Optimus hadn't been sure what he'd find when he entered the medbay, but he was relieved that the assurance that flooded his spark that the young Prime was okay hadn't been wrong. Pipes had fixed up most of the damage by then, and Ratchet, First Aid, and Optimus were fascinated by a medical technique they'd never seen before. Rewiring had implications beyond fixing wings, and First Aid realized that the knowledge of rewiring had affected the way Pipes had performed Magnus's final surgery.

After Silverstorm's wing was fixed, the medics went off to discuss the implications of rewiring in the grander scheme of fixing things, and Optimus stayed behind. He sat down beside Silverstorm and stared at him. Ultra Magnus sipped on medical-grade energon and watched him.

"What's on your mind, Prime?"

"What am I going to do with him?" Optimus asked softly.

"Lead Cybertron out of this war, hopefully," Ultra Magnus replied.

Optimus glanced up, startled. Then he smiled. "I suppose that's true, hopefully at least. But that's not what I meant."

"I know," Ultra Magnus said. "But what are you thinking of doing?"

"I don't know. Yelling won't work," Optimus said.

"Rarely does with younglings. I should know."

"How can I make him realize how stupid he was?" Optimus groused.

"There is something I'd recommend," Ultra Magnus said thoughtfully. "It's revolutionary, but it seems to work."

Optimus perked. "What's that?"

"Talk to him."

"Oh." The Prime wilted.

Ultra Magnus chuckled. "Treat him like you want to be treated. So that means when you know Decepticons are coming, you tell him. Show him how to act. We learn best by following other people, not from a cold list of do's and don'ts. He is a youngling even if he's a Prime. He needs you, and you need him, too, just in a different way."

"I don't know about that," Optimus said.

"Pit slag," Ultra Magnus said. "I watched you carry the load of an entire faction of a planet gone to war. You've had so much on your shoulders. When you got here, I saw that you manage your current team well. But you've begun to realize that you're home and things have changed. You haven't kept up with Cybertron out there on Silverstorm's home planet. And you have duties beyond being a war leader, which you've shoved off on Silverstorm, I might add. He's buried in reports, and you haven't lifted a finger to help him."

Guilt squeezed Optimus's spark and he looked down. "I… I didn't mean for that to happen. But everything is so much. I don't know how Silverstorm has managed for as long as he has. Not only is he making Cybertron habitable, but he's clearing out the crystallized energon and it's flowing again. The planet is producing food because of him. And what have I done?"

"What you were meant to do," Ultra Magnus said sternly. "You were meant to go to another planet, to watch over those who came to you. You did that, and you did it well. But it's time for change. You need to work with Silverstorm. He's young and has vision and energy, but he's not stable. He needs direction. You can be his stabilizer. You can guide him. Or better yet, you two can talk and decide together where Cybertron should go. That is what you're supposed to do now."

Optimus nodded slowly. "But what specifically should I do? I… I'm at a loss, Magnus."

"You both have been dancing around each other, pushing too much here, not giving enough there. Take the time and learn how to work together. You have the chance now, before more soldiers come and the war picks up again. You've both got a solid team behind you. Now it's time to make them one team under both of you."

Optimus studied Silverstorm's young face, and he knew Ultra Magnus was right. But it was so hard, and it would only get harder.

"You want my advice? Talk to him when he onlines. I need some recharge myself," Ultra Magnus said. He set aside his empty cube and slipped down onto his back. Within minutes he was recharging soundly.

Optimus sat and thought about everything he'd been through with Silverstorm, as far back as when he was Sam Witwicky. He'd been so different, but even then there were glimmers of potential. Then he was gone, and they'd thought he was dead. By some miracle of Primus, he wasn't, and he'd come back different in many ways. But he'd never grown up. Ironhide had told him that, but at the time he'd been so frustrated over dealing with another injury, another outburst of temper, another loss of control. And then he was gone again, and soon after, Bumblebee and Hot Rod had changed. It was simply exchanging one mess for two.

Optimus pinched his olfactory ridge and spared a fond thought for Lennox, who had often done that when dealing with the government representatives. Then his thoughts turned back to his current predicament. Silverstreak had been difficult to deal with, but he had trouble reconciling him with Silverstorm. Silverstorm seemed to be the exact opposite of Silverstreak. He was responsible, compassionate, and so full of life. Except, Optimus suddenly realized, around him. Silverstorm always became a bit hesitant, his wings always hitched when he saw Optimus, and he stopped being so open. He reverted back to his old self, just without the temper.

Optimus sat back and shook his head. He'd never really noticed the effect his presence had on Silverstorm before. But it was so obvious.

"Optimus?"

Optimus started and looked down to see Silverstorm's optics flickering. "You're online!"

"Flush my system," Silverstorm slurred. "Too much of the drug. Not waking up…"

Optimus knew what to do, having seen Ratchet do it hundreds of times and having done so himself in emergencies. He pressurized the solvent and slipped the needle into the soft cable on Silverstorm's neck.

"In," Optimus commanded. Silverstorm did so. "Hold." The older Prime pressed the button and Silverstorm's optics flashed white. "Out."

Silverstorm shuddered and coughed a little. Optimus retrieved a cube of medical grade and helped Silverstorm sit up so he could drink.

"Thanks," Silverstorm rasped. "I know I need that sludge because wing damage hurts, but slag I hate it."

Optimus nodded sympathetically. "I always hate onlining when the anesthetic is still active. Feel better?"

Silverstorm sipped his cube and shrugged. "My wing doesn't hurt."

Optimus could sense his embarrassment. "But your pride does," he said gently.

"Ah, what does that matter?" Silverstorm asked.

"I get it. It's happened to me so many times. I know it hurts."

"Ugh, gag me," Silverstorm muttered. "You're just too perfect, aren't you? Can't even let me die of shame without reminding me of that."

Optimus paused. Perfect? He wasn't perfect. But he could sense that wasn't what Silverstorm wanted to say. There was something else in the conversation, something else that was bothering Silverstorm. He leaned forward. "Say it."

"What?" Silverstorm asked, sounding petulant to his own audios.

"Whatever it is. Say it without losing your temper."

Silverstorm stared at him then looked down. "Are you ever going to be proud of me?"

Optimus hadn't expected that. He shuttered his optics and leaned back. He didn't understand what that had to do with the pain he saw quivering along Silverstorm's wings. After the silence stretched on for a few clicks, the younger Prime glanced up at him, and all at once Optimus saw himself. He remembered looking at his protector, Spidget, and needing to hear those words, those precious words, but he'd been denied. Spidget had never been proud of him, and losing him so young had driven Optimus nearly mad with grief and regret. He sucked in hard and stared at Silverstorm. Had he become Spidget? Had he really never said those words to Silverstorm? Was this who he wanted to be? No, he decided, he would be Alpha Trion instead of Spidget.

"Silverstorm, I never meant to make you think I'm not proud of you," Optimus said sincerely. "I've seen you transform, literally in a sense, from an awkward teenage human to a Cybertronian youngling. You've dealt with far more than any human ever had to, and far more than most Cybertronians. You're strong and smart and capable in so many ways."

Optimus paused. Silverstorm looked at him with hopeful optics, and his wings seemed to project vulnerability.

"What I mean is that I'm very proud of you. You've come so far from what you were. No matter what, I'm proud of you. I'm honored to have seen you grow and I can't wait to work with you."

Silverstorm stared for a moment then a beaming grin crossed his face. He seemed to glow with pleasure as his wings projected that he was very, very happy. Optimus was glad to have given him what he needed.

"I guess you know I was an idiot and should have told you?" Silverstorm asked casually.

Optimus nodded. "Yes," he said. "But I think you learned your lesson."

"Yeah." Silverstorm sipped his energon. "Can I ask you something? It's still bothering me, even though it might be settled."

"What is it?"

"Do I still have to help Ratchet reorganize his entire medbay? Or can I just… not do that?"

Optimus chuckled. "You don't have to worry about that."

Silverstorm relaxed. "Good." He paused again, the air a little awkward. "So how do we do this?"

Optimus snorted. "I don't know. But Magnus was right. We can't avoid the tough conversations. So I guess my question to you is how do you want to do this?"

They considered that for a while before Silverstorm turned to Optimus.

"I think our first goal is to combine our teams," he said. "Because they are not getting along very well. Besides Ironhide, there's a lot of grumbling about my team from yours. And my team are grumbling about your team, too. We need to fix that."

Optimus nodded. "Agreed. So what do we do?"

"We make them interact more," Silverstorm replied. "Once Magnus started interacting with the younglings instead of bossing them around, he realized what he was doing wrong."

"Sounds like a plan."

"What plan?" Ultra Magnus asked tiredly.

Both Primes turned to look at Ultra Magnus. His optics were dim, indicating that he was half in recharge.

"At ease, Magnus," Optimus said. "We're just talking."

"You're fine. Recharge," Silverstorm encouraged.

Ultra Magnus nodded and sank back down. Silverstorm's wings quivered, and Optimus frowned.

"Why are you so melancholy?"

"Huh?" Silverstorm glanced at him. "Ah, it's just Magnus. I'm worried about him. I've seen him go up and down for a while in between surgeries. I just hope he fully recovers. I haven't seen him at full strength for ages. He feels so bad sometimes. He just wants to be useful. He doesn't think he is right now. But he's wrong."

"Of course he is," Optimus said. He studied Silverstorm's profile. "What do you want to tell him?"

"That he's been so helpful to me and the others. He's the oldest mech we've known besides Primus. The younglings need more than I can give, and Magnus fills that gap in some way. I'm hoping the mechs will do that for them, too."

Optimus smiled. "We do learn better by following others than a list of do's and don'ts."

Silverstorm made an approving noise. "Hey, that's true!"

Optimus nodded. "Now, how about we get some reports done?"

"We?" Silverstorm asked, brightening. "You'll help."

"Yes," Optimus said. He shifted. "I should have been helping before. Forgive me."

"Better late than never," Silverstorm said. He reached up and tapped his audial. "Mirage! Bring some of those reports to the medbay. Optimus is requesting some."

"Hopefully he'll do some of them so we can see you sometimes," Mirage said dryly.

"He's planning to. You can join in if you want."

"Sure. Anything to get those fraggers done."

Silverstorm laughed as he signed off then relayed the conversation to Optimus. Optimus considered this then grinned and reached for his audial. "Ratchet? Ironhide? Kup? Prowl? Report to the medbay please."

That brought out a gale of laughter from Silverstorm, who laughed so hard he started hiccuping. "When you want to get it done," he wheezed.

"Rope in others to help," Optimus said. "Tip number one, you don't have to do it all yourself. You can and should ask for help if you need it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Silverstorm said. "Oh, and I was wondering something."

"Yes?" Optimus asked.

"Want to come with me to the temple tomorrow? Primus really wants to properly meet you."

Optimus froze then quickly looked away. "No. We should get these reports done. Even with several hands, they'll take days."

"Okay," Silverstorm said. "But if you ever want to go, just ask. I'll go with you any time."

After scanning Silverstorm's face, Optimus realized that he was serious. He wasn't forcing him to go. Optimus relaxed.

"Good. Now I hear footsteps. Get ready to be bored."

"Are you kidding? The medbay is boring anyway. I should know. I spent months in here after Primus restructured me to be a flier," Silverstorm said.

"Do tell," Optimus said as Mirage stomped in and dropped an armload of reports onto the table.

So Silverstorm did, starting with being whisked away from Earth for a second time and waking, once again, on Cybertron.