Chapter Text
Optimus had been trying to remain composed very hard, but with a near disaster they had just recently avoided, his sensory net has been throwing up all kinds of alerts for whatever (or whoever) it deemed a threat.
Right now, apparently, this also included his former friend.
“Well, Optimus…”
The way Sentinel still addressed him with such undeniable disdain, it made his circuitry burn as he kept his servos stiff, gaze forward, dentae gritted hard.
He had thought he had already gotten used to hearing it, accepting it as his penance for the tragedy he had been a part of, even if it had cost him his career, but it seemed that the infrequent contact and a lack of emergency to distract him had been enough for the tone to affect him again - he'd need to build up his immunity to it once more.
He could feel the way his crew was looking at him, confused at the way he had been regarded in front of everyone, looking for guidance to the repeated show of thinly disguised hostility; he could only keep his optics still as he wrestled his attention to keep his systems idle, the alerts making his digits twitchy, so when they all kept quiet, he told himself he would make it up to them later.
They just needed to get through this, and things would go back to normal.
They showed them all that the Decepticons were still around - no matter the circumstances of it, the threat has been confirmed.
Sentinel crossed his arms, leaning closer. “The only thing in your defense is that the Allspark is intact,” he stated, pointing at the forcefield behind them, towards the artifact they had almost died protecting, and let out a laugh, “a miracle, for you not to screw up something this important.”
Optimus heard a hiss from his side, and a sharp noise of an elbow being jabbed into someone's side, cutting it off, and he knew he needed to thank Prowl later.
Sentinel just raised his optical ridge, and smirked at the lack of a verbal follow up, before he turned to place a mocking pat on the bot's shoulder.
“Maybe there will be something out of you yet.”
The motion made his combat system - the one he was doing his best to not engage in this scenario - prompt him to dodge the movement when he struggled against his own glossa, the depreciation lining each of the other's words taking a toll on his ability to keep his thoughts on the inside of his processor.
With this unfortunate combination of factors, his CPU had ended up making a choice with so little logic, the moment the decision was made, he wanted to ask Ratchet for a processor damage assessment - but it was too late.
His shoulder rolled, making the mech's servo glance off his armour with a grace of an inebriated mechanism, while his stupid dermas parted and bit back:
“Strong words from someone who nearly got their head blown off by Starscream, Sentinel, and that’s not even the first time you were at risk of losing even more than that.”
Sentinel didn't appreciate his comment, like usual; he righted himself up quickly, pulling them up chassis to chassis, as he glared at him, chin jutting out.
“You never know when to shut up, don't you, Optimus?” he sneered, optics narrowing.
Optimus didn't flinch at the contact, the challenge making his pedes stand firm; even if he regretted his pride taking over for a moment, getting him into a clash he was never going to win due to his reputation, he didn't speak any falsehood.
Also, apologising would not work on this mech if he tried to back down - he would just twist things around to fit his narrative.
Sentinel waited for any followup, and, lacking one, he just rolled his optics, taking silence as a sign of defeat. “It's obvious my previous assessment was flawed,” he added, grabbing at the bot's helm, twisting the antenna, and said loudly, so all of his team could hear:
“you will never amount to anything.”
Optimus didn't think his pride could cause problems again in such a short succession.
Maybe the lack of thinking was to blame for what was happening, because a moment later, he tore himself away and slammed his forehead right into Sentinel's, knocking him down on his aft.
“You-!” the blue Bot cried out, and was already pulling up his shield, while Optimus felt arms loop around his limbs.
“It's not worth it, bossbot!” Bumblebee, out of them all, fragging Bumblebee was urging him to stand down.
That was the first sign that he was going too far that couldn't be ignored.
The second one came right after, doors swishing open.
Ultra Magnus stood tall at the threshold, hammer in hand, and looked them all over with mild disappointment on his face.
“Everyone, stand down,” he ordered impatiently, walking in flanked by Jazz.
His heavy gaze made Sentinel stop his string of curses, reluctantly lowering the defenses as he walked by to join his superior’s side, linking his servos behind his back.
When they turned to Optimus, the leader of Cybertron tilted his helm a little, and the Prime realised that he was yet to disengage his axe, held at bay by Bulkhead and Prowl.
That was also the moment when his processor decided to bring back some of his common sense.
He rushed to hide the weapon, straightening back to attention under the scrutiny of a Magnus; unlike Sentinel, whose opinion was inconsequential, he respected Ultra Magnus - and thus could only stand there, mortified, as he burned with guilt at presenting such a low quality of character.
The old mech didn't say anything about the situation he had seen, sparing Optimus the humiliation of being scolded for his temper like a fresh cadet - with full validity of the critique, at that.
“Optimus Prime,” Ultra Magnus announced instead, voice firm, “you and your crew are hereby redeployed to your original duty, as was initially intended.”
The words were said with an air of finality, not remotely negotiable yet again, which was why no noise left Prime's vocalizer when his dermas parted, jaw dropping.
Judging by the murmur around him, his crew was equally confused.
Their superior gestured at them, the hammer in his hand tilting. “You have a solar cycle to complete your repairs and we will be expecting you to adhere to a new schedule from there on,” he ordered, glancing towards Jazz who walked closer, a datapad in his hands.
His expression was much more open than their elder, and it was full of pity.
Optimus couldn’t believe what he just heard. “But sir!” he tried to oppose, the years of military hierarchy making the act much more difficult than it was to stand up to Sentinel, who still was seen as a peer, but he couldn’t just leave this planet - granted, the only Decepticon around that had made waves had been Starscream recently, but they still hadn’t found the location of either Blitzwing or Lugnut, and there was also Elita somewhere out there-
“You had done a good job despite it being beyond your station, Optimus,” Ultra Magnus stated, cutting him off, and glanced slowly at the glowing artifact, and back to the mech, “you can rest now - the responsibility for the Allspark is no longer on your shoulders.”
The statement was a slap to the face, and matched with Sentinel’s gleeful grin, the young Prime had to fight the indignation from showing on his face, denying his former colleague the satisfaction.
But, by the Allspark, after what they had seen, how closely they got to getting their afts handed to them by Starscream, after how long they worked to keep the relic safe, how much fear they had to overcome to survive this long, to be just… pushed to the side with less than a pat on the back? To go back to what they were before they had to fight, before they had seen how much they can do, how much they could provide if given a chance-
It stung.
“You have done well today, but it is not your place,” his superior added, the words a little less stern, a bit more tired, as is pleading for him to let things go, to take his place in the great Autobot machine as he had done so far, and for a moment, Optimus wanted to go against his programming, against the doctrine, to challenge the judgement - but that moment passed, and he deflated, helm bowed, a quiet acknowledgement leaving his dermas.
He tried.
It was over.
No more second chances.
“So, after all of this, you're still leaving?”
His abused antenna twitched as he looked down, surprised to see the girl once more on the Steelhaven.
Sentinel didn’t look pleased to see the familiar intruder. “What is she doing here again?” he questioned loudly, coming closer, looking towards Jazz angrily, “Is nobody locking the doors these days?”
The black and white mech shrugged, more amused than concerned, the aversion to organic life sufficiently ‘cured’ already, but when the blue Bot began to advance, he did step in, blocking the other’s path.
Sari stuck out her tongue at these queries, and padded over, deeper into the room, looking at Optimus expectantly instead.
“Tell me!” she demanded, crossing her arms, the most serious frown she could muster showing on her face, “Are you going to go away?”
The Prime didn’t really know how to handle this with grace the first time, and neither had an idea right now, so he only bent down to lift her up. “Sari…”
His defeated tone seemed to be the trigger for the girl, as the stern expression got replaced with a much more upset one.
“You can't do that!” she insisted, wrapping her hands around his thumb, hugging it tightly, “Your place is here!”
He could feel the focus of the room on him and her, observing and assessing; his team - waiting for his lead, Sentinel - judging him with disgust, and the Magnus…
The look from his leader made Optimus feel much smaller, the scrutiny and disappointment tying up his glossa.
“Sari, we can't just not follow an order…” he whispered, hoping she would understand despite her age, but she only dug her fingers between the seams of his digit.
“You can!”
Her childish reply made him smile despite the gravity of this conversation, wishing life could truly be this simple. “Oh, Sari…” he repeated her name softly, “I know it's hard-”
“You can't leave me now!” she rejected the attempt of comfort, squaring up her shoulders as she stood up, pointing at his face.
“If you go, I'm telling my mom!”
The mention of the woman made his processor skip for a second, before simulations began to pour in, his own curiosity driving their generation until he force-quit their calculations, facing the reality.
“I don't think she would be able to change things,” he offered weakly, but that was also the moment their conversation was interrupted.
“Optimus Prime,” Ultra Magnus spoke with the authority that made everyone in the room stand up straighter, “take this human away from the ship and prepare for departure,” he commanded, his optics already dismissing them as much as the turn towards the main screen, ignoring any sort of a subsequent reply that might come his way.
Sari's face burned red. “Big guy! I have a name, and they are going nowhere!” she shouted so hard, Optimus had to intervene, pulling her closer as he shielded her with his other servo, away from view.
“Ultra Magnus, sir, I apologize-”
“Don't!” she screamed, pressing against his hold when he held her down on his palm so she wouldn't climb over his digits, punching against the metal, “You've done so much, you're my friends, and now you will just leave because someone told you to?” she asked stubbornly, “It's not fair!”
He didn't like having to keep her contained like this, but he also was afraid she might try to make a run for it and fall down.
“Life usually isn't fair, Sari,” he pointed out, and, thanks to the dismissal, finally his team was free to approach, to support him in this difficult task.
“We promise we will call often, remember?” Bumblebee reminded her with a crooked smile, pulling himself up on the Prime's arm, pedes dangling until Bulkhead supported him from below, joining in.
“Yeah, we won't let you forget about us!”
Sari looked at their faces from where she lay squashed under the large hand, and tears began to pool at the edges of her eyes.
“It's not fair…” she repeated, voice dropping into sniffles, her movements becoming more sloppy as she tried to wipe away the watery signs of her sadness with her own, smaller hands, “It's not fair…”
Optimus could only continue to hold her in the middle of their group, for as long as they would be given for their farewell.
*****
Hearing his daughter weep like this, standing for now unnoticed by the mechs around him, Megatron had his fists tightened up so hard, he would have ground a scraplet to dust had there been one available for a demonstration.
On one hand, the Autobots leaving would be a huge decrease in stress on the operation he was trying to complete; the transmitter had already been stolen a while back, Blitzwing and Lugnut had taken it out within minutes of their arrival at the ship's periphery, and if the Allspark made its way to Cybertron, it would be a matter of his own whims before he contacted Shockwave and had it stolen, thrown through the space bridge even at the risk of blowing his cover.
On another hand, his child was clearly distraught, the band of misfits that brought him down were also uncharacteristically quiet now, nearly meek in the presence of commanding officers that clearly held them in contempt-
“Are you ready to accept the risk that comes with your decision?”
The sound of his voice was loud and clear in the dull buzz of the ship, making everyone turn his way.
The blue big chinned fool grew furious, which made him look even more annoying than he was so far. “How dare you speak to Ultra Magnus like this, you-”
“Sentinel, that's enough! Please!” Optimus stepped in, shielding him from the other mech; Megatron would have snorted internally at this touching display of unfounded loyalty the Autobots seemed to have towards anything smaller than themselves, but it seemed the action only made the bot more enraged.
“Don't you dare speak to me like this!” the fool, Sentinel, or whatever it was, was already getting himself into a full blown tantrum, so close to his little Prime's face, that Megatron wondered if he would see the dark blue paint smudge on the lighter faceplates later - yet, before the conflict could escalate more, another voice cut between the two Bots.
“Sentinel, stand down.”
The sound of the old mech's voice was unmistakable, even after such a long time.
The blue idiot clearly couldn't get the hint, running his mouth to object. “But, sir!”
“Do not make me repeat myself.”
And there was the response he was waiting for - Ultra Magnus he remembered never did well with being disrespected in front of an audience, a trait they shared; if his long-lived enemy hadn't admonished the bratty officer, he might have thought the other had lost their touch.
The stern order had made Sentinel yield, falling back in line.
“Yes, sir,” he just mumbled back - but Megatron could see in the way his digits tightened that he hadn't let the matter go.
Someone here held grudges, huh?
Judging by the way he kept on glaring at Optimus, he might need to dig a little deeper into his pet Prime later.
“Who are you, human?”
The question made him look up at the one asking it.
Looking at Ultra Magnus from this perspective was particularly grating on his already strained patience; this was in no way anything he would have expected to witness the mech from this angle had it been anything but a long, strenuous combat, and yet, right now, he didn't feel intimidated in the slightest.
Perhaps it was the knowledge he was in disguise, or it was because of the fact that he knew he would normally be able to look down at the bot, or it was some sort of a delusion, but it changed nothing about the fact that his main thought at this sight was that his nemesis looked really tired.
How could someone without Starscream's presence around them for millenia be this exhausted?
Ultra Magnus - and others in the room, too, if he was to be objective - kept on looking at him for a response, so he decided to not keep the other waiting too long.
Since he stepped into this mess, he needed to make his best out of the opportunity, as always.
He didn't fail to notice how his presence made Sari stop her crying.
Good.
She should know he had it under control.
‘Now watch and learn, sparkling of mine, how to make your enemies dance to your tune.’
He lowered his chin into a more neutral position, arms lightly crossed.
“I do not believe neither you nor your crew cares for an answer to this question,” he said in a low, clear voice, the projection of it spreading easily along the room, and looked briefly along his nails, and added:
“For now all you need to know is that I am the mom.”
The words didn't mean much to the new crowd, of course, a concept of motherhood wasn't precisely a thing on Cybertron, but it didn't matter - he could feel that the way he said it, he made the others nervous, which was his main objective as he stepped around the bot's pedes without hurry.
“If you wish to ask me anything, answer my question first - are you ready to take the risk for the Allspark's return to Cybertron?”
Ultra Magnus kept his face neutral at the question he posed, even if his optics narrowed a little. “I do not see how it impacts you, human,” he countered dismissively, which earned him a loud sigh.
“And here I thought at least someone else knows how to think from you bots,” Megatron bemoaned, rubbing his eyes with an exaggerated disappointment, “but it seems the only brain cells have been left with Optimus and his men.”
The insult made the crowd around him shift a little, and even the small red and blue Prime felt the need to defend his superior.
“Ma'am, please-”
He raised his hand, noting approvingly the immediate silence at the gesture, as he glanced at his small discussion partner.
“I do not tolerate baseless slander, Optimus,” he warned the young mech, letting the bot feel his disapproval first, before be stared directly at Magnus, raising a brow, “nor do I believe in looking away from the danger,” he added more coldly, yet a moment later he allowed his features to soften a fraction as he addressed the familiar Prime again, smiling encouragingly, like he sometimes did to his sparkling, “or selling oneself short - so keep your head high, understood?”
Optimus closed his dermas, nodding once, and looked up, following his suggestion, optics shimmering with the newfound resolution.
Oh, how adorable this was.
Really, young bots, so impressionable - it would have been more impressive if he managed to get this reaction in his real body.
He shifted his attention back to his oldest enemy.
“I have heard a thing or two,” he began to idly walk across the room, looking around the space without any specific interest, his attention easily sliding off the container with his long-searched-for artifact, “the Allspark, Decepticons, now I'm hearing about you all leaving Earth,” he listed on his fingers, before he curled them into a fist.
“I am appalled that any of you wouldn't even acknowledge just how much of a risk you will be taking.”
He waited a beat, and when nobody challenged him, he dug deeper.
“The Allspark was floating for a long time out there, and yet the moment its location was known, the Decepticons came up,” he pointed out, linking the events for them, and pointed at Magnus, “and now you want to take it to your home planet.”
He made sure to keep his voice adequately coated in disbelief at the end there, and judging by the shift on the mech's dermas, the message was getting received.
Laying it thicker now…
“There is at least one that knows about its existence,” he reminded them, “and Optimus here can attest that he doesn't exactly take a hint about being unwanted.”
Who would have suspected that the seeker would see Sumdac Tower as a perfect vantage spot?
Though, with his dutiful little Autobot firefighter, and his ragtag team as support, it was hilarious to watch Starscream tumble to the ground when he got there the first time after that initial breach into the lab.
The fact that the flier had also managed to shoot Magnus in the face did leave him jealous, he hadn't done that in a while, but later he only chuckled at the way the mech had been subdued, barely escaping with his life.
Once everything was over, he would make his former Second see the compilation of his failures - before he snuffed his spark out for his betrayal, of course.
A short affirmation came from the Prime, getting him a soft thanks in return for his compliance, the support of his little campaign appreciated in its ultimate irony.
Just a bit longer…
“Do you want them to come to you?” he started to ask, low, grave, “Can you guarantee that they won't damage your peace? Do you want to have this battle on your own turf?”
He let the silence fall.
Magnus had been a stern and steadfast opponent throughout all the years of war, but his periodical inflexibility has never blinded him from the greater goal that he cared about so much:
a safe Cybertron.
By now he must have understood the implications he had been spewing under the guise of critique; his success at preventing massive damages and ensuring the many millennia of peace had been partially attributed to the launch of the Allspark somewhere far away, where none should find it. So far, they have only been faced by one Decepticon, and it was obvious it was staying around - if they took the Allspark, they would be an open target in transit, and then for the period of time before they agree in the assembly as to where to banish it to - if they so decided at all.
If the news comes to the Decepticons that their ‘last hope’ has landed on Cybertron, there is a chance they might choose to escalate things more than just the general skirmishes at the border…
Megatron kept on glaring at the mech, waiting for the cogs to turn as he guided them this entire time; the ingrained need to strike, to tear into his old nemesis had been scraping at his spark even within the confines of this little body of his, the agony of yet again being unable to land a decisive blow to the one who had cost him his victory, it was filling his processor with rage so great he might have begun to growl had he not been as much of a professional as he was.
This was an opportunity, after all.
He had declared it so, and so it was one.
Disrupting the expected flow, he intentionally shifted his focus to Optimus.
The mech was frowning, clearly following the conversation well, understanding the repercussions; his face was serious, as if it was his own personal responsibility to take.
He took pity on the Prime, and cleared his throat, gently jolting him out of this state. “Optimus, if you could please release my daughter to me?”
The Bot looked down at him blankly, before his face showed the hints of a blush, optics brightening, as he let Sari down onto the floor. “Ah, of course-”
Megatron waited until his sparkling was back on her two legs, before he motioned her closer.
“Come here, child,” he barely had the time to ask her as she padded over, still shaken from the prior outburst despite her attempt at keeping herself composed, so he made sure to pat her head and brushed his lips against her hair in reassurance.
“They won't be going anywhere, I promise you that,” he muttered very quietly as he did so, and her grip on his hand tightened in acknowledgement.
He looked back up, knowing the more attentive bots had their hearing high enough to catch his assertion despite its low volume, but it didn't matter.
He wasn't done yet laying his trap.
He nodded towards the artifact. “Additionally, if you are still debating this, you will not be taking everything Allspark related with you anyways.”
Those words made all three mechs look confused, and he pointed down at Sari, gesturing for her to take out the Key hanging in her neck out into the open.
“My daughter possesses a key imbued with Allspark's power,” he explained easily, reminding them of the tiny, yet very mighty item.
“Then she better return it to us for safekeeping,” Ultra Magnus replied officially, “it is a Cybertronian relic.”
Sari moved her hand closer to herself, hiding the Key from view protectively as she stepped behind her parent's leg. “No way!”
Megatron let his head tilt to the side, his arm moving to crowd the child closer to him.
“You seem to have misunderstood me,” he said quietly, sharply, “you do not have any rights to it.”
The sounds of protest were picking up, but he spoke over them.
“The Allspark had given it to her,” he stated the fact into the open, and stared at them all reprovingly, “you cannot tell me you believe yourselves to be superior to its judgment?”
The hitch in everyone's ventilations was unmistakable.
No Autobot, no matter how stupid, would claim such a blasphemous position.
He saw the black and white bot kick the blue nuisance in the shin when he tried to speak up, and thus the expected heavy tension remained undisturbed.
“I thought so,” Megatron cut through it on his own, moving his hand so it would fall on his daughter's shoulder, “and as such, it would remain here - without anyone from your side to protect it, should you decide to take even those ones away,” he added, glancing up at Optimus and his team.
Ultra Magnus had a tight grip on his hammer, he could see it even from this low, but he kept from commenting anything, letting their gazes meet straight on, two wills against each other.
Let's see who would back off first this time, Magnus…
Despite this trail of thought, he felt his sparkling shift under his touch, not yet used to the delicate work of diplomacy, and from the edge of his vision, he could see her hopeful expression get muddled with concern.
She thought it wasn't going to be enough, and it almost made him break out into a laugh.
Ye of little faith…
“Perhaps I can offer a solution,” he proposed, taking the leap into the actual crux of his plan, the pieces of a puzzle arranged neatly under his care.
His nemesis only quipped a short prompt for an explanation, and he was glad his hands were occupied, their minute shifts easily mistaking his annoyance as signs of attempted comfort to the child in his reach.
A silent huff escaped him as he let out a fake breath, glad for once it wasn't the same hiss as his vents would have done, and he pointed at his daughters neck.
“You cannot take this with you, nor wish to keep it abandoned,” he summed up, touching the Key briefly for emphasis, and moving his fingers to point at the powerful item it came from, “the Allspark is a massive risk if you take it back - but you cannot just leave it behind when Decepticons know about it, so you need to monitor it, too,” he thought aloud, before resting one hand on his hip, and asking what was, in his opinion, an obvious solution:
“so why don't you create a bridge nearby?”
The faces around him shifted to different expressions, some curious, some shocked, but after only a few seconds of waiting for a response, he started his work on making sure his idea became the only idea.
For his own space bridge, he'd be willing to do much more than just that.
“You won't even have to worry about maintenance,” he pointed out, gesturing to Optimus, “you already have the crew for that here.”
His Prime's optics shuttered briefly, before his face brightened in understanding, and he nodded in confirmation, looking pointedly at the rest of his team, getting them to stand up straighter - a picture of a squad eager to do their jobs, just like any good, obedient Autobot would.
Megatron would need to reward the mechling in some way for this day, he was helping shroud the real ploy.
He brushed Sari's hair as he moved his hand from his hip, and put up his hand in a loose fist, palm facing the audience.
Index finger unfolded.
“They resume their duty, as you intended for them to do, albeit locally - the order of their superior is thus fulfilled.”
The middle finger joined its side.
“You retain access to the Allspark and its… byproducts, so to say.”
The ring finger, with the silver band glinting on the digit as usual, rose up, too.
“Your planet doesn't get a new target painted in itself.”
His little finger got up.
“And nobody is forced to leave.”
He let his hand remain up for a moment longer, and finally turned it around, spraying it wide as he gestured around. “Everyone gets something out of it.”
Ultra Magnus had been mulling over his points quietly, but at that statement, he didn't miss an opportunity of his own.
“What do you gain?”
“My child's happiness, of course,” he shot back immediately, almost offendedly, the answer already prepared the moment he decided to meddle, and smiled, the glee from making his nemesis short-circuit from confusion bleeding into his tone a little as he countered with disarming sweetness:
“What else could a mother want, dear sir?”