Chapter Text
For a long time now, I have suspected that the feelings I harbor for you—the being who somehow became the center of my every thought—were perhaps not merely those of respect. However, it was in the midst of war that I truly realized the depth of my feelings, and I knew that confessing them to you then would have been nothing more than a burden and a weight. I was certain you would refuse me. So, I told myself that even if I were to be rejected, it must happen only after we had achieved our goal. On the day the war ended, the Autobots stood victorious, and peace finally returned to Cybertron.
Now that everything we ever wanted has been realized, I intend to tell you the truth. But I do not know how to speak the words of a romantic. I don’t know how to convey this. There was always so much I wanted to say to you, but now... I don’t know what words are enough to make you understand.
It sounds strange, I know, but do you know why the scent of the oil I use has remained the same for millions of years? Long ago, you praised me just once; you said you liked that fragrance. The shop that sold that specific blend naturally vanished in the fires of war, but even then, I managed to uncover the formula so I could continue wearing it. You always told me I smelled pleasant. You said that the scent of acrid smoke and firearms never seemed to cling to me.
Why did those words make my spark race so? That simple comment was sweeter than any praise or professional recognition you ever gave me. If I had known I could find such joy in something so trivial, I would have tried harder to discover more of the things you liked. But after you became Prime, it seemed your only desires were grand things like Autobot victory and galactic peace. So, I thought that perhaps when this war finally ended, you might finally truly see me. I thought that if all this were over, and if you finally acknowledged that my logic and strategies were what brought us victory... then maybe you would look back at me.
I took it for granted that you would be alive when it was all over. I thought that you, who acted as though you had sacrificed everything to the war, and I could return to how we were and spend a time of peace together. I wanted to confess my heart to you, and even if you didn't accept me, I wanted to tell you how much I have loved you, cast off the weight of it, and live my life. It would have been better with you, of course, but I was prepared to bless you regardless of the life you chose, as long as you were happy. Whether it was with Jazz, or Bumblebee, or Ratchet... even if it were Megatron, as long as you weren't left to live in loneliness, I was content to remain somewhere in your orbit, helping you. You deserve a happy life. I thought you knew that. I thought it was so obvious that you couldn't possibly be unaware of your own worth.
And yet, you chose the one path I find most difficult to accept.
I had braced myself to endure anything as long as you were happy after the war, and yet you chose to stay there, all alone. Is it not cold there? You were always so cold and hungry. Is it alright there? I hope you no longer suffer from a lack of Energon. I hope you have finally found peace. If you are happy, then I suppose I should be glad. But I wanted, at the very least, to be by your side. You didn't even have to love me; simply being there for you was enough for me. But in the end, you would not even permit me that.
Truly, until the very end, nothing between us ever goes the way I want.
Still, I love you. And that is why I loved you.
***
A small toy truck beeped and scurried along, doing its best to keep up with Prowl’s stride. Many people passed by without noticing the tiny vehicle, causing it to tremble its chassis in effort as it chased after him. Prowl scanned the crowded streets of Iacon and, deciding it was too much for the little one, reached down his hand.
"Come here."
The toy truck transformed, shifting back into a small sparkling with a red chest plate and blue legs, and tucked itself into Prowl’s white hands. Now able to view the city comfortably from Prowl’s arms, the child grew excited, constantly reaching out small hands to point at things while emitting happy beeps. Whenever the sparkling grew excited, something pulsed with a blue light behind the glass of his chest.
"You were so quiet at home... I suppose I should take you out more often," Prowl thought. But it’s still dangerous. If people ever found out who he was... if they tried to take him away again... Prowl pulled the sparkling tighter against his chest at the horrific thought.
"We've seen enough for today. Let's go back."
As if sensing Prowl’s worry, the sparkling’s spirit dampened. He let out a low whistle and leaned his body obediently against Prowl.
After Optimus died, Prowl had vanished without a word, only to return one day with a small sparkling in his arms. The sparkling’s appearance and the light of the Matrix glowing within that small frame allowed others to guess his identity, but Prowl merely explained that the child was his own sparkling and named him Optronix.
"You may call him Orion. He prefers it if you use a nickname," Prowl said as he introduced the child to his friends. The sparkling smiled brightly and waved. Prowl pointed toward Jazz, Ironhide, and Ratchet and spoke to the child.
"If anything should ever happen to me, entrust yourself to these three. Do not trust anyone else."
The sparkling’s optics went wide. "Beep?" he chirped, sounding puzzled, but he looked into Prowl’s optics and nodded.
Nothing really changed. Upon his return, Prowl buried himself in work, and his relationship with his friends remained strained. The only differences were that a sparkling was now constantly glued to Prowl’s side, and Prowl no longer lived solely for work while refusing recharge and Energon. While Prowl worked, the sparkling would play quietly with data-pads or watch Prowl with fascinated curiosity. Prowl didn't like being interrupted, yet he wouldn't allow the sparkling to leave his sight. If the child strayed even a little, Prowl’s temper would flare. Though he would soften as soon as the sparkling chirped an apology, Prowl’s behavior was clearly overprotective. Perhaps because of this, the sparkling lacked the typical rowdiness of others his age.
Occasionally, people would approach out of curiosity for the sparkling in Prowl’s arms, but Prowl disliked anyone getting close—not just strangers, but even the friends he had told the child to trust. The sparkling was sociable and greeted everyone with happy beeps, but Prowl seemed to dislike even that.
Unable to contain his questions, Jazz eventually asked, "Do you hate sharing Orion with the world that much?"
"Of course I do."
If he could, Prowl would have kept the sparkling locked away forever on the planet where he first found him. He wanted him to grow up knowing nothing of Cybertron or other lifeforms, looking only at him. But he knew he couldn't keep Orion bound to his hands forever. If they lived on a deserted planet where Orion relied only on him, knowing nothing, what would happen if destiny suddenly thrust itself upon him again? Could he protect him then?
"...You can't keep him in your arms forever. You can't just keep pretending you don't know who he is—"
Jazz looked down at the sparkling who, unaware of the tension, was splashing his hands in a bowl of blue Energon juice. He looked at Optimus, who had returned to this state.
"I know exactly who he is." Prowl’s optics flashed with a cold light.
"Optimus is Optimus. You can't stop that just by denying it."
"Watch your mouth," Prowl snapped. The sparkling, who had been playing with his ration of Energon, looked up at Jazz and Prowl with round, startled optics.
"It’s nothing, little friend," Jazz said with a smile, soothing the startled sparkling. He reached out a finger and poked the child’s cheek, prompting a small pip!
"You should be very aware of what you're doing, Prowl," Jazz said as he stood to leave. The sparkling reached out a hand, looking disappointed. Prowl carefully wiped the child’s hands and gently turned his face toward his own.
"Don't worry. I will always be by your side."
The world was at peace now. Surely, Optimus being reborn as a sparkling didn't necessarily mean he was destined for another sacrifice. Perhaps it was simply a happy miracle granted to him—a gift to allow him to live a life of ordinary happiness in a peaceful world. Prowl was capable of giving Orion everything he needed to be happy. He had the ability and the power. As long as the world didn't try to take him away again, Prowl could give him anything.
"I will give you the world."
He would give him everything, so that the world could never take him back.
As Prowl leaned down to rest his forehead against the sparkling’s, the child let out a happy beep! and gave Prowl a brilliant smile.