Chapter 12

The Touch

"You never bend, you never break, you seem to know just what it takes, you're a fighter, it's in the blood, it's in the will, it's in the mighty hands of steel when you're standing your ground"

Megatron is an outlaw this day, the king of them. He alone had managed to end the Prime and he alone had managed to end the Autobots' last hope. He was the bad guy in the equation and he just didn't care anymore. He was actually proud of himself, taking a moment to 'pat himself on the back' as the humans say. It wasn't more than moment, though. Starscream was always waiting in the wings and Megatron didn't like the idea of Starscream on his throne. Not now, not ever.

From his perch on one of the intact pyramids, he surveyed the suddenly quiet battlefield and smirked to himself. This was his victory.

Until the boy stood up again and started running. Until the Prime sat up again and smiled. It was his victory until his so-called master fell at the servos of a newly resurrected Prime.

0o0

Let it be said that Jonathan Graham was not a coward. He also wasn't a fighter like the rest. So, of course he couldn't help but wonder why the hell he was stuck behind a wall, shooting at big alien robot bad guys.

Just a normal Saturday.

Which is the sad truth for him and the rest of the NEST team. He doesn't normally mind, he agreed to be stationed on Diego Garcia a year ago, but he had very rarely been in the middle of the action. He was a soldier though, so he would fight through it all. He wasn't a part of the Queen's army for nothing.

So he fought when he heard that Prime was dead, fought when they ended up in the hot and sandy end of bum-fuck nowhere, as his more crass American comrades would say. (A sentiment to which Graham whole-heartedly agreed. Secretly, of course, behind the facade of the prim and proper Englishman who loved fish and chips because chips were chips, no matter if everyone else called them fries). He fought when Sam died.

Actually, he had been fighting pretty much every moment but now when it was most needed.

He didn't think anyone would begrudge his inaction for the moment, though, because Sam had just come back to life. Even for Cybertronians, he was pretty sure that didn't happen every day. It was a miracle in the middle of this hellish battlefield. Poetic justice or something.

The whole battlefield slowed down for a minute and got freakishly silent as Sam stood up. It was almost like none of the Decepticons dared to shoot at the boy they had just watched their leader shoot down like a dog. And then Sam shoved some spiky piece of metal- it was beautiful in a twisted sort of way, all spikes and energy and something that smelled like death, even though Graham wasn't close enough to smell it- into the Prime's chest and everything threw itself into overdrive.

Graham thought that maybe the Cons understood that they were just destined to loose today so they put everything they had into that one last assault. An assault that ultimately failed.

They wouldn't go back to Diego Garcia completely victorious, but they would be able to go back. It was enough for him.

0o0

Feeling his skin heal and bones realign by themselves in the space of seconds was surreal and more than a little unsettling. Especially when his dislocated knee and broken thigh bone snapped back into place. He ignored it though, more interested in where he was.

Mikaela was sobbing beside him, screaming at the field medics to fucking do something and his parents were yelling and Bee was making this painful sounding keening noise. The sound of grief.

Was he dead?

Then he felt her hands on his face, her tears dripping into his cheeks.

Not dead, though he had been. At the Crossroads.

He opened his eyes; electric blue that faded into dark green in seconds, almost too fast to notice. Almost. He felt it and she saw it. Then he said what he had to, something that he should have said a long time ago, "I love you. I was in love with you."

"But not anymore," she finished for him with a teary smile. She understood.

He smiled back and curled his good hand around the Matrix of Leadership. He had earned it. As it recognized him and activated, the blue glow matched his eyes for a moment before they again bled back to green. He pushed up off the ground, ignoring the weakness in his newly healed leg in order to single-mindedly move towards the body of Optimus Prime.

Save him.

He pulled back the thick tarp and revealed the healed chassis of the mech. Sam climbed up and searched for the heavily protected clasp that led to his spark chamber. When he found it, he settled himself carefully on Optimus' broken windshield and held the Matrix above his head in both hands.

He's not dead yet.

Then Sam drove it into his spark chamber.

The All Spark flowed from his hands, the Matrix a simple conduit for the timeless energy, recalling the spark that resided there. Sam could feel a tie forming in the back of his mind, something like a red string of fate that tied them as family instead of lovers.

Brothers.

Save him.

Then his systems came back online and his optics glowed to life. And Optimus Prime smiled.

0o0

Pain. Searing pain in the middle his spark was the only think he felt for the longest time. It was something like a bond breaking and reforming over and over and over without end- until it did. Suddenly, the pain dissolved into a healing warmth and his chassis was good as new.

Why had it been damaged?

Then there was light again and time that moved normally, unlike… wherever he had been. He couldn't remember.

Why couldn't he remember?

What couldn't he remember?

The sound came next, a furious, familiar sound that was made up of hundreds of others. It was the grotesque sound of battle. The sound of screams and death and cannons firing. A broken lullaby.

And then a single sound hit his audials. "Optimus." He hadn't been called by that in so long (why not call me by my designation? Because you are Best Hunter) but maybe it was really only a moment ago. Time warped itself at the Crossroads.

The Crossroads... That's what he had forgotten. Apparently, Beta was right. Beta was always right.

His optics onlined next and smiled as he was met with terrified and relieved dark green eyes. The Steward, the one that would carry the orders he was to obey, the- "Boy. You returned for me."

The terror disappeared and relief reigned in those eyes and Optimus smiled at the look. "Of course I did. Brother," Sam said.

The word pounded in Optimus' processor. Brother. Samuel. Brother, he was hesitant of the word (the last mech that he had called such a thing went on to be some his worst enemy) but he knew it was right, somehow. So he nodded and offered Sam a servo, which the boy quickly stepped onto. Optimus set him down and stood, blowing out sand from his joints and privately marveling at the perfect new welds on his chassis. The gaping wound in his chassis was sealed again good as new and the shoulder that had been blasted mostly out of its joint was reset. Everything except his windshields, but they were always cracked.

Then he felt it, and odd warmth spinning in his chassis beside his spark. He moved a servo up to find the Matrix of Leadership stubbornly clinging to his chest plates. It floated above his hand when he pulled it free, whispering things and humming with pure energy. It was beautiful.

"A living Prime. I don't believe it!"

Optimus whipped his head around to look at an ancient warrior class Seeker. He was close to offlining and laughing all the way.

There was a ripping sound in the sky, the sound of a spacebridge opening. Again, Optimus turned toward the sound only to be rushed by a mech bigger than him. The Fallen grabbed for the Matrix, opening his mouth and blasting out the smell of motor oil- sickness- and a growl of "My Matrix..." Then Optimus was on the sandy ground and the Fallen was gone, warped away somewhere.

Optimus knew where. He could feel it.

But he was still so weak…

"He's turning on the machine. You've got to stop him, brother. You're the only one who can. Get up."

I know, he tried to say, but I'm so tired and weak. Too weak.

"Get up, Orion. Rest is for the dead. You are no longer among them." Another voice he knew from so long ago. A face he saw recently, but wasn't it just a processor glitch? A dying illusion?

No, he realized as he looked at the furious femme standing farther back near the soldiers. His processor could have never created such an image, not so perfectly. This was real. So, he tried to get up, tried to stand and follow his disgraced predecessor. Again, his weak knee joints refused to hold him up and he collapsed onto his abdomen. When was the last time he could not hold his own weight? He couldn't remember.

The dying mech coughed up energon and smiled again. "All my Decepticon life, I never did a thing worth doing until now. Optimus, take my parts and you will have a power you've never known. Fulfill your destiny," and then he was gone, holding his own dying spark in his servos.

Optimus knelt in the dust, shocked that this mech he had never met had just ripped his own spark out to help. Ratchet didn't stop to think, already directing his assistant Jolt to set up an EM field and transfer the parts to Optimus. The Autobots and the soldiers stood in a loose circle while parts flew, reconfiguring themselves on the Prime's frame as he crawled and slowly regained his balance. Finally, he stood over the Seeker's grayed frame and murmured a prayer of sorts for his spark. He backed away and faced them all with his battle mask drawn. "Let's roll," he said. Then, he was flying.

He took to it like an organic duck to water, like he was meant for flight. Maybe he would get a jet pack integrated into his systems after this. If there was an after.

There would be an after. He would make sure of it.

There was a small squadron of F-16s flying a head of him, every single one of them flying too fast to avoid the ring of sandstone chunks the Fallen was holding around the pyramid. The ancients could use a form of telekinesis that had fallen out of use rather quickly. The processor space necessary to control the levitation fields was enormous and Cybertronians soon found a better use for the space. While the Fallen had that advantage, it wasn't very useful. The levitation meant that he had no weapons and very little armor. That, coupled with his extreme age, made him an easy target.

Optimus flew through the ring of floating rock (it looked suspiciously like the meteor ring around this solar system), only sparing a moment to grieve for the humans who died on impact before he slammed into to two mechs on the top of the pyramid. There was no room for finesse or accuracy or anything but brutality, really. He just brought them tumbling down with him and did the only thing he could think of to stop the machine- he shot it.

Ironhide would be proud.

His back hit the stone of the pillars as the Harvester's control panels shattered like so much glass. He didn't have time to focus on it though, because the Fallen had grabbed hold of him in the next second. His spark spun faster as they grappled, pushing energon harder through his lines; it had been a while since he fought someone stronger than him. Old though he was, the Fallen was one of the original Primes and his strength was not to be underestimated.

They broke apart and squared off before clashing again, the Fallen's growls mixing into gravely words, "Die, like your brothers."

Optimus almost faltered at the heartless words before redoubling his efforts. "They were your brothers, too."

His spark skipped a pulse at the deep flash of remorse that was quickly replaced by harsh anger in the Fallen's optics. What had made him fall so far? Optimus caught the fist going for his face a pushed the mech back, shooting at his abdomen. The Fallen lay on the ground, growling louder at the pain.

The sound of screeching metal and a growl from Megatron drew his attention away for a second, long enough for Optimus to turn his head and see her. He did something stupid then; he underestimated his opponent and turned tail and ran. Strikezone would not be fighting Megatron. Not on his behalf, not now. "Strikezone!"

She turned her helm, lost focus for a nanosecond and Megatron took the opportunity. He grabbed the sword she had been swinging at his neck and spun her to face Optimus completely, wrenching her arm across her body and holding her sword against her own neck. Megatron gave a twisted smile full of serrated denta, his servo leaking energon from the razor sharp edges of Strikezone's sword but he ignored the pain and locked optics with Optimus as he leaned down to the strangely still femme in his grasp and whispered, "Time to say goodbye, sweetspark."

She moved then. She looked at Optimus and said, "My fight."

Then she proceeded to remind him why she was a Bladerunner and pulled a trick he hadn't seen in lifetimes.

Her sword heated up with energon and melted itself down and wrapped around the tires on her wrists to form spikes. Her other hand was already forming her other sword and when Megatron let go of her in surprise and pain, she spun and shoved it through his side.

The Decepticon leader sneered at the pain this time and pushed her back, charging his cannon. Optimus saw her move coming before her opponent did and prayed that the gambit worked. Strikezone ducked under his arm, grabbing his cannon just as it fired and aiming it at his head.

Megatron fired a super-heated plasma shot straight into the side of his own processor.

The recoil from the cannon and Megatron's automatic response to lash out at whatever caused him such pain had Strikezone flying through the air and slamming into a pillar. The whole thing came crashing down her and Megatron crawled away, shouting for Starscream.

A servo landed on Optimus' newly acquired jet pack before he could take a step forward. There was flaring pain in his back as the Fallen tore off his right afterburner and thruster. It was fleeting but stunned him long enough for the ex-Prime to get him on the ground. Optimus recovered quickly (because if losing limbs can't slow him down, losing a wing that wasn't properly integrated certainly wouldn't) and shoved the ancient mech off him.

They squared off again before the Fallen rushed him. He landed a glancing blow in Optimus' side and the smaller mech wasted no time in taking the huge staff of Cybertronium- a metal found only on Cybertron that all protoforms were made of. The metal of Primus. The use of it in weapons was prohibited. Even during the war when supplies were running low, they never sunk so low as to use that sacred metal. Why had this mech, once a Beloved of Primus, done it?

The humans said that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind and as Optimus ripped the thing out of the Fallen's (my Fallen brother) servos, he sent out a prayer to his sleeping god. Please forgive me, he thought, but I see no other way. This has to end.

So the staff of nearly unbreakable metal bent like tin in his servos (by the grace of Primus) and the Fallen fell to his knees. "You picked the wrong planet," Optimus said to his predecessor as he placed the bent staff under the mech's chin. "You betrayed your brothers and broke the First Law of the Primes," he worked as he spoke, following the guiding servos of something bigger than him. He ripped the staff upwards, taking the outer faceplates of the mech off with him. The Fallen stood with the pain, stumbling forward to a set of pillars and groaning lowly. He didn't fight back, though. He simply leaned on the pillars and turned his mangled face and still bright optics onto Optimus as he stalked forward. He placed a servo on the mech's spiked shoulder and the other on his back.

This was it. Was there even resignation in his optics? Gratefulness?

"Megatronus Prime," Optimus rumbled, a subsonic overlay to his voice that spoke an ancient Cybertronian dialect- the language of the Primes. He sounded like ringing brass bells. A death sentence handed down from some higher power wrapped in music. "You have been judged and found wanting." Then he reached through the unresisting mech's lightly armored back plates and gripped his dim and slowly spinning spark, crushing it.

As the light seeped from Megatronus Prime's optics, he pulled his arm back. "I rise," he said, that same bell-tone overlaying his voice, "you fall."

And Optimus Prime stood between the pillars, staring at the sun he had helped save, feeling victorious and guilty and shameful.

He was now Judge, Jury and Executioner.

He was now Guardian and Hunter.

He was Optimus the Prime now, and he was so very, very weary.

0o0

The Decepticons retreated quickly after that. None of them wanted to stay behind after their leader fled, wounded and humiliated.

All but one, that is.

They found him quickly, the Autobots, during the clean-up. He had hidden in the rubble near where Strikezone had fallen. She was alive, if unconscious, and she was the one they had been looking for. He was just an unexpected consolation prize. Or not.

"Ravage." Of course it was Ironhide that saw him first. Of course it was Ironhide that pointed a charged ion blaster at him. Of course he didn't kill Ravage. It was the reason why that was surprising.

Bumblebee. Ravage's greatest rival saved his life. After another failed attempt at killing the little Autobot.

"Don't do it, Ironhide. Ravage is alive because Strikezone saw fit to save him. I don't think killing him now would make her happy," the yellow bot said in a voice like grinding gears. The Weapons Master looked towards the unconscious femme Ratchet had pulled from the rubble and lowered his cannons.

They kept Ravage.

0o0

Sam was exhausted and jittery, coming down from the biggest adrenaline high of his life. He had managed to escape his parents and the human medic moments ago, all of them frantic and terrified and trying to figure out how he was alive.

Sam knew how. They didn't need to.

His eyes hurt and he thought his natural green was fading. He'd take the unnatural blue of the All Spark if it meant no more headaches. He knew he was completely fucking screwed in life, but he was kind of hoping for his existence to semi pain free.

Oddly enough, the All Spark seemed to be complying. Sort of.

His muscles twitched and electricity jumped from his fingers. His brain was... Not quite expanding, but adapting. His thought patterns were shifting to accommodate the new knowledge. Barring the random localized seizures (since they were mostly in his throat, he was fairly certain that he would be able to speak Cybertronian without pain after this), it was a relatively easy process. Relative, being the operative word.

He wandered aimlessly near the pyramid they had destroyed- Egypt probably hated them now- just walking and focusing on the new things being fed into his mind.

There was this heat wrapping around his heart, not exactly calming and not really burning, either. That was what he was following as he walked, the heat and the pull. He didn't know where he was going, didn't care until-

Optimus. His brother stood before him with slumped shoulders, just staring at the ruins of the pyramid and the Harvester. Brooding. That wouldn't do at all.

"Optimus," Sam said. When that didn't get a response, a different name fell from his lips, "Orion," and the huge mech stirred. Sam didn't wonder how he knew the name because it was his job as the Steward and the Voice to know things. This was just the beginning. Optimus looked down and automatically offered a servo to the boy. He lifted the human to optic level and studied him for a moment, judging him with those soul-searching blue optics. Sam wasn't worried, secure in what his brother would find in his eyes, so he wasn't surprised when Optimus nodded and deposited him on his shoulder. Together, they turned to look at the sun setting. A beautiful sight.

"She'll live," Sam said sometime after the sun had finally set. Optimus knew whom he meant. "She's your balance, your anchor. You're hers. She will live."

"Has Beta been telling you things?" he said, because he wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"No. But I know," and there was so much conviction there that Optimus couldn't go against the boy.

"The Matrix is here, too. Buried in the rubble. The two of you will be one again, whether you leave it here or not. You are its keeper," and again there was conviction in his voice, the kind would not take arguments. Optimus didn't bother.

"I will return for it when I have the strength to wield it," was all he said.

"Then it's time to go, little brother. They're looking for us."

"Little?" Optimus said in disbelief. He didn't even want to begin to count the many ways in which he was older.

"Little. Because I came back to life before you did. Now, mush."

When the rest of the Autobots found Sam and Optimus, they were still laughing.