I've finally caught up with what I had previously posted. This story is getting so much longer, and I hope that you all keep reading. Please enjoy this extended edit. :)
Optimus started online again, his spark hammering in his audios. He looked around, hoping to see that kind face with the bright golden optics again. But it had only been a dream. Placing his head in his hands, he began to whine softly. After so many years of craving to see Primus up close, he'd been having vivid dreams of the mech for weeks. His spark ached from the overwhelming joy and sorrow of finally seeing Primus but being stuck on Earth instead of on Cybertron. He needed to go to the temple. He needed to speak with Primus. But he couldn't. They were working through political issues with the human governments. They couldn't leave now.
The Prime checked the time on his internal chronometer. It was midnight. That meant that most of the humans were asleep and so were the mechs. Still, his fuel tank complained; he had been so preoccupied with his dreams that he hadn't been in taking energon properly. So he stood up and walked toward the rec room. As he passed through the halls, trying to be quiet, a door opened and Bumblebee peeked out, looking tired. Optimus paused then inclined his head.
"Hungry?"
Bumblebee nodded and followed him. As they approached the rec room, they heard voices. They paused in the doorway to see Ratchet pacing, his optics flashing as he ranted to Ironhide in Cybertronian, who was sitting patiently and sipping a purple energon cube.
"He hasn't eaten in days, 'Hide! Days! He won't tell us what's wrong, but something is bothering him! At least with Bumblebee, we know why he's skipping meals! Ever since Silverstreak disappeared, both of them haven't been eating! I'm going to strangle them!"
"Go right ahead," Bumblebee muttered, his optics dim. "Maybe then I can see Sam again."
Both mechs jumped and spun to see their audience. Ratchet's optics flushed pink, but he put his hands on his hips and began to speak. Before he could get a word in, Optimus cut in.
"We came to eat. Don't start, Ratch."
Ratchet relaxed. "Allow me, then," he said and strolled over to prepare two full cubes of their favorite energon.
Optimus and Bumblebee sat down and within a minute, a cube of bright blue energon was set in front of Optimus and a cube of hot pink in front of Bumblebee. Bumblebee smiled and picked up his cube, taking a long draught. He sighed in satisfaction.
"Thanks, Ratch," he murmured.
"Why are you two up?" Ironhide asked, stirring his purple energon with a long, thin piece of iron.
Bumblebee shrugged. "Couldn't recharge."
"Dreams," Optimus said absently.
Ratchet nearly spit out his pale green energon. "What?!"
Optimus shuttered his optics. "Dreams," he said.
"We don't dream," Ratchet said sternly.
"I do," Optimus said, shrugging. "Part of being a Prime."
Bumblebee swallowed another mouthful. "Sam used to pull me into his dreams with the Primes. They were fascinating."
"Mm," Optimus said.
Ratchet narrowed his optics. "I don't see you eating, Optimus."
Optimus made a face then picked up his cube and swallowed three large gulps. The rush of energy surprised him, and he shuddered. Ratchet gave him a knowing look.
"Don't," Optimus muttered.
"I don't have to," he said smugly.
Optimus snorted and took another drink. Ironhide tapped the energon off of his iron and took a bite, crunching loudly.
"What do you dream about?" he asked.
"Cybertron," Optimus replied. "The temple. Flashes of younglings." He paused, reluctant to admit the whole truth. But he was with his closest friends. "Primus," he murmured.
They sat up, and Bumblebee leaned forward. "Sam?" he asked.
"Not that I can remember."
Bumblebee wilted, but he still looked curious. "What do you see Primus for then?"
Optimus didn't reply for a moment, sipping on his energon. "It has to do with being a Prime. We have some sort of connection. The priests didn't really explain it." He sighed and placed his head on his fist, drawing a finger through the buzzing energy. "Neither did Primus."
"Was he supposed to?" Ironhide asked.
"They said he'd talk to me. He never has. Until now."
"What's he saying?" Ratchet asked.
"To come home. To go to the temple. To help some new Prime."
Ironhide slapped his hand on the table. "A new Prime?" he demanded. "There's another Prime?!"
"Apparently. He's on Cybertron with the younglings."
"How do you feel about that?" Bumblebee asked.
Optimus made a face. "Help is always appreciated," he intoned.
"Frag off, Prime," Ironhide said flatly.
Optimus sighed again. If any mech besides those sitting with him had said that, he would have punished them. But not these three.
"Fine. I'm angry."
"Why?" Ratchet asked.
Optimus offlined his optics. "Because I spent years asking Primus to respond to me. I begged, pleaded, sobbed, and screamed, and he never appeared, in person or in dreams. And from what I've seen about this new Prime, he speaks face to face with Primus. That's what I wanted for my entire life, and he gets it as soon as he becomes a Prime." Optimus groaned low in his chest. "What did I do wrong?" he asked, looking from face to face.
"There's got to be a reason, Optimus," Ironhide said gently. "It's not your fault."
Optimus gulped out of his cube, wishing for high grade. It would have been easier to talk about if he was drunk.
Go on and talk to them.
The prompting was so intense that he began to speak. "I used to be Orion Pax, you know. I was a singer in the chorus in the temple. I loved singing to the heavens, to the Great One. I never sang to Primus. I sang for him because he wanted us to sing to the Great One. Most of the choir sang to Primus, praising him. But he's just a mech. So I never did."
Ironhide, Ratchet, and Bumblebee stared at him, listening intently. They had never heard him speak of his life before becoming a Prime. It was too interesting to stop him.
Optimus took another swig, and he continued, staring into the past. "When Megatron started acting funny, I tried to intervene. We were friends back then. But when he attacked the council, I knew it was no good. Then the priests came knocking. They blindfolded me and took me to the temple. I knew that I was in the temple—how many times I had gone in?—but we went deeper than I was ever allowed before. A door was opened, and they pushed me in. One of the older priests, Whitespot, spoke.
"'Here is the mech you requested,' he said.
"Then I was left alone. I took off my blindfold and I saw Primus's spark. It was so pretty. All the colors and bigger than any mech I've ever seen. It floated there then beckoned me forward. I walked over until I was underneath it, and then it drew me in. I couldn't see or feel anything physically, and then I was with him. I saw him smiling at me and he spoke.
"'Arise Optimus Prime.'"
"And I became what I am now. And that was the last time he spoke to me. Until the dreams. They started a few months ago, before Silverstreak was taken. He's been calling me home. All of us, actually. He wants us to come home. And we can't yet. The humans are taking so long…"
"Ironic considering their short lifespans," Ironhide said.
"So we're leaving Earth?" Bumblebee asked.
Optimus shrugged before he paused. A strange sensation flooded through him, like peace and confidence. The others looked at him, frowning.
"Are you okay, Optimus?" Ratchet asked. "You look… different."
As they watched, Optimus's optics flashed gold and he smiled a soft, knowing smile. "You've done what you can. Some may stay, but you just come home. There is much to do, and you know you don't belong on Earth. It complicates things to have you there. The Great One is over everything. You will come home very soon. Things will fall into place. And you will always be welcome to come into the temple. All of you."
Optimus shuttered his optics, and they turned blue again. He looked around then yelled and leaped to his feet. His spark pulsed so violently that he felt faint. Ratchet stood up and caught him, his own spark zapping. Bumblebee gaped at Optimus, his optics white with shock. Ironhide alone seemed calm, and he laughed softly.
"Guess he really is talking to you. Or at least through you, eh Prime?"
Optimus was trembling from head to foot. He looked faint, and Ratchet eased him to the ground.
"Easy, Optimus," he murmured. "Easy. Deep intakes." He looked up. "Bee, go get my case. I think he's going to faint."
Bumblebee shot out of the room, returning in two minutes with a metal case that looked like an old-fashioned medical bag. Ratchet took it and pressed a button. It opened and Ratchet took a blue vial out and snapped it. He shook it then injected it into the soft cables on Optimus's neck. Optimus moaned, spamming at the prick then leaned against Ratchet, who crooned softly.
As Optimus recovered, intaking evenly, Bumblebee and Ironhide joined them on the floor. Ironhide studied Optimus.
"Well, we can't not believe him now," he said.
"His optics were gold," Bumblebee breathed. "Like Primus was there."
"He was," Optimus muttered, his optics flickering. "He was inside me. He spoke through me."
"Easy, Optimus," Ratchet said.
Optimus shifted then moved to stand. He was shaking a little, but the calming draft had settled his spark. Ratchet kept a hand on Optimus's back until he sat down again. Then they resumed their seats. It was settling over them the unreality of the situation, but none of them could deny that Primus had spoken to them. Optimus drank down the rest of his cube then stared at it.
"He spoke through me," he said quietly.
"Isn't that neat?" Bumblebee asked excitedly.
"Yeah. I just wish he'd talk to me."
"Maybe that's why he wants to bring you to the temple?" Ironhide suggested.
Optimus smiled a little. "Maybe."
There was a noise, and Kup appeared in the doorway. He glanced around then headed for their table. "I expected Hot Rod and Cliffjumper. What are you four doing that's so loud?"
Ironhide grinned. "We just had to party. Primus is calling us home."
Kup gave him a strange look, so Bumblebee eagerly jumped in and began to explain what had happened. Kup crossed his arms and took in the information with his usual stern expression. When the story was finished, he snorted.
"I'm not surprised. When Primus starts to speak to his Primes, things get interesting."
Ratchet frowned. "What do you mean?"
"It's happened to every Prime since the originals. They're chosen and he speaks to and through them. It can take a long time for him to speak, but he does. It's always a unifying message and a call to come back from the errors."
"What errors?" Bumblebee asked.
"Not sure. Didn't pay attention to that part. Something about the Great One and worship."
"Probably that the priests encouraged the worship of Primus instead of the Great One," Optimus said.
Ironhide crunched on the last of his iron. "That's interesting," he commented.
Everybody looked at him. "What's interesting?" Kup asked.
"That Primus would call for that sort of thing and then choose one of the only mechs who openly refused to worship Primus instead of the Great One to be a Prime."
Optimus's spark leapt in his chest as he gazed in wonder at Ironhide. "You… You think they're connected?"
"Too much to think it's a coincidence," Ironhide pointed out. "All of Cybertron worshipped Primus before the war. All except for you."
Optimus considered this. "Maybe," he finally said.
"Well, we should all get to berth," Kup said. "Or we'll have the humans up our afts about making too much noise."
They agreed, gulping down the last of their energon before heading back to berth. Optimus settled down and stared up at the ceiling as he relived the last hour. He had been a channel for Primus! That was exciting. But how in the world would everything become settled enough for them to leave Earth? He didn't know. Things were so complicated. But if Primus said the Great One knew what He was doing, that was enough for him. So he offlined his optics and began to dream. The face of the youngling Prime floated through his dreams, and that was all he remembered.