Atonement
Chapter 11—Empty Spaces
Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. They officially belong to Hasbro and Takara. I'm taking them for a short spin.
Prowl sat in the rec room, ignoring his energon. All he really wanted to do was lay his head down and recharge, but ignoring his problems would not make them go away. Echo was doing better, so that was a weight off his shoulders. And saying he was willing to just try and get along with Springer was an outright lie. If he was honest, he could admit he'd been lying to himself the minute he'd started to doubt his conviction in how right he'd been when he decided to terminate his relationship with Springer. Well, they were both at fault in their own way. He didn't have enough faith in himself or the strength of their relationship, didn't think Springer was actually serious. He'd pushed Springer away, and the other mech didn't push back, at least not in the beginning.
Months of being so close, giving way to nothing, and Springer later trying to convince him they were good together. His idea? A spark merge to prove he was serious about being with Prowl, trying to build something together. Prowl knew that night had been Springer's last-ditch effort to try and prove he was serious, but the SIC saw it as an opportunity to get the triple changer out of his system once and for all. Look where that got them both—an unbreakable link in Echo.
Springer's jab at him during their discussion in the med bay earlier was a reflection of their few but explosive fights. The other mech accused him of not feeling anything. He did feel. He just chose not to exhibit his emotions often. Once, he thought caring was a liability. Considering the outcome of his relationship with Springer, the results proved him right. He was emotionally compromised, removed from duty until further notice and his personal life was a wreck.
And he wasn't including Echo. She wasn't one of his regrets. He was going to have to adapt and deal with the consequences of his actions. His life wasn't going to be the same, and Prowl was starting to realize that and accept it. He knew he was a little slower in that respect than Springer, but reality was starting to set in—he was a parent. He'd helped create another life, something he was now responsible for, and it was a staggering thought.
Through his long life, he could count the number of serious relationships and casual liaisons on both hands. He'd let himself get involved with Springer because it felt right. Springer was there for him and willing to listen during a time when others weren't. Not by choice, but because of circumstance. He spent weeks in the med bay enduring the various stages of repair for the injuries sustained during the Decepticon attack on his shuttle. Repairs were followed by recuperation out of the med bay, and that was when he hit bottom. Optimus was dead, there was a new Prime in his place, and he'd been replaced as second in command by Ultra Magnus. Intellectually, Prowl understood that and accepted it. Emotionally, he couldn't cope. He'd lost one of his closest friends, nearly died, lost his place and his way, and no one understood.
Springer understood. They'd never been what Prowl would call friends but that eventually changed during Springer's own extended stay in medical. It was a few months after the battle of Autobot City, and Springer had taken a nearly fatal shot intended for Rodimus Prime. He'd been laid up a few weeks, but his presence in the med bay nearly drove the patient and usually unflappable First Aid to the breaking point. It was during that time when Prowl hit bottom. He wasn't recharging, hardly left his quarters and wouldn't talk during his counseling sessions with the medic. There was no one left to talk with. Jazz was out of the picture, trying to help Kup reestablish order and security on Cybertron. Ratchet, Ironhide and Wheeljack were going through their own healing processes, but Prowl shut himself away. They all still had purpose, but he'd been replaced and, in his own mind, forgotten.
Then Springer broke through his shell, got him talking and interested in life again. And during that time, Prowl came to realize beneath the sarcastic, gruff exterior was an affable mech. And Springer understood. Hot Rod didn't die, but he no longer had the time for his friend. Prowl did have time, so they started spending more time together, and the rest was history. Over and done. But Prowl knew he now had several choices to make. Springer hadn't given up on him, or them. Prowl had. Could he forgive himself enough to try and start over with Springer?
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For once, Optimus Prime didn't mind working late. He had his feet up on his desk, high grade in one hand, a data pad in the other. The stack of unread reports on the desk was dwindling, and Optimus promised himself he'd finish the one in his hand and he was done. The fact Hot Rod was perched on one corner of the desk, sitting in what the humans called "Indian style" helped steel his resolve to finish. Hot Rod was diligently helping go through the data pads, dividing the high priority reports between the two of them and setting the less important ones aside for later. The younger Prime could produce results if he put his mind to it, but Optimus thought they could both use a break.
They were taking on Prowl's work load, which, neglected over the course of almost a week, was considerable. Jazz was helping, but he had his own duties to consider, so the Primes were taking care of it. Maybe Ultra Magnus could spare Kup for a few days to help, Optimus reflected, noticing Hot Rod was no longer looking at the data pad in his hands. Instead, the other Prime was staring. At him.
"Something amiss?" Optimus asked, setting down his data pad, and taking a sip of high grade.
"Nothing," Hot Rod said. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"I can't ever remember seeing you without your battle mask before," Hot Rod said.
"Not once?" Optimus said.
"No," Hot Rod answered.
"I rarely bare my face to others," Optimus said.
"I can see why," Hot Rod said. "It's a nice face."
"Nice" was an understatement. One of the most beautiful faces Hot Rod had ever seen, especially on another mech.
"Ultra Magnus always said my face was a distraction," Optimus said.
"Magnus needs his processor examined," Hot Rod said.
"Jealous?" Optimus asked.
"I can't be jealous of the past," Hot Rod said. "If he chose to take up where you two left off. . ."
Optimus stood, putting his hands on the other mech's shoulders, pressing a kiss to the crest on Hot Rod's helm. "You and I would not have the opportunity that has been placed before us," the Prime finished. "Hot Rod, I think we're done here for the night. We can finish going through these reports tomorrow, and I want to check in on Prowl, and maybe you should go spend some time with Springer before you turn in."
"Good idea," Hot Rod said, getting down from the desk.
"You don't have to work yourself to exhaustion," Optimus said.
"Sure," Hot Rod said.
"We need to set a few things straight between us," Optimus said, hoping Hot Rod got his meaning. They were going to have to try and find a balance between their duties and personal lives. Since the evening they'd admitted their feelings for each other a few days before, they'd done nothing but work. No chance to just talk things out.
"Let me know when you find the time," Hot Rod said, turning to go.
"Tomorrow, after shift. My quarters," Optimus said. "I'll take the meeting with Marissa tomorrow, if you'll sit in on the briefing with the engineering section in the morning."
"I'll take Wheeljack, Hoist and Grapple over the infighting with the EDC," Hot Rod said. "You're a better diplomat than I'll ever be."
"I've learned patience," Optimus said.
"One of your many virtues," Hot Rod said, grinning.
"Give me a chance and I'll show you just how unvirtuous I can be," Optimus said.
"Is that a promise?" Hot Rod asked.
"Yes," Optimus said.
"I hope that's not the high grade talking," Hot Rod said.
"It's not," Optimus said, wrapping his arms around Hot Rod for a moment. "See you tomorrow."
"Yeah," Hot Rod said, loathe to break the embrace. "Good night."
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