Within these Arms

''Actions speak louder than words.''

Mark Twain

Sometimes what we don't say to the ones we care for, and love says more than words ever could.

Optimus is visibly shaken and distraught following a particular mission. Orianna offers wordless comfort to the Autobot leader as he struggles to come to terms with what has happened.

A short fic focusing on my OC – Orianna Connors – and Optimus Prime (based on Bayverse Prime).

I placed the book down on the rustic looking coffee table before me and glanced anxiously at the clock.

He was late.

Surging to my feet, I began to pace about the living room, arms folded firmly across my chest, teeth worrying my lower lip. This was not the first time, nor the second time he was late. In fact, I had lost track of the number of times he was late.

I froze as the distant echo of heavy footsteps travelled down the hallway – and continued past my door. An audible huff escaped pursed lips as I resumed my frantic pacing. Running a hand through a long, black mane of hair, I exhaled my frustration, releasing it into the silent embrace of the living room.

It was par for the course to be left waiting when your other half was in the military. Even more so when he happened to be the Commander of his unit of soldiers. There was always last-minute intel to review, reports to sign off on and file, the occasional disciplinary action to hand out and follow up, and endless meetings – always tedious, endless meetings to attend!

Brown and gold flecked eyes that had been sweeping the room were suddenly drawn to the silver photo frame that sat on the bookshelf. I sighed out loud and placed my hands in the pockets of faded denim jeans. An image of us together, sitting on our beach, stared back at me and I felt the corners of my lips curve into a nostalgic smile.

A pair of unearthly, bright blue eyes peered back at me, seeming to hold my gaze from across the room. In the photo I was laughing, leaning against a broad chest, my head turned to smile up at the handsome man with short, wavy black hair and salt and pepper temples.

The smallest of smiles played on his lips as he held me close, staring at the camera. The recollection of those strong muscled arms wrapped protectively around me sent a shiver down my spine and I glanced nervously at the clock once more.

He was very late.

I wrapped my arms about myself desperate to recall and feel that sense of safety and security that only he seemed to be able to provide. Walking back over to the over-sized tan leather lounge, I flopped back down amongst the cushions and drew my knee up before me.

As I reached for the book once more, I heard what I had been desperately waiting for. The unmistakable sound of a powerful truck engine rumbling as it turned down our street. Relief and anger washed over me in unison at the hiss of brakes and the sound of the engine being silenced.

Moments later, heavy footsteps and the sound of keys jangling as they slid into the lock, sent me rocketing to my feet. I raced towards the door, a frown on my face and a biting comment perched on the tip of my tongue like a coiled cobra.

As the door swung open and the powerful frame of the one who held my heart so firmly in his own came into view, the words died on my lips.

Eyes that usually shone so brightly were dull and tired, filled with shadows of a terrible pain that seemed to cling to the fine wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. Broad shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world rested upon them, as he soundlessly placed his keys on the hall table and closed the door behind him.

A large hand was brought up to cover his face as the other reached out and was placed on the door frame, as if he might fall to his knees at any moment. The tall, powerful figure seemed to curl slowly inward upon himself. Crumbling, as it were, like a sandstone pillar besieged by unrelenting waves.

My heart broke as I swiftly covered the distance between us without a word. Coming to stand beside him, I placed a hand on his back and the other on his arm as I laid my head against his shoulder. The smallest of sobs escaped his lips, and I felt the tremor of barely contained grief and pain under my palm.

I kissed his arm and began to rub large soothing circles over his back. Sinews and muscles tensed under tanned skin as he drew in soundless gasps of unnecessary air. So much pain. So much sorrow. Tears stung my own eyes as I tried to shoulder his pain, take his burden up as my own.

But I would not speak.

I would not ask what had happened. In his own time, in his own way, he would talk. But not now. Now was not the time for words.

Slowly, he removed his hand from his face and leaned into my touch. His head turned, his forehead seeking my own as he bent towards me. I raised a hand to his face; the feel of his stubbled cheek tickled my fingers as I slid my hand behind his head and anchored him firmly to me.

We stood there for a moment before I reached my other hand up and gently tugged on the hand that was placed on the door frame, bidding him to follow me. Quietly, he relented. I guided him towards the lounge, sinking down slowly onto the deep cushions, I pulled him down with me, urging him to nestle in before me. He complied silently and the moment he sat, I wrapped my arms around his massive chest, pulling him firmly and protectively towards me.

He lay his head back against me, his hands reaching out to grab hold of my arms, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my upper arms with bruising force. But I would not complain. He needed this and I would willingly give him anything he needed. I would be anything he needed, just as he would do and be for me and had done – so many times before.

I lowered my chin onto his head and gently kissed his tousled hair as I released a tremulous breath. The warm body pressed against me turned within my arms and burrowed into my chest, desperately seeking solace from whatever demons now hunted it.

My gaze was drawn once more to the silver photo frame on the bookshelf. I closed my eyes, squeezing my arms tighter still in a bid to let him feel the safety and protection he so often gave me. Laying my head on his shoulder, I allowed a single tear to slide down my cheek as the sound of a muffled sob drifted up to me.

''Sentinel.''

His voice was distant, filled with memory. The name hung in the air between us as I raised my hand and ran it through his thick waves of hair. I kissed his head gently.

A sharp hiss was torn from his lips as he closed his eyes tightly, his fingers clinging desperately to me. He pulled me to him as though he were drowning in his own despair, and I was some sort of life raft.

''I…...'' His breathing was ragged and shallow as he sucked in great gulps of air in that very human-like manner. ''Killed. Him.''

Closing my eyes, I made nonsensical soothing noises as I pulled him tightly to me, rocking him back and forth as I cradled him. Soft, keening noises were muttered into my chest as he allowed himself to fall apart in the safety of my arms.

No, words were not needed at this moment. There were none I could give him to lessen his grief. None I could say that would absolve the guilt he now carried within his soul.

We lay there, entwined together through the long shadows of the night until the first light of day crept into the room, and a sense of peace slowly found us. He grew quiet within my arms, his body relaxing into mine as I held him, lightly tracing a finger over the faded scars that adorned his handsome face.

Silence stretched out between us, but not a silence that is unwelcome or uncomfortable. Rather a silence borne of mutual understanding and deep connection. A language all its own between two souls that do not need words to convey all that needs to be said.

Within my arms, he knew he was safe. He knew I would pick up the pieces of his broken spark, holding them, guarding them until he felt whole again. He knew he was loved more than words could ever possibly say.

How did he know this?

Because that is what he made me feel when he held me in his arms.