Set six weeks before Optimus's death.
The water cradled Optimus like a distant memory, its cool weightlessness a balm to his weary frame. He floated in Bumblebee's arms, his optics dim and flickering, gazing up at the stars mirrored on the lake's surface. The faint ripples of the water lapped against his metal, soft and soothing, and for the first time in months, he felt something close to peace. The pain in his spark, a relentless ache that had gnawed at him for cycles, was dulled here, muted by the gentle buoyancy of the lake and the tenderness of Bumblebee's care.
He hadn't expected Bumblebee to think of this—to bring him to the water, knowing how he cherished it. It was a gesture so thoughtful, so unselfish, that it struck a chord deep within him. Optimus had always loved water. Even on Earth, far from the energy rivers of Cybertron, he had found solace in the oceans, lakes, and streams. Their vastness, their life, their quiet strength—it had always reminded him of what they fought for, what they strove to protect.
That Bumblebee remembered this and brought him here...it humbled him.
The young scout's arms were strong and steady around him, yet Optimus could sense the faint tremor in his frame, the unspoken worry that radiated from him. Bumblebee was trying so hard to be strong, trying to shield him as if their roles had reversed. Optimus's spark ached—not from the physical pain, though it throbbed like a dying sun within his chest, but from the knowledge of what his condition was doing to Bumblebee. He could see the desperation in the scout's optics, the fear he worked so valiantly to conceal. It hurt more than any spark attack ever could.
But Optimus would not let Bumblebee bear this burden. He could not.
Even now, as his systems faltered and his body grew weaker, Optimus concealed the depth of his pain. His every word, every flicker of his optics, was measured to ease Bumblebee's worries. It gave him purpose, this act of shielding the younger mech, of projecting the strength that had carried the Autobots through countless battles. He had always carried the weight of leadership, the weight of their survival, and he would carry it until his spark gave out. That burden was his alone to bear. Bumblebee had carried enough.
"You mustn't fear, Bumblebee," he said softly, his voice steady despite the strain it cost him. "Even in endings, there is purpose. There is renewal."
Bumblebee tightened his hold, his optics shimmering with unshed tears. "Don't talk like that, Optimus. You're not going anywhere. I won't let you." His voice was rough, speaking still pained the younger bot, but he did so liberally for Optimus's benefit, it was an act of generosity that Optimus did not take for granted.
The determination in his voice was both heartbreaking and beautiful. Bumblebee's spark burned so brightly, so fiercely, that Optimus couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. He had always known Bumblebee was special—a warrior with the heart of a poet, a spark untouched by the cynicism of war.
"Do you see the stars?" Optimus asked, tilting his head slightly to gaze at the sky.
Bumblebee hesitated, his voice quiet. "I see them."
"So many shining together," Optimus murmured, his optics reflecting the distant lights. "A reminder of what we fought for. What we tried to protect."
Bumblebee's frame shuddered faintly, but he held Optimus closer, as if to anchor him to this moment. "You always see things like that. Even in the middle of everything. I've never understood it."
Optimus smiled faintly, though his optics flickered with fatigue. "It is not for you to understand, Bumblebee. It is for me to carry." His gaze softened as he looked at the young scout. "You've carried enough. And soon enough, this burden will be yours. You'll understand... You'll understand more than you'll ever want to..."
Bumblebee shook his head, his voice breaking. "It's not just that. It's what you saw in us. What you did for us. What you did for me. You saved my life, Optimus. Don't you remember? I was dying. I knew I was dying, bleeding out, waiting for my spark to beat its last. And you. You gave me your energon, your lifeblood. It was heresy. It went against everything I'd ever been taught. Everything you'd ever been taught about the sanctity of a Prime's energon. But you did it. And, in a sense, you became my Creator in that moment. Everything I've done since then, every step I've taken, has been because of you. To prove myself worthy of that sacrifice."
Optimus's spark ached anew, but not with pain—with the weight of Bumblebee's devotion. He hadn't given the transfusion to be remembered, to be revered. He had done it because he couldn't let Bumblebee go. The thought of losing him, of letting that bright spark flicker out, had been unbearable. Heresy be damned.
"You were always worth it, Bumblebee," Optimus said quietly. "More than you will ever know."
The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the soft sounds of the water. Optimus felt the tension in Bumblebee's frame, the weight of his emotions, but he didn't press. Bumblebee would carry this moment in his own way, and that was enough.
The water buoyed them, its weightlessness a reminder of the fleeting nature of existence. Optimus closed his optics for a moment, letting the cool embrace of the lake ease his failing systems. He was tired—so very tired—but he would not falter. Not yet. Bumblebee still needed him.
"You've always been what I fought for," Optimus murmured, his voice softer now, fading like the light of his optics. "The future… my hope...the legacy I never thought I would have..." The words themselves were nonsensical, but he was too tired for pretenses, and he knew that Bumblebee would understand the depth of their meaning, the truth in their unguardedness.
Bumblebee's grip tightened, his frame trembling with emotion. Optimus felt the faintest smile tug at his lips, a flicker of warmth in the cold night. The pain was still there, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, but it was muted now, eclipsed by the love and pride he felt for the young mech holding him.
The stars above shone brighter than ever, their light reflected on the lake's surface. Optimus let himself rest, the weightlessness of the water cradling him as he floated in Bumblebee's arms. He had carried the burden of leadership for so long, and he would carry it a little longer, but he trusted Bumblebee to carry the light forward.
No one was more worthy.
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