to offer, managing and harmonizing one another unconsciously, so he had no experience with and understanding with their spark at all. It troubled him, now. He had a clear understanding of the unique ways individual bot's sparks ached, but not for Arcee. Now he was at something of a loss as to what to say.

"How are you faring?" he ultimately asked, sliding down from the berth to stand against it.

Arcee shifted to regard him, both surprised and touched by his soft inquiry. "I'll be fine when my sisters are back online. Right now, it's just…" She trailed off helplessly and shrugged. "I wish you could understand it."

"As do I," he murmured with softening optics. After a moment he approached the berth and came to sit next to her, close but not touching.

She sagged a little and leaned into him with shuttered optics, too drawn and weary to care about protocol and ceremony. The Prime was a naturally soothing presence when needed – it was part of his function.

"What are they like?"

She'd asked it softly and abruptly, almost surprising herself. When Optimus frowned down at her, she twisted to meet his gaze across the planes of his armor. "The merges. What does it feel like?"

It was not an unusual question, and Optimus could see how it would be a curiosity to those who had not experienced one. "I do not have a basis for comparison," he began carefully, suspecting that she was speaking in comparison with a normal spark merge. "And it is different from my side, but I understand that it is therapeutic and calming. It eases emotional wounds and quiets worries. It is also pleasurable in many of the same ways an ordinary spark merge is." He hesitated a moment, considering his words. "The only significant different is that my spark, as a Prime, temporarily overwhelms."

Arcee nodded a little against his side, concluding that that was essentially what she'd suspected based on what little she'd heard. Cleansing merges were not oft-spoken about, though because they were sacred rather than taboo. Resting against his chassis now, she had a gentle sense of it: the vastly more powerful spark setting a steady harmonic for hers to pulse in time with. Somehow, even though her two counterparts were offline, she felt less alone and hollow. It was a comfort – one that she would benefit from pursuing.

A frown pulled at her mouth as she tried to work out how one approached the Prime for a cleansing. Not that she could at the moment, though: he was obviously confined to the Medbay for a reason. It would be grossly selfish of her to even suggest a cleansing now.

"You're hurting," Optimus spoke gently, breaking the silence. He could feel her spark becoming receptive of his, trying to absorb the little peripheral energy that radiated through the gaps in his plates. "What can I do to help you?"

She almost said it, almost asked, but stopped herself with the images of Prime's battle-torn body flashing through her CPU. His corpse landing on the asphalt at the Base. Forcing the thoughts away she shook her head, smiling a little in weak reassurance. "Just having someone close is helping. My spark feels, incomplete when they're not here." And I'm terrified that they'll die and I'll feel like this forever, she added to herself, unable to suppress a shiver.

Optimus sensed the grief she was forcing aside and put a gentle hard to her back. "If I can help, I want to. It pains me to see you like this."

Arcee shook her head more vigorously, arms wrapping about herself. "I can't, Sir. You're damaged and need to rest. I'm just… letting this get to me." She rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to evade the question that had been plaguing her since the battle had ended: what if her spark sisters died and she was alone?

Frowning a little, Optimus mimicked her gesture and brushed his hand along her back. "Ratchet was confident as to their recovery on the ship, and he has a habit of working miracles."

She nodded a little, though the words were little comfort, at least in comparison to the proximity of his spark.

"What was it like to die?" The question had blurted out before she could help it, and now she froze with wide optics at her tactlessness.

Optimus brushed a hand across his optics whilst the other moved to more fully embrace her. He couldn't lie and say that it had been peaceful – it had been agony until the end, and the first few seconds of being resuscitated hadn't been much better. But he'd died impaled, his spark shattered alongside a hundred other searing wounds. The damaged Arcees were unconscious and in surgery. If they did die, they would do so quietly beneath Ratchet's gentle hands.

"I have only vague impression of it," he admitted, his gaze fixed on some indistinct point on the floor. "But, I believe it was the truest peace that I have ever known. There was no weariness or pain, no sense of responsibility or duty. Time had no meaning. It simply was."

Arcee had leaned more heavily into him as he'd spoken, absorbing his warm words as her spark was so readily drawing upon the external eddies of his. It wasn't the same as feeling her other units online and well, but it was a soothing balm on a sore wound.

"Prime, I…" She was certain that there was some kind of protocol or ceremony to this, but she had no idea what it was. The cleansing didn't have to be now – the Prime could accept her request and agree a later time for it, and that would be enough. "Would you show me, Sir?"

Optimus hummed his assent, smiling a little at the cautious question that he'd felt coming for several minutes. He shifted back a little on the berth though remained upright, and placed his hands on the padding at his sides. His spark pulsed a welcoming throb behind his chest plates, swelling with which energy to merge. The locks on his chassis came apart noticeably but he didn't move the parts, allowing her to become used to the increased level of energy seeping from him.

Clearly Arcee did not wish to use lines and ports to facilitate a cleansing, and he had no interest in imposing it. Interfacing was the easiest way to open a bot's spark, but as she was approaching him with such a clear and conscious need, her spark was already open and receptive.

Arcee turned and came up on her knees with a shy smile, gesturing for him to lie back so that she could better access his chassis. The differences in their frame sizes were significant but not disadvantageous, her slim hands fitting into spaces the Prime had not known were accessible. Out of circumstance he'd come to merge with vastly more mechs than femmes, and he enjoyed discovering these little differences on these rare occasions.

Straddling his slim waist, Arcee considered the thick armor with bright optics and began to guide it apart with her hands, watching how the segments moved and interlocked in complex, fluid patterns. At each barrier came away, the enveloping calm and warmth grew stronger, soothing her spark and relaxing her frame. Her own chassis opened from instinct alone, as easy motion that made her sigh she his spark energy fell straight into hers.

Led back and subtly holding the edges of the berth, Optimus forced his body to remain pliant beneath her hands. The first time for a bot new to cleansing merges would set the tone for any future cleanses, thus it had to be as positive an experience as possible. Most were uncertain and hovered anxiously until he guided them with assurances. Some were hasty with ignorance, wanting to impose on him as little as possible and trying to take from his spark rather than allowing the energy to flood them as it should. Though nervous, Arcee did not seem fearful setting the pace, her optics fixed on his chassis as her exposed spark spun and blossomed with anticipation.

Finally she lowered herself, bringing her slight body against his broad frame and allowing the outermost ribbons of their sparks to clutch at one another like grasping hands. Arcee tried to keep her optics online to watch, to see his spark consume hers with assurances, comfort and peace, and for instant saw the light in his chassis flare brilliantly before her systems sagged. He burned through her, flowed as liquid heat into the cold spaces left aching from her sparksisters' absence, and she gasped at the fundamental pleasure of it. It was not sensual or sexual, simply fulfilling and drawing with it a wash of peace.

Optimus took advantage of her small frame by lifting her enough to allow his chest plates to close after she'd offline, triggering hers to do the same. Laying her back over his armor, he laid one hand over her back and with the other traced the back of her helm with his fingers. Arcee hummed softly and shifted against him, her hand finding a seam in his chassis and latching gently onto it. Though not weary himself, Optimus shuttered his optics to follow her into recharge anyway. They would wait together.