Atonement
Chapter 17—Little better than yesterday
Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. They officially belong to Hasbro and Takara. I'm taking them for a short spin.
Optimus Prime woke, not surprised to find himself in his berth. He remembered Ratchet staying with him, and assumed the frame curled next to his own was the medic. He raised himself up slightly, turning on his side, seeing it was Hot Rod, who woke at the movement.
"How long have you been here?" Optimus asked.
"A couple of hours," Hot Rod said. "Ratched called me and suggested I stay with you, so here I am."
"I'm grateful you're here," Optimus said. "I. . .I was just reminded of something from the past today."
"Definitely not a good memory," Hot Rod said.
"No," Optimus said.
"I won't ask, because Ratchet said not to push," Hot Rod said.
"It's good you're following his advice," Optimus said. "Maybe someday I'll tell you, if you'll share with me what Ratchet thinks I need to know."
Hot Rod threw an arm across his middle, moving to lay his head on the bigger mech's chest. The thrum of the other Prime's engine and pulse of his spark were comforting. Maybe it was time to come clean. The humans said a burden shared was a burden halved, and he'd been carrying it around a while. Others might not consider it much of an issue, but the fear and anger he felt was eating away at him.
"Ratchet thinks if I talk about it, I'll feel better, and I should talk to someone I trust," Hot Rod said. "You know about he nightmares and fluxes I was having, thanks to what happened with Galvatron. One night, on Cybertron, it wasn't long after the representatives from the Antar colony reestablished contact because they heard the war was over. We had a reception to welcome them, and I got a little overcharged toward the end, and accompanied one of their enforcers back to his quarters. I don't know what I was thinking. . .but we ended up in the berth, and I don't remember much else besides feeling his hands on my throat, and I freaked. I mean full-on, weapons drawn, screaming for Galvatron to get away from me. I threw him into the wall, and that's how they found us. I'm just lucky the Antar ambassador is one of the most tactful mechs I've ever met. They subdued me, and called First Aid. Now you know why I haven't tried to be. . .close. . .to anyone since."
Optimus was quiet, his grip on Hot Rod tightened.
"Were you afraid of interfacing before?" he asked.
"No," Hot Rod said. "You can't really be afraid of something you've never done."
Then it clicked. OK, Optimus thought. No wonder Ratchet hit him with a wrench. And he was still at a loss for something to say, but Hot Rod saved him from having to say anything.
"Enough with the chick flick stuff," he said. "Can't we just get some rest?"
"Indeed," Optimus murmured.
88888
Ratchet's morning was going well. No irate Primes charging into his office, or stupid injuries. Yet. But First Aid was acting shifty, and Wheeljack was avoiding him. He was going to drag it out of his bond mates later, turning his thoughts to the matter at hand. Prowl was feeding Echo, and the medic finished his scans of Springer.
"Springer, your spark resonance is back to normal, and your internals are healing nicely," Ratchet said. "I'm releasing you from the med bay, but Echo stays."
"Which means so do I," Springer said.
"I figured as much," the medic said. "Except I do have a suggestion—get out of here for a few hours. Go find Hot Rod, take a drive together. Don't overdo it. I want you to try and get back to a little normalcy. Prowl can spend some quality time with Echo without having to worry about both of you. I'm trusting you, so don't abuse that trust."
"Seriously?" Springer said, looking at Prowl for support.
"Go. Now. Three or four hours. Then you get your aft back here to Prowl and your kid," Ratchet said.
Springer leaned over, placing a peck on his daughter's forehead, and squeezed Prowl's shoulder before heading out of the med bay. He felt better than he had in ages.
88888
The urgent comm from Blaster roused Optimus from recharge, along with Hot Rod. The communications expert apologized for waking both Primes, shooting Optimus a quizzical look because of Hot Rod's presence, but he ignored it. Optimus read the data pad Blaster gave him, frowning, before handing it back, and Blaster took that as his sign to leave.
"Hot Rod, I have to go. My presence is required on Cybertron," Optimus said, heading out into the corridor.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I'll fill you in when I return," Optimus said. "Take care of things here. Please."
His entreaty was followed by the retraction of his battle mask, and a fervent kiss that sent Hot Rod grasping for the wall to hold himself up, watching Optimus go, and Springer walking up, looking confused.
"What in the Pit was that all about?" Springer asked.
"I have no idea," Hot Rod said.
"Prime walking away, or that protocol-breaking public display off affection?" Springer said.
"Optimus leaving," Hot Rod said, gathering his wits. "I don't know what's going on. Hey, wait—what are you doing out of the med bay?"
"Ratchet gave me clearance to leave," Springer said. "I have a few hours to myself. Want to go for a drive?"
"You have no idea," Hot Rod said, linking arms with his friend, pulling him down the corridor.