You can think of this as happening the same day as the previous chapter.
Sarah Lennox moved quietly through the barn, the vase of white roses held carefully in her hands. The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of hay and metal. She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring she wasn't being too loud as she approached the berth where Optimus Prime lay.
He looked so impossibly still, his massive frame dwarfed by the cavernous barn, his optics dim and shuttered in sleep. The sight of him like this always struck her—a being so powerful, so monumental, reduced now to frailty. She hated that word, frailty, but there was no denying it. His spark was failing, and even the mighty Optimus Prime could not outrun time.
She stopped beside the workbench she'd turned into a bedside table for him and gently set the vase down. The roses—soft, pristine, and delicate—seemed out of place in the industrial surroundings of the barn. And yet, as Sarah adjusted the vase, making sure it wouldn't tip, she thought the flowers added a quiet dignity to the space.
Her gaze drifted back to Optimus. His expression was peaceful, but the lines of wear and strain were etched into the contours of his faceplate. He looked impossibly old, and it made her heart ache. For a moment, she stood there, unsure of what she was doing or why she felt compelled to bring him flowers.
What are you doing, Sarah? He's not even human.
And yet… he was. Not in the literal sense, of course, but in all the ways that mattered. He felt pain, sorrow, joy, love. He had suffered so much and carried so many burdens for the sake of others. The least she could do was try to offer some comfort, however small.
She lingered for a moment longer, unable to stop herself from watching him. There was something vulnerable about seeing Optimus asleep, his guard down in a way she had never witnessed before. It made him seem less like the indomitable Prime and more like…
A person.
She was about to turn and leave when his optics flickered faintly, the deep blue glow hazy as they focused on her.
"What… is this…?" His voice was soft, rasping, heavy with exhaustion.
Sarah froze, her heart leaping to her throat. "Oh, I didn't mean to wake you," she said quickly. "I—uh, it's just some roses. I thought they might… brighten things up a little."
Optimus's optics moved slowly, taking in the vase. "Roses," he murmured. "Why…?"
She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. What did she think she was doing? Bringing flowers to an alien being seemed absurd when she stopped to think about it. But she pushed that thought aside and stepped closer to him, her voice gentle.
"Flowers are… well, they're something we give people when we want to make them feel better. It's a custom," she explained. "Sometimes they're just for decoration, but other times, they're used to send a message. There's this whole language of flowers—what they mean, what they symbolize."
Optimus tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on her. She could tell he was listening, even though his optics dimmed as if the effort of staying awake was already pulling at him.
"These roses," she continued, brushing her fingers lightly over one of the petals, "they're white. White roses can mean a lot of things—purity, reverence, new beginnings—but they're also given as a sign of respect, or even to honor someone."
He didn't say anything for a long moment, his optics flickering as if the words were slowly sinking in. Then, finally, he spoke.
"You thought… of all this," he murmured, his tone almost disbelieving.
"Well, yeah," Sarah replied softly. "You deserve a little kindness, Optimus. More than you know."
He seemed touched, though at a loss for how to respond. His massive hand shifted slightly, as if he wanted to reach for the vase but thought better of it. Instead, he turned his gaze back to her, his voice a faint whisper.
"...Tell me about the white roses."
The question caught her off guard, the vulnerability in it tightening her chest. She knelt down beside the berth, so she was closer to his level, and began to tell him about the flower language. She spoke about the different colors, their meanings, and why white roses seemed to fit him so perfectly. As she spoke, his optics slowly dimmed, his massive frame settling further into the berth as sleep overtook him once again.
She stayed there for a moment after he drifted off, watching the faint glow of his spark pulse faintly beneath his chest. The roses seemed so small beside him, so fragile compared to the towering being they were meant for. But somehow, they felt right.
As Sarah finally stood and left the barn, she glanced back one last time. The vase of white roses sat beside him, a quiet testament to everything he had given and everything he still deserved.
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