Chapter Text
Another city had fallen; and within its ruins stood a giant.
He looked out towards the wreckage of Metalon Center, his vents letting out a sigh. His fellow autobots had already left the scene, but Optimus Prime couldn’t bring himself to, not yet. His optics wandered around the piles of metals and soot in a desperate attempt to find any logic behind this slaughter. Well, certainly there was reason, the strategic advantage it gave the Decepticons was too great to ignore, as it made it the path toward the Autobot base that was much more accessible; but to what end would this utter destruction lead to? All these limbs separated from their torso. All these faceplates, unidentifiable by the scars and holes torn through them. All these bodies that now lacked a spark.
He wanted to start gathering, to give these bots their final rest in a proper send-off, but he couldn’t. The prime promised the others he’d get back in a less than a breem, and he already spent most of it wallowing in his own grief. He thought himself as selfish that he had the luxury to do so.
Though, maybe he had time for one.
Optimus started to lift the rubble off of the closest body he could find. This one was crushed under the debris of an explosion, half his body burnt off. If Optimus could guess it was quick, but it wasn’t pretty or painless. He started to clean what grossness he could off the metal, set his dislocated arm back into its correct position, and tilted the head to a more natural angle. The bot already looked better, but he wasn’t done. All he needed to do now was find a resting spot. He looked around at the other dead bodies. This place simply wouldn’t do.
He carried the bot off towards the southwestern wall of the city. It had seen the least amount of destruction purely by its lack of inhabitants or buildings, only a couple of old, abandoned living quarters. In this section, there was a plot of unused land that, compared to the rest of the city, looked like a haven. He didn’t have anything to rest him in; they were too high up from any levels with dirt, and there wasn’t anything nearby that worked as a suitable coffin, so the body was gently laid on top of the plating, looking up at the stars that shone brilliantly.
The prime didn’t know if this was any better, but it was too late to do anything about it, his comms were already buzzing.
“Optimus, plannin’ on coming back anytime soon?” Ironhide’s voice emitted from the speaker.
“I’m returning now.”
“Roger that. Elita’s looking for you once you get here.”
“Let her know I am on my w-”
Bang!
Optimus shot up, weapon in hand before he could even think about it. He scanned his surroundings but found nothing other than a fallen over sheet of metal by a wall.
“Optimus? You okay?”
That sheet of metal wasn’t there before.
“Yes. Yes, just tell her I shall be there soon.”
He turned off his comms and slowly inched towards the source of the sound. There was an alleyway right beside it, the only way the perpetrator might have gone. He looked this way far too fast for them to wrap around the wide buildings’ walls, and he didn’t hear any engines take off. Even if they were stealth, it was too close for him not to notice anything.
Trash littered the backstreet, plenty that any minicon could hide under easily.
“Show yourself.” Optimus’ voice echoed with more boom than he was attempting. Even after millenia it was hard to get used to.
Nothing moved, so he started to get to work. He turned on one of his lights and started to shift the garbage and scrap around with his feet, making sure his blaster was ready in case of an ambush. Ravage was Optimus’ immediate assumption based on his size, and if that was the case he couldn’t let his guard down for a micro-klick. He has seen what that cassette does to bots.
He was getting to the last bits of wall, starting to think that maybe that sheet was always there, when he heard a beep from a nearby pile. Before the offender could escape, Optimus pulled back the trash and pointed his gun at:
A sparkling.
Frag.
Optimus’ gun fell to the ground, causing the already shaking child to jump in fear, though he didn’t move from his position. His body was facing the wall, servos covering his helm, which was turned just enough so that one optic lens could peek from his arms and look at Optimus, wide and unmoving.
The prime slowly lowered himself, hands up in a surrender. The little one backed himself further into the corner.
“It’s okay, you are safe.” Optimus attempted to put his servo forward but pulled it back when the little one just curled into himself and started beeping what must have been cries for help. “I will not hurt you, I promise.”
He didn’t listen, which wasn’t a complete surprise given his age, and the beeps started to crescendo. This wouldn’t have been as much of a problem if Optimus didn’t hear jet engines overhead.
What was that thing that someone told him forever ago, before the war? Some tidbit about sparklings? He didn’t even remember who he heard it from, those times were so foggy to him now.
The sounds of obnoxious whining started to encroach.
Optimus, in a sudden epiphany, retracted his mask. It felt strange and weirdly vulnerable, but a little nostalgic at the same time. The giant did his best to smile, trying to recall a long forgotten softness, at the child, who had stopped crying in order to stare, registering this new face. “I’ll protect you.”
This time, the shaking was from relief as the youngling wobbled over to Optimus, who caught him before he fell and brought him up towards his chest.
There was no way they were going to get out of here without the seekers finding them. He turned off his light and started to move the scrap with his one free hand in hopes of creating some sort of cover. Together, they waited, Optimus using one hand to comfort the little helm that fit into his hand, the other to point his blaster towards the opening.
A clanking of footsteps stomped around outside, followed by two more. “This job isn’t befitting of us seekers. As if we’re no more than-than mere cargo planes!” Starscream cried as he came into frame, inspecting the body that Optimus had rested upon the ground. “Junk like this isn’t worth our time.” He ripped out the previously readjusted arm, accidentally breaking off part of the joint. He shrugged and slung it over his shoulder. “The constructicons would be more suited to a scavenging job anyways. I mean, soon I will be Megatron’s second in command and after that… who knows-” The jet let out an ugly giggle as he walked away, not even glancing towards the alley, mumbling the last bit, “- maybe Megatron will be the one picking up scrap.”
The trio of seekers entered an argument as they left the scene, finding nothing of value or interest beside the one good arm. For the first time since picking the youngling up, Optimus let air out of his vents again. He looked down to see the yellow sparkling staring up at him, fear now replaced with curiosity as he started to reach up towards the prime’s face. “Yes?” The elder chuckled before almost having a spark attack when the younger almost fell trying to climb up Optimus’ chest.
“Careful now.” He didn’t have much experience with Sparklings, but he didn’t think they had such trouble with movement. Usually, they’re even more dexterous than adult bots due to their light weight and newly developed joints. “Are you hurt?”
The little one chirped as he tumbled around in Optimus’ arms in order to put his pedes directly into the prime’s faceplate.
They were a little dented and scratched, some of it even making its way up his leg, but it wasn’t anything Ratchet couldn’t fix.
There was one problem: Optimus wasn’t sure he could safely carry the child while effectively protecting him. Now that he was more comfortable, the sparkling was wiggling a lot in his grasp, and he’d need both hands to make sure he didn’t fall, but then he couldn’t have his blaster out in case of emergency.
As if he could hear his thoughts, the child started to touch the windows on Optimus’ chest and pulled on its edges with no success.
He considered the idea. It would keep him safe and hide him from prying eyes, at least more so than carrying him in his arms.
The prime grabbed the edge and pulled it open with little effort, if he opened the chamber any further it would have revealed his matrix, but for now only a metal wall blocked its path out.
As if he’d done this before, the sparkling tumbled his way in, adjusting himself into a comfortable position. A perfect fit.
Slowly, in case the little one changed his mind, Optimus closed the doors. He was met with no resistance, in fact he could feel him relax in there as if at home.
His face mask reappeared on his face. “Don’t worry, little one. I shall get us both to safety.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He turned, and in a flash both Skywarp and Optimus were pointing their blasters at each other.
“What a treat, I get to bring a prime back for scra-” Before the seeker could pull the trigger, he was hurled out of the alleyway. He bounced once on the floor and disappeared entirely.
A sudden pain echoed in the back of Optimus’ head. He didn’t have time to think about it. He pulled down on the Decepticon's leg and shot at the joint, sparks flying out of the newly created hole.
Skywarp groaned as his vents exhaled rapidly. He tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by a heavy leg. There was a pain in his midsection so sharp it dulled out all his other senses. But just as quick as it came, it left, and Skywarp found himself alone in the dark.
—
By the time Optimus got back to base, his processor was throbbing. All he wanted to do was lay down. This, of course, was an unrealistic scenario for a prime like him, because the astro-klick he entered a pink autobot yelled out from the end of the hall, “Optimus!”
Before he could even register her voice, she stood before him, servos on hips with a stern look to her face. “Are you serious? Genuinely, are you serious?” She shook her head. “You should be glad Ratchet’s busy right now or else he would have gone over there and killed you before the decepticons got a chance.”
“Elita, I-”
She grabbed his servo and dragged him into the storage room where no one could hear them (except for everyone directly outside the door, which was now a lot). “Ori- Optimus. I get it. This is a lot, but we need you to focus, these bots depend on you.” She pointed at his chest. “And I j- what’s that?” Her soon to be tangent was cut off when she saw something tapping his chest from the inside . “Is that…”
“Yes, it is a sparkling. I found him in the ruins, I simply couldn’t leave him.”
Elita could hear at least one gasp and a ‘shh!’ from outside the door, but she couldn’t care less right now. “And… and you brought him here?” She took a step back and put a servo to her helm. “Out of all places, a military base?”
“I had nowhere else I could take him.”
That was true, the closest cities were all either destroyed or on lockdown from both autobots and decepticons, for where there was one another was soon to follow. “We need to get him out of here as soon as possible. There’s no telling when we’ll get attacked again.”
“I agree.”
“Okay. Good, good.” She let herself relax for the first time since Optimus turned off his comms. She took a moment to actually look at the child. Small, yellow, inquisitive eyes that studied her face. When he deemed her trustworthy, he smiled and let out a few beeps. She tried her best to reciprocate the grin, but it wasn’t exactly an expression she was used to anymore. “He’s cute.”
Optimus nodded, a hand reaching up to his helm in hopes of smoothing the ache.
Her smile was gone just as quick as it came. “Are you okay?”
“I believe I took a hit, but I am fine.”
She scoffed and walked to the other side of him. He could feel her hand touching a wound as a hiss escaped him. “Sorry.” She let go and he turned to face her. “It’s a dent, Ratchet can fix it quick. Get him-” she pointed at his windows, “-some energon on your way to medbay, we can talk more later.
She started towards the door, but before she pressed the button to open it, “I am sorry, Elita.”
“For what?”
“I fear I have simply put more worry on you.”
“I’d rather have him here than dead on the street.” She exited the room to be met by a swarm who promptly dispersed upon her appearance. “Primus, why is everyone in this faction so nosy!”
Optimus let himself smile under his mask, the youngling in his chest chirping something.
—
The energon storage was on the way to medbay. Unfortunately, there was a lot of hall between Optimus and it, so he spent a long trek with several bots staring at his chest. They weren’t usually this unsubtle about it.
He entered the room. It was one of the biggest of the base, with racks upon racks of bright blue cubes. Only half of them were full and the only bot currently there was Jazz, who was picking up a cube of his own, humming a little tune to himself as he did.
“Jazz.”
The bot jumped, almost hitting his head on a rack, and turned, a grin appearing when he realized who it was. “Optimus! You had us worried there, but I knew there was nothing you ca- Primus, is that a sparkling?” His face shifted very suddenly for a second time. “Is it yours? I didn’t even know you were carrying!” The prime was pretty sure he was joking. Maybe.
“I found him in the rubble. I am going to see Ratchet after this, we’re both a little injured but nothing he can’t fix.”
Jazz nodded and looked back down towards the sparkling, his smile falling for only a micro-klick. “Is he staying here?”
Optimus shook his head. “It is unsafe for him here. We shall find a suitable place for him to stay soon.”
“Makes sense.” Despite the fact that Jazz’s faceplate was towards the child, Optimus felt like he was being studied. “You did the right thing. Don’t let yourself think otherwise, okay?” The musician straightened his back and looked at the other’s face directly this time. “If you ever need help, I’d be glad to. Whatever you need, boss bot.” He held out a small energon cube for Optimus who accepted it.
“I appreciate that, truely.” The sparkling put his arms against the inside of Optimus’ chest and beeped as Jazz left with a wave.
The prime opened his chest cavity and handed the cube over to the youngling who consumed it while settling back into a resting position. “You’re going to have to come out for Ratchet, you know?” He didn’t care, he just kept on munching. Optimus closed his windows and made his way towards medbay.
—
“Do you have any idea how much care a sparkling takes?” Ratchet was in Optimus’ face as soon as the doors opened. “I mean have you ever even been near one?” With his voice still raised, he led the prime to one of the beds and motioned for him to sit down.
Optimus did as instructed. “Good to see you too, old friend. I supposed Elita got to you before I could.” He must have cleared the room because there was not a single other bot in the bay. “She said you were busy, I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Ratchet didn’t even pretend to hear him. “I mean, he’s going to need constant attention when not in recharge. And even if in recharge you need to have someone nearby just in case. He’ll constantly be draining our energy from the amount of stress put on us and the literal energy from our storeroom.” The medic gestured to the child who was still munching on the cube. “Taking care of this child is going to change a lot of things and I simply do not think we’re going to be ready for it.”
“What would you have had me do instead?” Optimus’ voice became low as he tried to push down the rising heat in his circuits. “Leave him to die by decepticon hands?”
“No, I-”
“Or until he ran out of energy alone in the rubble?” ‘Or did you wish I shot him?’ A sudden nausea rose in Optimus at the memory.
“I wanted it to not be you!” Ratchet blurted out just as Optimus felt a sensation akin to his processor exploding. He almost fell over, but the medic rushed to his side and maneuvered him to lay down on the bed. The child started to let out distressed beeps, pressing his face on the glass, trying to get a look at Optimus’ face. “Are you injured?”
“I took a hit to the back of the head. The child has injured pedes.” The medic was already messing with the settings on a scanner.
“You first, then him.” And when Optimus was about to speak, “No compromises. You could have unmendable damage, pedes are easy to patch up.” The bigger bot reluctantly closed his mouth and waited as the scanner lit up.
Ratchet relaxed a little when the screen lit up green, a visual of his internals displayed. “The dent is putting pressure on a circuit but it didn’t damage it, when we fix it you should be good as new.”
He grabbed a device from a drawer and Optimus sat forward. He felt a suction on the back of his head, and with a quick motion the aching was gone. “Thank you, Ratchet.”
“It is my duty. Now, for the youngling.” The prime opened his chest, but the child didn’t move.
“Little one, you must come out so that he can help you.” Optimus’ voice was soft in a way Ratchet had never heard before. Not that he was harsh with the autobots, but he was a steady foundation for them; now, he was as malleable as aluminum.
He tried to forget it while giving the child his best smile, which was just as unfamiliar to Optimus and his voice was to Ratchet. The little one was having none of it and sunk deeper into the cavity, arms and legs crossed and face in a pout.
“At least pull out your pede for us,” The truck coaxed. “The damaged one.” He put an arm towards the opening. Slowly, the child put out a leg, but his servos held tight onto the edge to make ensure that everyone knew he was staying put.
“You’re going to have to stop that before it becomes a habit.” Ratchet looked at Optimus while the scanner did its thing. “He can’t stay in there forever.” Optimus nodded. For now, however, they can allow the child this comfort.
The scanner lit up and the medic considered for a micro-klick. “Some mechanisms are damaged, but nothing too bad. I can disconnect some pain sensors while I do fix it, but I’m worried he’ll get scared and run or retreat back in.”
Optimus put a hand to his chin and contemplated. “I may have someone in mind.”
—
Jazz and Blaster quite literally slid into medbay, a microphone in the former’s hand and a keyboard hanging off the latter’s shoulder.
Jazz hit a pose. “I heard there’s a kid in need of some healin’.”
Nyowwww, Blaster played a note on his board.
“So we’re here to help stop those bad feelin’s!”
Brrrrrrorrrrorrrrrwwweee! A crowd formed outside of medbay, poking their heads in.
“Now listen close, you hear?”
Bzz bzz bzz.
Jazz gave his partner a look. Blaster shrugged, mouthing ‘Just go with it.’
“Cause we’re here-” Jazz went right back into it, “- until the doc gives the all clear!”
Suddenly, the duo started playing a song. It must have been some new wave Cybertronian music because it pierced Optimus’ audial receptors when it started. The beat wasn’t anything he’d heard before, Jazz was singing sounds a voice box never should make, and Blaster’s keys were playing a chaotic blend of noise. Yet, in the way the typical fashion of the pair, they made it work. Several people outside the door cheered and some started to come in, much to Ratchet’s annoyance. Optimus noticed Elita leaning against the door, smiling and nodding her head along as best as she could with the confusing beat. When she caught Optimus’ opticals, she pointed down towards his chest. He looked down to find the youngling watching, totally entranced. He didn’t even notice that part of his leg was open, even when Ratchet put a hand on his shoulder when he was bobbing around too much.
Optimus put a servo on his head, and the youngling looked up with a big smile, trying to mimic some of the sounds with his limited vocal range. The prime let out a laugh and they both sat back to watch the performance as the duo played over the sounds of surgery.
—
“And, done.”
The noise stopped, both Jazz and Blaster feeling as if they were about to fall over. Their vents were working overtime as they made their way to a bed and sat down.
“You could've told us we were going for more than three acts.” Blaster complained as he set the keyboard against the wall. “I haven’t had to improvise that long since… well, I’m not sure.”
The crowd had long since dispersed, off put by the deteriorating quality of sound. All except for Elita, who had patiently waited for the concert to end.
“I didn’t know he’d squirm so much. I think your ‘music’ made it worse.”
Jazz laughed as he waved around an energon cube that Beachcomber brought in the middle of the performance. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it, I saw you nodding along.”
Elita nodded. “I saw it, he was, in fact, ‘jamming.’”
Ratchet’s face flushed blued very briefly as he mumbled half of an excuse towards the wall.
“I’m glad the little one liked it at least, seems like he’s a fan.” Jazz grinned fondly at the little yellow bot, still trying to repeat some of the noises, though with little success
“We have got to find out this kid’s name. We can’t keep calling him epithets.” Blaster put a servo on his chin. “Your scanner didn’t ID him, Ratch?”
“Would adding two more letters kill you?” The medic scoffed, pulling out the scanner again. “Looks like whoever his caretakers were before had a chance to register a name at least. ‘Bumblebee.’”
The red musician stared at Ratchet, brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape.
“What? I mean it’s kinda nonsense but it’s not terrible.”
“No no- I just. I know that word.” He picked up his keyboard and furiously started scrolling on the little screen that sat at the top. “I had this friend before the war, Skyfire. He was an explorational scientist- went off on all kinda far off places, telling stories of everything he’d seen, even got a few samples for me of all the wild sounds out there in the universe. There was this one place he went to, called it the most beautiful planet in any galaxy. It was covered in dirt and plants and animals and, just, life .” He stopped his search for a micro-klick, his optics becoming unfocused as he continued, “He decided to go back, he wanted to learn all about it, but… he never returned.”
The bay became quiet, the only sounds coming from the little bot, humming to himself. Blaster looked up at him, that grin returning with a second wind. “I’ve been using the samples he got me from his first visit. A bumblebee, that was one of them.” Blaster looked at his keyboard and played a familiar buzzing sound from earlier. “Small world, I supposed.”
“Well, maybe that gives us a clue as to where he came from.” Elita considered. “Maybe we can start trying to contact people who knew this Skyfire. If that doesn’t produce anything, maybe other scientists who know his work. Eventually we might find his creators.”
“And if they’re already…” Optimus struggled to finish in front of the ch- Bumblebee.
“There has to be a record around somewhere, especially if he has a name registered. If not, then we can have him brought to the sanctuary on Luna One. I think they have a facility for… similar situations.” Elita also couldn’t say it. She looked at Bumblebee way longer than she should have and he returned the look with a curious tilt of the head, but he still smiled and made his babbles, though at this point they were starting to slow down.
“Then, that will be our plan.” Optimus looked down to see the subject of their conversation yawning, eyes blinking slowly. “For today, we shall rest.” He picked Bumblebee up, laying him on one arm while his free servo closed his chest.
“Wheeljack and I, uh, set something up for you in your quarters.” Elita stammered, looking at the doorway with sudden interest. “Well, mostly Wheeljack. I gave him the idea and some little decorations I had. I hope you two, um, like it.”
Optimus got up from the bed, giving a pat on Ratchet’s shoulders before making his way to her. “I’m sure it’s great.”
She nodded, barely meeting his eyes but a smile forming on her lips.
—
When Optimus arrived in his room, Bumblebee already halfway into unconsciousness in his arms, there was a second bed set up against the wall opposite of his own. It was tiny but clearly made in haste from a bigger one. However, it was still sturdy and extremely cute, with little charms added to the side and a small railing that went around all sides. A little note sat on top.
‘Congrats on the sparkling!’, and under it, written hastily, ‘Apparently they need special beds or something… Don’t ask me.’ Accompanying it was a doodle of Wheeljack giving a thumbs up. Optimus chuckled, placing it on a table nearby.
He then went to the new bed and started to lay Bumblebee down, but the child grabbed onto the sides of grooves that separated the doors of his chest. He thought back to what Ratchet said earlier about it becoming a habit. It seems like it has already become one.
“No, little one, you must recharge on your own.” He tried to pull the little servos from his torso, but he was met with pathetic little cries of beeps. Optimus immediately brought him closer once more and the beeps lessened, though they didn’t stop. “You are certainly persuasive.”
The prime opened his windows once more and placed the little one inside, who adjusted himself to curl against the back wall. “Just, don’t tell Ratchet.” Optimus sat down, one arm on his chest. Soon, the pair were both deep into recharge, the nicest they’d both had in a while.