I am jumping around a bit in the timeline. This is Optimus's last real fight.

The barren landscape of the Texas desert stretched endlessly before Optimus Prime, his broken body a stark contrast to the flat, unforgiving horizon. The fight had drained him more than he cared to admit, his once-vibrant spark flickering weakly within his chest as Ravage, the Decepticon scout, crumpled on the scorched earth before him.

Optimus staggered, his vision blurred with pain, but his resolve held strong. Ravage had threatened innocent lives, and while his spark was fading, he would not allow the Decepticon to continue his terror. With a labored breath, Optimus took a final step forward, pushing through the agony coursing through his frame, before delivering the finishing blow. Ravage's optics dimmed, his lifeless form slumping to the ground.

Optimus fell to his knees, the weight of his exhaustion pulling him down. His energy reserves were running low, and the pain from his spark's deterioration was becoming unbearable. He forced himself back onto his feet, his massive frame swaying with each movement. The vast emptiness of the desert around him felt suffocating, as if the world itself was closing in on him.

With a painful hiss, Optimus activated his transformation sequence, his alt mode kicking in with a whine of strained machinery. His semi-truck form, once proud and powerful, now struggled to hold together, groaning as parts shifted and locked into place. Despite the effort, the process felt slow, each shift an excruciating reminder of how much time he had left.

Finally, his alt mode was in place. He engaged his comms, sending a signal to the one human he trusted above all others. William Lennox's voice crackled through the static, unaware of the dire situation. He hated doing this. But there were no other Autobots nearby, none even near enough on this continent to call for.

"Optimus? What's going on?" Will's voice came again, filled with concern, a sharp contrast to the cold reality of what Optimus was facing.

"I am in need of assistance," Optimus managed, his voice hoarse, the words coming out strained. He hated sounding weak, hated how his failing spark was betraying him, but there was no time for pride.

He didn't know how much energon he could afford to lose in this state, but he was certain of one thing — he would hold on for as long as it took for Will to arrive.

~0~

Retired Colonel William Lennox's hands clenched the wheel as his tow truck thundered down the empty highway, tires screaming against the asphalt. The sun blazed above him, burning throught the window of the cab, a reflection of the burning fear tightening in his chest.

The comm line crackled faintly. "I am still here," Optimus's voice came through, soft and strained.

Will exhaled hard, the relief mingling with frustration that felt like a knot in his throat. "Good. That's good. You keep talking to me, okay?"

There was a pause, the faint hum of static filling the void. Then, after a moment: "Your voice is... a comfort, William."

Will's throat tightened at the quiet sincerity in those words. "Well, good, because I'm not shutting up anytime soon. Someone's gotta keep you awake, and I guess it's my job for now, huh?" He tried to sound lighthearted, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying the panic he couldn't quite bury.

Optimus's response was faint, a low rumble edged with exhaustion. "I am... grateful."

Grateful. Will's jaw clenched as he pressed harder on the accelerator. Of course Optimus would say something like that, even now, even when he was bleeding out alone in the middle of the goddamn desert. Because Optimus Prime was like that—always thinking of others, always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when it was breaking him.

"Damn it, Prime," Will muttered, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and grief. "What were you thinking? You're dying—your spark is failing—and you still went after Ravage like you've got something to prove. Only you would get off your deathbed to throw yourself into a fight."

"I could not... allow him to harm the innocent," Optimus replied simply, matter-of-fact, as if the decision had been inevitable.

Will laughed bitterly, scrubbing a hand over his face as he fought back the sting behind his eyes. "Of course you couldn't. Because that's who you are—still a damn martyr. Always putting everyone else first, even when you should be home resting."

The silence on the comm felt heavier this time, stretching out until Optimus finally spoke, his voice quieter, more introspective. "I have failed to protect too many lives.

I could not bear to fail anymore."

"Failed?" Will's grip on the wheel tightened until his fingers ached. "Optimus, listen to me—look at me—" He broke off, cursing under his breath when he remembered Optimus couldn't see him. "You didn't fail anyone, you hear me? Not your people, not my people. Not Cybertron, not Earth, not me. You've saved us—all of us—more times than I can count. You don't get to sit out there and call yourself a failure."

Optimus's reply was slow, as if he were processing Will's words with what little energy he had left. "You have always... believed in me."

"Damn right I have," Will said fiercely, his voice thick. "And I always will. You're not dying out here, Optimus. You're not going to bleed out in some godforsaken desert, alone and thinking you failed. You're coming home. You're going to rest, surrounded by people who love you. People who'll be there for you. And you're going to leave this world with peace—not this."

The line was quiet again, the faint hum of Optimus's systems the only response for several agonizing seconds. Then, softly, Optimus said, "Thank you, William Lennox."

That was a bad sign. Optimus only spoke that formally when he was attempting to make a grave point. To hear him speaking like that…it was like he was trying to say goodbye.

Will blinked hard, his vision blurring as he stared at the road ahead. "You don't have to thank me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Just... hold on, okay? Keep talking to me. Let me know you're still there."

"I will try," Optimus replied, his voice quiet but steady, and Will could hear something in it—gratitude, maybe even relief.

For the first time, Will felt the weight in his chest lighten, just a fraction. Optimus wasn't alone. And as long as Will had a say in it, he never would be.

~0~

Will's tow truck bounced over the uneven road as he pushed it to its limits, the engine growling in protest. His comm with Optimus had gone quiet, though he could still hear the faint sound of his breathing—ragged, labored, but there. He clenched his jaw and checked the GPS again. Still hours away. Too far.

He couldn't stand the thought of Optimus lying out there alone, hurting, waiting. It was then that it dawned on him that Annabelle was working in Abilene that summer. She was close to his location. Maybe an hour out. Much closer to Optimus than Will would be for hours.

Grabbing his phone from the console, he hit speed dial, his heart pounding as the line rang. When his daughter picked up, her voice was soft, curious. "Hey, Dad? What's up? Everything okay?"

Will inhaled sharply, steadying himself. "Annabelle, sweetheart, listen to me. I need you to do something for me, and it's important."

There was a pause on her end, her tone shifting immediately. "What is it? What's going on?"

Will closed his eyes for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "It's Optimus. He's... He's hurt. I'm on my way to him, but I'm still hours out, and he's alone right now. But you're close to his location. I can't leave him like that. I need you to go keep him company."

Her breath hitched audibly. "He's hurt? How bad is it?"

Will hesitated, not wanting to scare her, but he couldn't lie, not entirely. "He'll be fine," he said quickly, trying to sound sure, even as his chest ached with uncertainty. "But just in case... I need you to go be there with him. I need you to be strong for him, Annabelle. Can you do that for me?"

There was a pause, her silence heavy with understanding. "Yeah, Dad. Of course. Send me the location."

He exhaled, relief flooding him even as he fought to keep his voice steady. "Thank you, sweetheart. Just... Just sit with him, okay? He's strong, but he shouldn't be alone right now. He needs someone there."

"I'll be there," she said firmly, her tone calm and resolute. "I promise, Dad."

"Good," Will said softly, his throat tightening. "You're a good kid, Annabelle. He'll appreciate it, even if he doesn't say it."

Her voice softened, the edge of worry still there. "It's the least I can do."

Will swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured. "And don't worry—he's gonna be fine. He's Optimus, after all. But just in case... just go be with him, okay?"

"I'm on my way," she said, already moving.

Will nodded, though she couldn't see him. "That's my girl. Call me when you're there."

"I will. Drive safe, Dad."

~0~

Annabelle pulled off the highway,staring out at the empty stretch of desert. The GPS led her down a narrow dirt road, and in the distance, she saw him—Optimus Prime, his massive frame slumped against the hard earth, illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun, half in and half out of his alt mode as he leaned against the hill sloping down from the lonely road. As if he had tried and failed to maintain his alt form in his damaged condition.

Her breath caught. Even from here, she could see how bad it was. His body was battered, deep slashing wounds carved into his metal plating, energon leaking from too many places to count. But his optics, though dim, were still lit. Still aware. Still him.

She parked and jumped out, gravel crunching beneath her boots as she ran toward him. "Optimus!"

His head turned at the sound of her voice, optics flickering slightly. For a moment, he simply looked at her, and she could see the faintest trace of surprise in his expression—surprise, but also something else. Something gentler.

"Annabelle..." His voice was weak, but steady, edged with something almost like warmth. "Seeing you... is an unexpected joy."

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, pressing a hand to her chest as if that would slow the racing of her heart. "Yeah, well, you scared the hell out of my dad. And me."

Optimus exhaled—a deep, static-filled sound that might have been a chuckle if he had the strength for it. "That... was not my intention."

Annabelle huffed, shaking her head as she stepped closer, taking in just how bad it was. She had seen him injured before—she had grown up knowing he was a soldier, a protector, always putting himself in the line of fire. But this was different. This wasn't the aftermath of some battle where he would eventually rise again.

This felt final.

Swallowing hard, she crouched beside him, resting a hand lightly against his massive frame, ignoring the warmth of leaking energon against her palm. "Dad's on his way," she said softly. "He told me to come be with you until he gets here."

Optimus's optics dimmed slightly, like he was processing the words. And then, quietly, he said, "That... was kind of him. He had told me you were coming…I confess…I did not quite believe you would find me."

Annabelle bit her lip. "Yeah, well. I can be stubborn about finding my way around if I want to be. We kind of like having you around, you know. So you better not be dying on me..."

He made a huffing noise. "I do not plan on it." Optimus was silent for a moment, then, just barely above a whisper: "But I am... glad you are here."

Her throat tightened. He sounded so tired. But there was something else in his voice too—something like gratitude, like quiet contentment. Even now, even after everything, he still found comfort in just not being alone.

Annabelle sniffed and swiped at her eyes before the tears could fall. "Yeah, well, I figured you could use the company."

Optimus gave another soft exhale, and his optics flickered, focusing on her again. "I am... grateful."

She nodded quickly, trying to steady herself, to push back the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "You just hang on, okay? Dad's almost here."

Optimus's optics dimmed and brightened again, a slow blink. "I will try."

Annabelle swallowed hard and sat down beside him, resting her back against the warm metal of his arm. The desert stretched out in front of them, quiet, endless. And there, in the middle of nowhere, she stayed.

~0~

The sky deepened to a dark, endless stretch of indigo, the first stars flickering to life like embers in the vast cold. Annabelle pulled her knees to her chest, the dry desert air cooling as the last heat of the day faded. She glanced at Optimus, who remained still, his massive frame slumped but not lifeless, fully unfurlded from his alt-mode now, leaning up against the side of the hill on which he rested. He was likely in too much pain to even attempt to stay hidden anymore. His optics were faint, but they still watched the sky, distant yet present.

"Do you remember," he murmured suddenly, his voice barely more than a low vibration in the night, "when you were younger, and I put you on my shoulder to look at the stars?"

Annabelle blinked. Her throat tightened at the memory. The deep, steady rumble of his voice, the feeling of unshakable safety as his hand lifted her, the way the stars had seemed closer from his height—like she could reach out and touch them.

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah... I remember."

Optimus didn't say anything right away. Then, slowly, without a word, he lifted his trembling hand and offered it to her, his palm open, waiting.

She hesitated, eyeing his trembling servo, wincing, not at the thought that he might drop her—he wouldn't, she was sure of it—but at the thought of putting any weight, however slight, on his battered body.

"Are you sure, Optimus?"

A faint glow flickered in his optics—something wry, something tired but unmistakeably affectionate and wistful. "Humor me."

It was then that it hit her—Optimus Prime, leader of the free universe, the mythic titan who had always placed others before self—Optimus was asking for this. Right now, for some reason, he wanted this. Needed to relive that memory.

Who was she to deny him?

Annabelle exhaled a shaky breath before stepping forward, pressing her hands against his massive fingers as she climbed onto his palm. She barely had time to brace herself before he lifted her gently, cradling her against the warmth of his metal as he raised her up and settled her against his uninjured shoulder.

And just like that, she was ten years old again, perched on the shoulder of something impossibly old and impossibly kind, staring up at an infinite sky.

The stars stretched out forever, burning cold and bright, uncaring of the battle scars below them. She let out a slow breath and unthinkingly wiped the drying energon as it streaked down the edge of his jaw, the glowing trail of his blood stark against the tattooed silver of his plating. For a long moment, she studied him—not as the warrior, not as the leader, not as the Prime.

But as something otherworldly—and yet, impossibly dear. He had suffered so much and yet here he was….still so achingly gentle, reminiscing with the human woman that he had watched mature, asking for her closeness, her nearness, as if it mattered to him.

"See any stars that look familiar?" she asked, brushing away another streak of dried energon. "You've probably been to some of them."

Optimus hummed softly, gaze still fixed on the stars. "Yes... though it has been a long time since I have walked among them."

Annabelle swallowed, her fingers stilling against the warm metal of his face. "Do you miss it? Being up there, among the stars?"

He was quiet for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was soft. "Sometimes. But I would never trade it for where I am now."

Her chest tightened. She let her hand rest against his cheek, the faint hum of his systems barely buzzing beneath her fingertips. She would never understand him. Despite having grown up with the reality of the Autobots, she never ceased to marvel at beneficent enigma that was their ancient leader.

"Good," she whispered. "Because we're not ready to let you go yet."

Optimus didn't answer. He simply kept looking at the stars, his hand trembling but firm, cupping her to his shoulder, holding her close.

He was bleeding. Still bleeding.

Even in the dim glow of the moon, she could see it, the way it seeped from the wounds in his chest, sluggish and dark, pooling beneath him in the sand. He wasn't built to bleed like this. He wasn't built to die like this.

Her throat tightened. She wanted to say something—anything—to ease the fear clawing its way through her chest. But what could she possibly say to him ?

It was Optimus who finally broke the silence again, his voice rough, halting, but still steady in its way.

"You came out here simply to sit with me," he murmured.

Annabelle blinked, startled by the quiet certainty in his tone. It wasn't a question, wasn't a statement of surprise—just a simple acknowledgment, as if it was something that truly meant something to him.

"Of course, I did," she said, frowning. "You didn't think I'd just let you be out here alone, did you?"

Optimus exhaled softly, a sound like cooling metal, like the weight of centuries pressing down on him.

"You and your mother and father," he continued slowly, as if each word took effort, "have always been faithful friends." His optics flickered slightly, their glow dimming and brightening with his labored breaths. "Guides to me in this strange world."

She swallowed hard, her heart twisting. he met his gaze, her voice small, but steady as she sought to keep him talking, her mind asking the simplest of questions in her desperation.

"Why do you love them so much? The stars, I mean..."

Optimus was silent for a long while, his optics flickering as if considering her question deeply. Then, finally, his voice came, soft and reflective. "They are some of the only things that can make me feel small in your world."

Annabelle blinked, the weight of his words settling in her chest. She could feel the vastness of his soul, the incredible history he carried with him. He wasn't just an Autobot leader. He was something more—something beyond human comprehension. Yet here he was, humbling himself, allowing her to see him in this fragile state, to be with him, even in his final moments.

"Small?" she echoed softly.

His hand trembled, but she could still feel the gentleness in it, the care. "In the face of the stars... and the infinite vastness of the universe... I am reminded that, despite all I have done, I am still just one being among many. I am humbled. I am reminded of my place in the grand scheme of things."

Annabelle swallowed hard, her heart a lump in her throat. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and let the silence fall between them once more, looking out at the stars together, side by side. She didn't need to say anything else—because in this moment, in this shared quiet, she understood.

Optimus wasn't just a soldier, a leader, a guardian. He was something much more, something both incomprehensible and deeply, profoundly human.

For all his power, for all his greatness, what meant the most to him was being small beneath the stars. Being loved by the human family with whom he was sharing the last years of his life.

And of course they get him home. Just throwing this here. Thanks for reading! Please review!