This is the night after the CIA Agents and the white roses.

The darkness of the barn was thick and still, the only sound the faint hum of Optimus's systems running on low power, trying to preserve what little energy he had. The world outside had fallen silent, and inside, everything seemed to hold its breath. It had been hours since he had last seen Sarah, and he had hoped for a few more hours of peace, but his spark, ever fragile, betrayed him again.

The first pang was a subtle one—a pressure in his chest, like a faint ache deep in his core. He was used to the feeling, having lived with it for so long now, but that didn't make it any less terrifying each time. His spark, failing bit by bit, sending shockwaves through his system. He could feel it pulsing, erratic and irregular, threatening to fade entirely if not tended to soon.

Please, Primus, not tonight.

His first instinct was to call out for Will. Will Lennox, his trusted friend, his brother in arms, had been there ever since his spark began to falter—pressing a steadying hand to his chest, applying counter pressure until the worst passed. Will had seen him at his most vulnerable, understood him in ways few ever had. And yet tonight, Will was not here.

For a long moment, Optimus lay still, the pulse of his spark growing stronger, more insistent, and painful with each beat, strangled groans echoing deep inside his throat. He could feel the edges of his consciousness beginning to waver. Without Will here, he felt all but forsaken.

And then, he heard footsteps.

Sarah.

She appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim light from the barn's entrance. Her presence brought a comfort that he hadn't known he needed.

"I—I heard you," she said softly, her voice thick with concern.

He didn't know how to respond, how to ask her for something so intimate, so fragile. It was one thing for Will to be there—someone who had fought by his side, who understood his struggles, who had become more than just an ally. Will had been there for so long that the idea of leaning on him had become natural. But Sarah…

He had never expected this. She wasn't obliged to him. She was a civilian, a wife, a mother, far removed from the horrors that had defined his life.

But she didn't hesitate. Without a word, Sarah moved to him, her steps quick and purposeful, though he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. The uncertainty that was so foreign to him, yet somehow made her decision to help him all the more significant.

She climbed onto the edge of his berth, her hands reaching for the thick plates of his chest. With surprising gentleness, she pressed herself against him, feeling the weight of her own body settle into the spaces where Will's hands had often been.

The pressure on his chest was immediate, though not enough. His spark was still unstable, still fluttering in its fragility, threatening to tear him apart.

"Sarah..." His voice broke, and the pain was almost too much to bear.

She didn't pull away. Instead, she pressed harder, shifting her body weight to apply more counter pressure, her own breath quickening as she struggled to meet the intensity of what he was going through.

For a moment, Optimus was lost—lost in the sheer weight of the vulnerability he felt, the sharp contrast between his body's failure and the unexpected softness of Sarah's presence. She didn't pull back when it got hard. She didn't falter. She stayed.

And that, in itself, was a kind of mercy. A gift.

He had doubted his decision to bring the Autobots to Earth many times. The war had stretched on for so long, and humanity—at least, the humans he had encountered—had proven to be a wild, unpredictable force. They were fragile, selfish, capable of incredible violence and cruelty. How could he trust that they would stand by them, when the cost of their choices was so great?

But in this moment, as Sarah's small body pressed against his failing chest, offering herself to him in this way, Optimus felt something he had not felt in a long time. Hope.

It wasn't the kind of hope that came with grand gestures or promises of victory. It wasn't the hope that came from his status as a Prime or the weight of the Autobot cause. This was different. It was the kind of hope that came from simple, human connection—the kind that reached across all the pain and uncertainty and said, I am here.

She stayed with him all night.

Sarah didn't leave when his spark struggled again, didn't leave when the worst passed and he began to drift into unconsciousness. She stayed through the darkness, her steady presence the only thing grounding him to the world.

It wasn't until the morning light began to filter in that Optimus finally slipped into a deeper rest, the pain in his chest fading as his spark regained its rhythm. But even then, he could feel her warmth against him, feel the steady beat of her heartbeat beneath her ribs.

And he knew—he knew in that moment—that despite everything, despite all the doubts and fears he had carried for so long, he had made the right choice.

The Autobots were here for a reason. The humans were here for a reason.

And this, right now, was the reason. He had made the right decision.

~0~

When Will walked into the barn the next morning, having just returned from his overnight trip, he immediately noticed the quiet that hung in the air, a stark contrast to the usual hum of activity. It was as if time itself had slowed down, the tension of the past few days weighing heavily in the space. His heart clenched when he saw Sarah, sitting beside Optimus, her hand resting gently on his massive chest. Optimus was barely conscious, his systems still recovering from the spark attack that had rattled him the night before.

He didn't have to guess at what had happened.

Sarah looked up as he entered, her tired eyes meeting his. Without a word, she leaned into him, allowing herself to collapse against his chest, seeking the comfort of his warmth. Will instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they both took a moment to absorb the gravity of their situation.

"I didn't expect you to be back so soon," Sarah murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion, but also something softer, something deeper—an understanding, a connection with the immense being lying before them. "But I'm glad you are."

Will pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hand gently caressing her back. "How's he doing?"

"He's still weak," she replied, her voice quiet but full of care. "He's been talking in his sleep… or... maybe not sleep, just... drifting in and out." Her voice faltered slightly, the weight of the past hours hanging heavily on her. "He… he murmured Elita's name over and over."

She paused for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. "He kept calling for her like she was still here."

Will nodded, a heavy sadness settling over him as he processed Sarah's words. He had always known Optimus was burdened with loss, but to hear it spoken aloud, to see the reality of it unfold in such an intimate way—it still made his heart ache. He had heard Optimus do it before, too.

"I know, Sarah. I know." Will's voice was low, a comforting presence in the overwhelming silence that had followed their revelation. "But you did all the right things. I am sure he didn't expect that you would do this much for him."

Sarah gave him a small, weary smile, nodding against his chest. As much as Will's words reassured her, she still couldn't shake the image of Optimus, barely holding on, his spark flickering dimly as it struggled to stay alive.

"The poor dear talked about us too," she continued, her voice softening. "Muttered something about how lucky he is to have the Lennox family looking out for him in his final days. It broke me a little, Will. He's so... vulnerable right now. He's always been so strong, and now—" She shook her head, her hand trembling slightly as she reached out to gently touch Optimus's massive arm. "Now he's just… a shell of himself. I'm not sure what he needs anymore."

Will glanced down at Optimus, his expression unreadable but filled with a quiet determination. Optimus had been their leader for so long, and now, as he struggled with his failing spark and the weight of his memories, it felt like a duty to protect him just as much as it was to protect their family.

"We'll figure it out," Will said firmly. "He'll need more care than we can give him on our own. I know he plans to send for Bumblebee. I imagine that will be sooner rather than later now. I don't know how much time we have left, but we're going to make sure Optimus isn't alone. Not ever again."

The words hung in the air between them, unspoken promises that neither could break. Sarah leaned into him once more, feeling the weight of the burden they had both silently accepted.

Anyway, that's probably all for tonight.