His engine purred softly beneath you as they cruised down the familiar road, the warm hues of the Vermont sky casting golden reflections on the windshield.
"He's loyal," He said quietly, the hum of the road beneath them grounding the moment. "The kind of man who holds memories tighter than time itself. He watched you grow… and he still sees the little Rosie bird you once were."
Then, just a touch of that younger Prime smirk crept into his voice—gentle, teasing:
"And apparently, he approves of my 'charming' design. I should've cleaned my armor before we met him."
The silence that followed felt soft, companionable. He let it linger for a moment before continuing, a bit more thoughtful:
"You have people who care, even if they're few. That means something, Rosamund. Don't ever underestimate how far that kind of bond can reach."
Then with a lighter chuckle:
"Now... let's feed that rebel stomach of yours before it stages a second uprising." Pause.
"Do you want comfort food or something strong enough to make you forget what decade you're in?"
"No, just a nearby coffee shop will do. I'll grab some food.."
"A nearby coffee shop it is," He rumbled in agreement, his wheels already guiding the off the quiet mountain roads toward the nearest sign of civilization.
As they neared a quaint café nestled just off the roadside, he slowed down and parked in a spot that gave you easy access without drawing attention.
"Go on, Rosie bird. I'll be here—pretending to be inconspicuous. As only a fifteen-foot-tall alien truck can."
A gentle hum pulsed through the dashboard as if he was smiling behind the steel.
"Bring back something sweet. I'm told sarcasm burns a lot of energy."
She goes speechless hearing an alien truck is more sassy than everyone she knew. The dashboard blinked softly in reply, and his voice came through like a calm breeze tinged with playful thunder.
The engine gave a soft, teasing rev, not out of impatience, but like a laugh rumbling deep within a chest of armor. They stopped in some small coffee shop with a lot of windows. She guessed people in Vermont really enjoyed the unpolluted breeze. The coffee shop and the owner's house are built side by side.
Optimus parked not far from there close enough. There are just a few customers sipping coffee outdoors. She could see the waitress, maybe the owner. She's heavily pregnant, maybe almost due.
"Hey there miss...nice truck!" One of the customer greeted her before she enter
She smile "Yeah, you're the second person who told me that"
"You get that from Auction or what?" The old man asked her again. She took a glance at Optimus, stayed still, he must be enjoying this, she thought.
"Uh it's more like the truck came to me." She said
"Hahaha, that's what a car lover will say, you have a good taste in a handsome car" She couldn't do anything but smile.
On the other hand, Optimus remained parked, still and composed—just another piece of finely tuned metal under the morning sun. But inside his circuits? No one know.
"Handsome car, huh?" He muttered.
He let the humans enjoy their moment. His frame reflected the sky, calm and unassuming, but his sensors were wide open—always alert, always scanning. He could see her through the shop windows, sunlight tracing her silhouette as she approached the counter.
"Hi there, what do you want, Dear...?" The pregnant lady owner greeted her.
"Uh can I have a–"
"Ugh..."
Before she could finish her sentence, the woman in front of her screeched. She looks surprised and aching. The floor was wet.
"I think my water broke..." She said, holding her own belly, and slouching.
"What?!" Rosie surprised
Everyone was panicking, even the customers outside started to enter. She could see Optimus from the window remain still.
He watched through the wide windows as panic spread like wildfire. His optics narrowed slightly. He saw the moment the woman clutched her belly and the way her eyes darted—sharp, instinctive, trained.
"Okay Ma'am, I'm a nurse, don't worry, I'll check a little, and keep breathing" She instructed.
She put her hand under the lady hem skirt, feeling the baby is already on its way, she even can feel the baby's hair. There will be no time to go to the hospital.
"She's already in labor..." She informed the husband who stood there panicking.
"Can you do something?" The husband asked, trembling.
She sighs, She just wants a sandwich.
"Alright move her to the bedroom..." She said.
She shocked her head "Sir, you–yes you, the one who's asking about my truck. Grab some warm water, take it to the bedroom, and you, the other gentlemen, please call an ambulance now!"
The simple -grab a sandwich event- turned into labor chaos.
From where he sat, parked in plain sight, he watched her shift into command like a seasoned captain boarding her ship mid-storm. His spark hummed.
"Look at you…" He murmured.
They're really in a hurry, the husband even forgets to close the curtain, so still can see Optimus parked there from the bedroom window. She shook, look at the lady in labor right into her eyes.
"Okay, Mommy, you need to breathe, deep and long, inhale exhale...don't push, we don't want you to get hurt. The baby is on its way. It will find the way, you don't need to worry, breathe, breathe...breathe...You can do it Mommy, you can do it..."
From the stillness outside, he could hear her voice—steady, soothing, full of that human magic he'll never quite understand and then he refocused—scanning frequencies, listening for the ambulance sirens, ready to shift into protector mode at the slightest tremor.
"Did I just shit myself..? Ugh...Huh...huh..." The lady was screaming from the bedroom.
"No, don't worry about shit, I've seen so much worse. You almost did it, keep breathing!" She said,
"It's almost there, it's almost there... Okay, when I say push, I want to exhale and push, in one blow okay, okaaaay...Push!" and she pushed, one big push, the baby slipped, looking confused for two seconds due to its new environment. Then snap! A big big cry—flooding the house and the coffee shop next to it.
"It's a healthy and beautiful baby girl..." She handed the baby to the mother so the baby could feel her Mommy's touch for the first time.
"Thank you, thank you so much..." she cried and held the baby... "I didn't even know your name, Miss..."
"No problem, Ma'am..." She help her to clean up for a bit.
The door gave a gentle chime behind her as she stepped out. He watched her with quiet reverence, sitting there like a war hero after battle, breath shallow, shirt wrinkled, and a bit of sweat still clinging to her brow. The husband came to her and gave his gratitude also a big bag of food and coffee.
The window caught her reflection—eyes tired, belly growling louder than a diesel engine… and still, she smiled.
Not long after—
"The husband handed me a big bag of sandwich and Pie, water, a big cup of coffee..." She smiled. Optimus hummed low and approvingly, the sound of his engine rumbling like a purr.
"Ah... now that is the gratitude of the truly moved. And well-deserved, if you ask me."
His tone softened, warm with pride as he watched she cradle the paper bag like it was a crown jewel.
"Let's head back to New York..."
They drive in silence for a while, she eats the sandwich and pie. It feels like the best sandwich she ever road unfurled ahead of them, golden and quiet, the hum of his engine steady and calm beneath her. The countryside rolled past like a slow-moving dream, as if time itself was catching its breath after everything they'd just faced.
He let the silence stretch again, giving space for peace to settle between them.
"Autobots and Decepticons, is that like a race in the human world, you kept talking about them?" She broke the silence with a question.
The wheels hummed steadily beneath them, but his voice took a softer, more contemplative tone—like someone explaining a wound that had long since scarred, but never truly healed.
"Not exactly a race… more like factions. We are all Cybertronians—born of the same world, the same creators. Once, we were one people. Unified."
He paused, the weight of history folding between his words.
"But over time… ideology divided us."
"The Autobots believed in freedom, choice, in protecting all sentient life. The Decepticons believed in strength, order, and conquest. They were forged in the mines, treated as lesser… and so, they rose up."
A faint vibration ran through the steering wheel, like a subtle shiver of memory.
"At first, their fight had purpose. A revolution. But their leader… Megatron... he changed. The cause became ambition. Peace became war. And I… I stood against him."
He shifted slightly on the road, as if adjusting to the weight of the past and the present in the same breath.
"So no, not a race. A choice. One that has defined us for millennia."
Then, with a side glance through the mirror, a flicker of dry amusement lit his voice again.
"Kind of like your world's political parties… but with more explosions and less paperwork."
"You mean Megatron, the Megatron that was buried under the ice here? on earth?"
His engine gave a low, thoughtful rumble—like a sigh translated into a machine—and his voice lowered just enough to match the gravity of her question.
"Yes. That Megatron." There was no drama in the way he said it. Just weight.
"In my universe, when the war turned against him, he chased power beyond Cybertron. He sought the AllSpark—our source of life, our creator's legacy. But the cube vanished, scattered across the stars."
He slowed slightly, as if his words were shifting gears along with them.
"He traced its energy to your world… to Earth. But the journey—" his voice darkened slightly, "—cost him. His ship crashed. He never reached the cube. Instead, he was entombed in your Arctic ice... frozen in stasis."
A pause, then a quieter tone, reverent almost, when he looked her way again.
"Your great-grandfather wasn't just brave… he altered the course of history by choosing silence. If Megatron had awoken then… before we arrived... your species may not have survived."
The wind whispered past her window. And then, with a softer tilt of tone, almost like a nudge:
"Ironic, isn't it? The one buried… was the one who always wanted to rule from above."
He glanced again through the mirror, gaze catching for hers half a breath.
"And now you… born from a line that kept that secret. The universe really does love its symmetry, Rosamund."
"So what happened on the other earth? Is Megatron awake?" The tires hummed low against the road as he processed your question, the answer heavy with the memory of war.
"Eventually… yes." His tone was grave, laced with a past he carried like armor.
"Humans found him by accident. Archibald Witwicky… activated something when he touched Megatron. A chain reaction. It didn't wake him immediately, but it started a countdown." He shifted gears gently, as if even the road deserved quiet when they spoke of things like this.
"When he was finally awakened… It was chaotic. Destruction followed him like a shadow. Cities burned. Lives were lost. He wanted the AllSpark, and he would've razed your world to get it." A pause. Then he added, quietly:
"We stopped him. At great cost. Many of my comrades fell. Including Jazz. Bumblebee was nearly torn apart. But… humanity stood with us. That made the difference." he glanced at her again, softer this time.
"And here… on this Earth, he's still beneath the ice. Still dreaming of domination. But your grandfather's lie… your father's silence… your legacy… kept that nightmare buried."
Then with a subtle hum of admiration, he added:
"Seems like the Den Riehms have been saving the world long before you arrived, Rosie Bird."
His voice dipped into something close to a smile.
"Good thing they made you the next chapter."
It looked like even after a long explanation, Rosie still had many questions.
"On the other earth did you find the descendants too, like me? You said my Grandpa altered the history in place of Captain Archibald Witwicky. Since the other earth was Archibald who activated Megatron, did you find his descendants too?" He took a deep breath, the road unfolding like an ancient map he had long since walked.
"Yes, we did." His voice became thoughtful, reflecting on the strange coincidences of fate.
"On the other Earth, Archibald's descendants were... different. They were part of the same struggle, yes. But while your family remained in the shadows, quietly guiding events, the Witwickys took a more direct role in the conflict. They were fighters, leaders, strategists. They stood alongside us, but their connection to the AllSpark, to Megatron, was much more personal." His gaze drifted for a moment, as if searching for a distant memory.
"Their bloodline carried a burden. Much like you... a legacy of decisions made long before their birth, choices they never asked for. Some of them, like Sam Witwicky, were key to the battle against the Decepticons. They played pivotal roles, and in the end... They helped us turn the tide. But they were always more in the public eye, more exposed to the danger." He shifted in his seat, letting the sound of the engine fill the silence before continuing.
"But here... in this world... you. Your family. It's different. It's quieter. Almost as though your grandfather's decision to step in for Captain Witwicky created a branch, a whole new path. A hidden one."
He looked at her then, his tone softer.
"And that's why you're so important now, Rosie. You're part of a story that was almost erased. A thread in the tapestry of both worlds. You have the strength of your ancestors, but you also carry the weight of their decisions."
There was a long, steady pause as he let the truth of that settle.
"We didn't know about your family on the other Earth. You were a whisper, a possibility. But now, we know the story isn't finished yet. And it's your turn to decide how it ends."
He leaned forward, his voice softening with respect.
"Your grandfather made sure Megatron stayed hidden. And now, it's up to you to keep it that way."
"When you arrived here, have you tried to—I don't know, find this Sam Witwicky? I mean how do you end up on my window in the alley?"
He let out a low chuckle, as if remembering something a bit too ridiculous for words.
"Ah, Rosie, you're always thinking ahead."
His tone shifting back to something more serious, though there was an undercurrent of a smile in it.
"When I arrived, I did try to track down any known connections. I've searched for anyone with a bloodline tied to the Witwickys, or someone with an affinity for the Autobots. Sam was living a different life in this universe." He said.
"I think, if I carry this fate on this earth, I think Sam will have a different fate too... It's like a passing role, and it's altered because my Grandpa chose to not expose Megatron." She understand
He nodded slowly, understanding the weight of her words, his optics dimming in thought.
"Yes, exactly," he said, his voice soft yet heavy with the weight of everything that had been said.
"It's like the path diverged. Your grandfather's choice to shield Megatron from the world—it altered the course of history. In a sense, Sam's fate, and the fate of his descendants, were never written the same way here. You're carrying a legacy of decisions made long before you were born, just like Sam was in his own world."
Silence for a moment.
"What do you think happened to you, in this world? The other Optimus Prime?"
He drive in silence for a moment, the hum of the engine filling the space between them as he mulled over her question. The idea of another version of himself, in a world he didn't fully understand, was a thought both familiar and strange. His systems ran through possibilities, but ultimately, there was no definitive answer, only a heavy uncertainty.
"In another world, another me... I can only imagine what choices I might have made," He said thoughtfully, his voice more reflective than usual. "Perhaps in this world, I did what was needed to protect my people, but without the influence of your grandfather's choices. Or perhaps, we took different paths—paths that might have led to different results."
He paused, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, his optics dimming slightly as if deep in contemplation.
"In this world, I'm here, working with you... trying to protect humanity from the same dangers that have followed us for so long. But in another reality, I could be lost in the chaos. Perhaps I failed. Or maybe, just maybe, I succeeded in saving the world the way it was meant to be. In every world, we make choices, Rosie, but it's the people we choose to fight for that truly shape us."
He turned slightly, as if catching her gaze, though his expression remained steady and solemn.
"What happened to the other Optimus? I don't know. But I know this—if that version of me had any understanding of what we face, I hope he made the choice to protect, to care. As I do now."
His voice softened, as if he were trying to reassure both her and himself.
"But we can't know what happened there, Rosie. All we can control is this moment. And for now, I will protect you. No matter what comes next."
Then when she looked up to the sky, about to think, she saw a few meteor-like objects in the middle of the day, about to fall not far from them, about a few miles.
"Oh God, what now?!" She yelled.