Author's note:
This story is the third and final installment of the tale that began in our fic "Kinship" and was continued in our fic "The Tie That Binds." If you haven't already read those, I suggest you read them first, or this story will make little sense. It will be helpful if you've read "Introductions: Annabelle Lennox" and "Victory," but this story should still be understandable if you haven't read them.
If it's been a while since you've read "Kinship" and "The Tie That Binds," those two stories established that Sam is a Prime (since he was able to use the Matrix of Leadership to reignite Optimus) and, since all Primes are brothers, Sam and Optimus share a brother bond. As part of exploring what being brothers means for them, they also learned that the All Spark is critically low on power (since it hasn't been replenished from a star since before the time of The Fallen and it was probably was considered low on power then). It falls to them as the Primes to build another solar harvester and transport it to a star without life orbiting it so that the star can be harvested and "feed" the All Spark. Hopefully that will jog your memory.
If you're still reading, thanks for sticking with us, and we hope you enjoy!
Prologue: Kin
"Blood is thicker than water." ~ German proverb (variant attested in print as early as the 12th Century)
"Blood, as all men know, than water's thicker. But water's wider, thank the Lord, than blood." ~ Aldous Huxley
Mikaela Baines Witwicky reclined in the hospital bed, still a bit worn out after six and a half hours of labor but feeling much better after a two-hour nap.
Her husband had been discreetly introduced to international leaders just over a year ago as a lobbyist for the alien robots, and he had been trying to work with the world's circles of power ever since. He was supposed to leave for a summit at The Hague on Sunday, the day before their firstborn's due date, so she had pestered her doctor into inducing labor on Friday and made all appropriate preparations, right down to inviting friends and family to visit town for the blessed event.
Her water broke on the Tuesday before.
Samuel James Witwicky hovered over her shoulder, looking down into the wonder-wide blue eyes of their baby, a son. "He has your mouth," he quietly said.
The nurse who was assigned to help them fill out the post-partum paperwork – birth certificate, Social Security card application, immunizations – paused when she saw the infant's name. "I just want to make sure I have your son's name spelled correctly. For the first name, D-A-E-M-O-N. As in, your email didn't get through mailer-demon?"
"No," Sam answered, looking slightly annoyed. "It's pronounced 'DAY-mun.' As in the ancient Greek version of the djinn." At the nurse's blank expression, he added, "You know, like genies? Powerful supernatural beings who hide themselves from humanity? It's a traditional Muslim belief."
"Geek," Mikaela affectionately murmured.
The nurse nodded, mentally brushing aside the question of what ancient Greek myths had to do with Muslim beliefs and email. After all, she'd seen odder given names in her twenty years in the maternity ward, though Daemon's middle name took the cake. "And his second given name is spelled O-P-T-I-M-U-S, correct?"
Sam smiled and nodded to the tall, just-past-middle-age cowboy standing in a small knot of friends who were there to visit. "It's a family name."
"Latin," the cowboy added, his regal voice a strange contrast with his casual shrug.
In the background, the new mother whispered to another visitor. "I'm so sorry about your seat, 'Bee."
The visitor gave her an amiable smile. His phone played a series of clips. "It's not like you planned ...for your water to break while...you were riding shotgun. Little... Daemon... is totally worth it."
"Yeah," grumbled the most muscle-bound visitor, who was even taller than the cowboy. "Don't sweat it. It's not like he's gonna notice a little extra organic goo oozing all over the place."
"Wheelie," Mikaela interrupted him with a reproving look. "You know what I want?"
"Peace and quiet?" he ventured.
"A bag of Gardetto's. Serious cravings here."
The figure who answered to "Wheelie" perked up a little at that and walked out into the hallway, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be right back!"
Meanwhile, in the back of his processors (which were currently parked in the hospital's visitor lot), Optimus ignored Ratchet's increasingly shrill demands for a full scan of the baby. He also did his best to ignore the comms from Ironhide, who was as restless as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to be there to protect the Witwicky family while they were so vulnerable. Since he was Sam's brother, he'd been given family leave and permission to fly directly to DC as fast as his jets could carry him. The rest of the 'bots stationed on Diego Garcia would just have to wait their turn.
The only female visitor – who introduced herself as Rebecca Segretti, but who was known in NEST files as the Autobot femme Radio Flyer – was also the only one who bothered to respond to the comms, uploading and passing around vids and stills of the baby and discretely doing her best to oblige Ratchet.
/Optimus,/ Prowl finally came through on a command channel. /He's denying it, but I am 99.99% certain Jolt has a betting pool regarding the delivery date and…/
/Is the base on fire?/ Optimus wearily asked, rubbing his forehead.
/No…/
/Then it can wait until I've left the hospital,/ Optimus curtly answered. /We're going into radio silence for the next half-hour./
/Yes, sir,/ Prowl replied.
Optimus turned his attention to the infant, sensing even from this distance how soft and vulnerable he was, and not just to injury by Decepticons. It was a heavy load to bear the hopes of others – he knew this well – and the responsibility of leadership was even weightier. How could he lay such burdens on those frail newborn shoulders? For the first time, he was grateful for the military men who had staunchly refused to grant young children security clearance to know about the Autobots. Daemon and any other children Sam and Mikaela might have were covered under the same treaty as Annabelle Lennox – they could know nothing of this until they turned fifteen. Daemon would be sheltered for a while yet, protected from the endless War.
And yet Optimus knew the Autobots already had high hopes for the son of Samuel Prime. He had high hopes of his own that were entirely selfish.
It was possible that Sam's status as his brother Prime was an anomaly, something unique that would not be passed on to his children. It was also possible that only some or one of Sam's children would be a Prime. But it was also possible that this firstborn son would inherit everything his father had. That was Optimus' selfish hope. No one could replace Sam in Optimus' spark, but if Daemon were also a Prime, Optimus would not be left alone again when Sam inevitably died. The son of his brother might also share the brother bond. If he were a Prime.
Optimus looked up from his musings to see Mikaela's hard eyes watching him. He shared no bond with her, but she was the mate of his brother and knew him well. Judging by her expression, she guessed Optimus' thoughts, and she was not happy about them. He did not blame her, honestly. If he had ever been blessed with offspring, Optimus would not have wished such heavy burdens on them. But wishes were meaningless – it was one's choices that revealed one's fate. "He is so innocent," Optimus said softly to the new mother. "A blank slate, as they say."
Meaning Optimus would lay no claim on the child yet. Reassured, Mikaela kissed her newborn's brow and then stretched out her cradling arms to Optimus. "Would you like to hold your nephew?"
Optimus recognized her gesture for what it was – surrendering her son to the future, to whatever fate might be hidden in the organic soul of the child. He solemnly nodded his head and took the babe into his hands, cuddling him against his chest. "Sleep, son of my brother," he murmured, enthralled by the warm, blue-eyed bundle he held. "You are cherished and safe. Dream your own dreams."