Redline
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Part 12
By the time they had arrived back at NEST, the sun had sunk well under the horizon. The sky to the east held only the faintest line of bright orange, which glowed against the Peterbilt's custom flames making them appear to burn brightly and flicker almost like real ones. The heavy chrome visor, endlessly tall stacks and pristine windshield were all smooth sheets of silver, reflecting just as impressively as ever under the first winking stars of the evening as the truck rolled along slowly, dawdling.
It was the stars that she watched, shining like little, twinkling holes cut in periwinkle-blue; she tried to make out patterns, catching only the faintest outline of the big dipper. When she had been a little girl, Cal used to tell her to choose one and make a wish for something that she hoped to someday have come true. Drawn to the brightest star hovering directly due-west of their position, Mikaela let her eyes slide closed as she breathed in the scent of the world that was wafting through the Peterbilt's open windows—the weirdly addicting odour of cooling asphalt mingled with the potent smell of drying sage and dust—and wished that someday, she would see Optimus Prime again.
That was the most beautiful thing about a wish, that it was private; a personal, intrinsic desire laid bare to no one but the wisher themselves, unless the wisher should choose to divulge the content. And so, such things had a knack for being unbiased and honest beyond all else, an unwitnessed expression of the best-kept secrets of someone's soul—and it was her soul that wanted him, in that moment, more than anybody.
The thrill of him, the smell of him. It was so much more addicting than she could ever have imagined and briefly, images of them, together, passed through her mind—whether it was because of the aftermath of the day's events or something else, she did not know.
She fantasized about him—him charging into battle, blue eyes blazing with white hot rage. Him, towering over her, his magnificent body ever so solid and stoic and safe. And her, with him—her being the only human alive who lived to tell the tale of his momentary weakness, the only one capable of bringing the Autobot leader to his knees. Their shared experience had been so lovely and intimate and sweet, and it made her imagine more; what would it be like, to enter a real, sexual relationship with him?
"You know," Mikaela said finally, her heart hammering in her throat at the thoughts that were passing through her mind, her eyes staring unseeingly out the windscreen as the Peterbilt meandered, ever-so-slowly, toward the airstrip. "Cal used to tell me, as a kid… if you make a wish on the first star in the night sky, it'll come true."
When Optimus Prime answered her, his voice was so level and calm she felt some of her inner turmoil and excitement melting away into serenity on the spot. "And have you made one?" he asked.
Mikaela remained silent, thinking deeply. It was so hard to make sense of everything. It was so confusing, having found herself in a situation that was effectively tearing her heart in two—on one hand, she loved Sam deeper than anyone, and she had shared more hurt and been through more battles with him than anybody else alive. But on the other, her newfound feelings toward Optimus were so disconcerting and complex and powerful that she knew it was going to take a long time for her to sort them out.
A long time, in which she knew it would be better for them to go their separate ways, at least for now—she had a life at home, with Sam, just as he did at NEST, with the Autobots. They both had important roles to play in those lives, and weighty responsibilities—there was, simply put, no alternative way for the two of them to run off together, or something unreasonably stupid. Not now—not yet—at any rate.
And so, her answer to the Autobot's question came to her very slowly and very painfully. "I did," she said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet and serious as she debated whether or not she should tell him what her heart wanted at all. "…I wished that we could do this again someday," she told him sadly.
The cab of the truck was so silent that she could hear the rough peeling of the fresh pavement sticking to the bottom of the Peterbilt's tires as he drove. The silence was heavy, the significance of her words hanging in the air between them—she felt the rumble of the Peterbilt's engine and the gentle swaying of the truck and she knew that he, too, was recalling how she'd refused to let go of his steering wheel the entire ride back. The sensation of his gear stick knob vibrating under the palm of her hand was still fresh, as was the thrill of the endless expanse of asphalt rolling under his tires. It had been hot and blazing and full of some kind of weird chemistry that neither of them could explain or wanted to let go of, exactly.
Breathing in deeply, she drifted away in his heavy, masculine-mechanical scent. How she'd miss this, this smell, and him—would a shower wash it all away? Or would it cling to her so strongly that she'd notice him on her for weeks?
And how could she find satisfaction, driving another vehicle after these events—even the heady vibration and quick acceleration of her motorbike, Valour, so amazing not one day ago, could now never compare with the rush and sex appeal of the rumbling Peterbilt and break-neck-speed sex that went along with it. It was hot and reckless and oh-so-good and life was going to be so boring without him.
"Do not be sad, Mikaela," said Optimus finally, and she felt the seatbelt restrict across her chest briefly in a comforting hug. "But I think that, for the time being, we have reached a crossroads; we are at war, and your race needs me, just as Sam needs you. Until the day comes where that is no longer true, you must be there for him—just as I must be there for my Autobots, as it is my duty to lead them into battle."
Mikaela sighed deeply, taking only a moment to marvel at just how noble the semi had sounded. "I know," she muttered.
"I apologize again." His rumbling voice was heavy, and through the window she watched with reluctance as the Autobot Hangar loomed ever-closer, its bay doors thrown wide as its cheerful light spilled out onto the darkening airstrip. "For it is not the way of a Prime to seduce a young femme whose spark—soul—belongs to another. I believed that I, above all, was capable of resisting the desires that the delicate touch of such a wholesome soul is able to bring out in my kind—but I was wrong. Even a Prime has a weakness, Mikaela."
Mikaela felt her stomach somersault at these last words. "Your weakness is me?" she asked, astounded.
"It would seem so."
The gravity of his confession had made her mouth dry. "G-gosh, Optimus…" she stammered, blushing.
Darkness had almost fully fallen by the time the pair had reached the large, flat space of blacktop just outside of the Autobots' home. Optimus parked and cut the engine and over the hiss of his brakes she could hear the merry sounds of their comrades' laughter wafting through the open bay doors, and even as she watched she saw Bee trying to free himself from the group so that he could come get Mikaela, but Sideswipe and Ironhide wouldn't let him leave.
The sight of something so normal happening seemed so odd after such a wild day. It was hard to remember that things like Bee's silly personality and her warm, comfortable bed back at Cal's place still existed. "Looks like they're having fun," she said, smirking in spite of herself.
Optimus chuckled. "Yes, I think they are."
She watched Bee hit Sideswipe on the arm, gesturing to the awaiting semi-truck, and her nerves flopped unpleasantly as she thought of what Bee would say if he knew what it was the semi and the human girl had actually been up to. Bee wasn't the kind of person who would take lightly to such a thing—as most of the 'bots were, he was very loyal. Especially to Sam. "You won't tell them, will you?" she asked Optimus, suddenly stern as worry pooled in the pit of her stomach. "About what—uh, about what happened… earlier… right?"
"I will not, if that is what you wish," he said, just as calmly as before, but Mikaela still felt obligated to reassure him that her request had not been out of anger or shame in what they'd done. She wanted to protect the relationship she had with the other Autobots very much and was concerned that if they found out, they would blame her for seducing their boss on purpose, or something. It was a horrible thought, and for some reason, she just couldn't see that going over too well with all of them… "Please don't—I mean," she started to explain. "It's not that I didn't like what happened, it's just… me still being with Sam, and all… I don't think it's a good idea, to uh—"
"I understand," he rumbled over her, before adding in his most reassuring voice yet, "You have my word." She knew immediately that she did.
That was a very beautiful thing about the Autobot leader, thought Mikaela. It was not only his incredibly deep, soothing voice that made him feel undeniably trustworthy, but nothing less than nearly every single one of Optimus Prime's traits that actually made him so. And with this power, he set her mind at ease much better than any human or Autobot in the entire existence of Earth could have, and she felt her middle unclench involuntarily.
In the distance, she saw that Bumblebee had transformed—the black-and-yellow Camaro was coasting slowly toward them, flicking on his headlights as he went. The dark expanse of asphalt in front of them was bathed in white light as the Camaro's horn beeped twice in greeting—Mikaela waved at him enthusiastically out of the Peterbilt's window, just as she felt Optimus undo her seatbelt. It was a silent cue for her to start saying farewell.
All she had time to do was to plant a single, swift kiss on top of the steering wheel as stealthily as she could before she was opening the door and stepping out of the cab. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she'd seen the rig's highbeams flash on once of their own accord—whether in response to her kiss or as a silent greeting for the Camaro or both, she did not know.
It was no sooner than she'd jumped off of the Peterbilt's last step than she'd heard him transform behind her. She turned around in time to see the huge shape of the Autobot leader straighten, his true form lit by the light streaming onto the tarmac from the Hangar and Bee's white LED headlights. Craning her neck to look up at him, Mikaela's eyes widened, taking in the way his armour reflected like one-million little shining stars blinking back at her as he stood, ever so tall and regal and important—
"Optimus?" she asked before she could think twice, her voice so quiet that she was momentarily worried that it wouldn't make it up to the tall 'bot's aural sensors.
"Yes, Mikaela?"
She had looked straight into his optics as he spoke, and she thought she had seen something crackling behind them, like some kind of residual energy from his spark. "Another time, right?" she asked as vaguely as she could, watching him closely.
She was sure of it, this time—his optics had flashed brightly and she felt the blazing energy behind them burn straight into her own eyes.
"Another time," he echoed, his resonating voice vibrating the very air molecules around them as it penetrated straight into her heart.
He then looked up to the sky, and she followed his gaze, suddenly overwhelmingly conscious of just how crushingly huge the near-infinite mass above them was. The weight of everything that came along with the knowledge of what existed up there was heavy on her—the lives and the sparks of so many 'bots and the legacy of their ruined planet, Cybertron—and she felt herself become dizzy with the significance of it all.
Staggering slightly, she felt her way over to Bee. "'Bye, Optimus," she said finally, grinning wistfully as she patted the Camaro affectionately on the hood. Bee swung the driver's door open for her with a happy wobble. "And thanks again!"
"You are very welcome." As she looked back, she saw the Autobot leader transform one last time, back into the majestic Peterbilt—his blue accessory lights blazed neon-azure just as brightly as his optics had. The truck's engine shuddered into life with the now-very-familiar diesel growl, and Mikaela couldn't help but smile with butterflies as she slid into Bee's driver's seat and habitually slung the Camaro's seatbelt over her shoulder.
"So, how'd it go, babe?" Bee asked her, cheeky over the radio.
"Oh, you know," shrugged Mikaela, grinning as casually as she could while still eyeing the Peterbilt's gorgeous form through the windscreen. "About as much fun as you'd imagine hanging out with a grumpy old semi-truck all afternoon would be. How'd things go for you?"
"Same-old," Bee laughed back at her before emitting a sad little whine. "I got some bad news, though, Mickey. I ain't gonna be in town for your birthday."
"Aww," she hummed back, simultaneously disappointed and vaguely surprised at the same time. Having half-forgotten the entire reason why Bee had brought her out here to visit the Autobots in the first place, with a jolt she remembered that in only a weeks' time, she was facing a weekend entirely in Sam's company.
Yikes, she thought.
"Yeah," continued Bee. "Got'a few more raids to-do. Lotsa 'Cons 'round, and now they're saying they want'a send us to China next month. Somethin' about Shanghai… "
But Mikaela wasn't listening. As the evening deepened, it made the world around her feel unreal—while the infinite cosmos stretched out forever above them, it made her so aware of just how tiny she was and how relatively huge the roll she'd played in the universe's recent events really was.
It could be so confusing—half of her just wanted to be normal, but the other half could not rest, now that it had discovered the world of the Autobots and the existence of the war they waged on the Decepticons. How could she truly go back to her life, now that she knew about how much was out there?
A laugh track played through the radio just as Bee's engine turned over, startling her out of her revere. The Peterbilt's headlights turned on in front of them and Mikaela was momentarily dazzled by the vibrant display. Taking this as an invitation, Bee lurched forward and revved, spinning into a beautifully-controlled drift as he did two full donuts around the parked semi, tires screeching. Mikaela felt laughter bubble up inside of her despite how solemn she felt and she screamed joyfully, rolling down the window to breathe the tantalizing scent of hot sage and asphalt.
She waved at Optimus one last time; then, Bee swerved sharply and sped off toward the horizon, honking once more in goodbye—Mikaela watched the semi in the rearview as a loud double-blast of the rig's air horn echoed endlessly through the muggy evening air. Two twin trails of burning-red tail lights and a line of dust were the only things the yellow Camaro left behind on the tarmac.
And it was through the very last vestiges of light that the two home-bound companions sped toward the NEST main gate; watched only by a solitary, custom Peterbilt truck. Optimus Prime stayed there, alone, forgetting that he was still in alt-mode long past when they had disappeared from sight—he stayed there so long that the sky overhead had turned from indigo into inky black and the few stars blossomed into trillions and the milky way arched overhead in a long, hazy line, thinking to himself—
He thought about Bumblebee and Sam and Mikaela, and all of the things that were in store for them all, the good and the bad—
He thought about the Decepticons, and how they were living through what he had hoped was no more than the last wave of the fight, but what was more likely only a brief calm before another inevitable bout of war—
And he thought about the sheer, wholesome beauty of planet Earth, the sun and the stars and the innocence of its good people, and about how he was now the only leader who could protect them from the coming storm—
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THE END
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