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Optimus stared out at Iacon's skyline, still not completely used to seeing Cybertronian architecture after spending so much time on Earth. It was a bittersweet thing to be back home and he knew the others felt a similar way— especially going back with a box of dead-metal parts instead of Prowl. He turned to look at Bumblebee who sat unspeaking and unmoving on the rooftop next to him, curled in on himself with his knees tucked up to his chassis. He looked especially fragile in this position.
"It's just not fair," Bumblebee murmured, his voice raw and staticky from crying and strained from grief. Optimus could see the sheen of tears in the corner of his optics and in thin lines trailing down his face— the moonlight made his tears look silver against the yellow of his plating. "I know he thought it was the only option and I think he might've been right, but it's not fair. Everyone else gets to celebrate and come home. Except Prowl."
"No, it's not," Optimus agreed, feeling the weight of Bumblebee's grief as much as his own press against his frame— it was crushing. "But I believe in why he made that choice. He was a good mech and a good friend and I want to honor the memory of that."
Bee shuffled closer and Optimus pulled their frames together, allowing Bee to sob into his chassis for as long as he needed. They'd seen so much in so little time, Bumblebee deserved to have a safe place to let it all out and Optimus was more than willing to be that safe place.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
The medbay was quiet, everyone should've left for the night, and yet Optimus could see a light on at the end of the hall. He knew exactly who he'd find in there.
Ratchet didn't hear him enter, nor did he hear when Optimus audibly reset his vocalizer, trying to make his presence known. He was hunched over a workbench, tools and spare parts strewn across the surface. Optimus could see his friend's fatigue in the way he stalled between movements and the strained creaking of his joints.
"When's the last time you fueled?" Optimus leaned against the door frame he stood in, feeling the weariness of his own struts and the fog of grief that clouded his processor.
The medic grumbled something that Optimus couldn't quite make out, then cursed as the soldering iron he had been holding clattered on the workbench. He sighed, slow and long suffering, still not turning to face Optimus as he picked up the soldering iron and continued. His voice was gruff and Optimus could plainly hear the fatigue lining his words. "What's it matter? I'll grab something when I'm done here. Got a patient waiting on a new arm that I need to finish up the wiring on."
"Come on, come grab a cube with me. You can finish it when you've properly fueled." Optimus urged. He knew what Ratchet was doing, had seen him do the same thing after Sari had been forced to use the Allspark to bring Optimus back. He wasn't going to let it slide.
Ever stubborn, Ratchet didn't budge and Optimus knew Prowl's death was bothering him more than the old medic had been letting on. It was all any of them could think about.
"Will it help convince you if I said I haven't fueled yet, either? I'm not leaving without you."
"I have to—" another clatter of the soldering iron falling again, "I have to do this. I can help this mech." Ratchet's voice fell but Optimus still heard his words as clearly as if Ratchet had been yelling. "I can help them like I couldn't help Prowl."
Optimus softened, dropping any air of teasing persistence he might've held before. It was then, that Ratchet finally turned to face him. His optics were dimmer than they should be, their glow slightly dull in the low light of the medbay. He looked tired, maybe as tired as Optimus felt.
"You can help them, but it'll be easier to rewire that arm with some fuel running through your lines. Weren't you the one to drill that into my dense helm?"
That was enough for Ratchet to allow a small smile, the creases in his face-plate more pronounced. "Fine, fine. You got me there. Let's go then, can't have you walking around with a low tank."
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
Optimus watched Sari fidget on the other side of the screen, tugging at her clothes and messing with her hair. She looked restless, uncomfortable, and he longed to be able to comfort her with more than words.
"How's the rebuilding effort going?" Optimus asked.
"Okay, it's a lot of work. It would be easier if you guys were still here." Sari looked off-screen, still shuffling in her seat.
"I know, I'm sorry we couldn't stay. I promise we'll come visit as soon as we can. We definitely will visit for your birthday, that I can make sure of."
She paused, her entire body going still as she finally looked directly into the camera. "Did he— he made it back okay, right?"
Optimus nodded. "His frame was smelted down and we took his spark chamber to lay to rest near Yoketron's."
Leaving for Cybertron had been a hard decision, Optimus hadn't wanted to leave when the tears hadn't even dried on Sari's cheeks and the city he'd grown to love was in ruins. But escorting Megatron and the other captured Decepticons had been their top priority, though that didn't stop Optimus from wishing they could've stayed. He wished he could comfort Sari more than just behind a screen.
"That's good." She sniffled and Optimus' spark panged in sympathy until his whole chassis ached with it. At least he had the others and the whole of Cybetron, Sari was left with just Dr. Sumdac and an empty base filled with memories. He hated that they'd had to do that to her.
"Maybe we can try and arrange for you to come see Cybertron, we'll even show you where Prowl is resting. Okay?"
Sari wiped the tears from her face and gave Optimus a shaky smile. "Yeah, okay."
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
The sky was dark, few stars illuminated the path, leaving only the distant lights from Iacon to guide them as Optimus walked with Bulkhead. Neither of them had spoken since Optimus had asked to join Bulkhead on his walk. Usually Bulkhead would've said something, anything by now.
"I wish he could've seen what he did."Bulkhead said at last, more melancholic than Optimus had ever heard him. "He saved the world and everyone gets to live better because of it, except for him. Out of anyone, I think Prowl deserved to see what he did the most."
Optimus nodded, following Bulkhead's gaze up to the sky above them. "We'll just have to make sure what Prowl did is properly recorded and we live in ways that would make him proud. I wish he was still with us, too, but we can keep living in his memory."
"Do you think there was another way?"
"Maybe, I don't know. Prowl did what he thought was the only way, and maybe it was, but I believe in his intentions at the very least. What he did was enough to stop Megatron and save the Allspark so I have to believe the price was worth it."
"Yeah… I'd like to imagine he's watching us from the Well, I can only hope we can make him proud." Bulkhead sighed, keeping his gaze trained on the sky, like maybe Prowl was watching from above.
"I think we do make him proud, he believed in us as much as we believed in him."
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
Jazz had remained an inconsistent fixture of Optimus and the others' lives, coming and going with little explanation, but still remaining close by. He reminded Optimus of Prowl, just a bit, back when he hadn't quite felt he was part of the team, merely someone on the sidelines.
Optimus found Jazz in a newly constructed courtyard, something that made him think of Prowl's room in their base on Earth. Jazz sat in the center of the courtyard, beneath an artificial tree designed to look like those on Earth. His optics were powered off, deep in meditative concentration, but Optimus saw the distress ebbing from his frame, too.
Despite his seemingly deep concentration, Jazz's optics powered back on, lighting up his visor as he looked up at Optimus. "Hey, mech. It's nice in here, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is. Reminds me of Earth." Optimus sat in front of Jazz, folding his legs in a similar way, though he felt more clumsy with the motion.
"Good. That's what I was aiming for."
Optimus nodded, following the limbs of the tree up until he found the sky and wondered which pinprick of light Earth might've been. "Did you do this for Prowl?"
With a hiss of vented air, Jazz sighed, his expression darkening. "Yeah. Felt like I owed it to him."
Optimus studied him, watched the way his servos were clenched together like he was restraining himself from doing something. He noticed the flicker of Jazz's visor as his optics reset and the gentle humming of his internals. "You blame yourself, don't you? For his death."
The laugh Jazz let out was strained and humorless, filled with pain. "Of course I do. We were similar, in a way. Maybe not equals, but close to that. I had more training under Yoketron than he did. I should've been able to help him, share the burden of giving the Allspark spark energy. If I had been able to use some of my own spark, maybe he didn't have to die."
"That's not fair to yourself. Who's to say the Allspark would've even accepted energy from two different sparks. Even then, it's no use to blame yourself for an impossible situation. You did what you could to help, but Prowl made his choice. You shouldn't blame yourself for that."
Jazz scoffed, but his features softened and he leaned back, using his servos to support his weight. "I think we could've been friends. Maybe not great ones, but it would've been nice to swap stories over a cube every now and then. I'll never know if that feeling was right."
"No, you won't. I think that's the worst part of grief and loss. The end of future possibilities," Optimus said, pausing for a moment before he continued. "But you have a spot with my crew and I. Things are different now but we still have each other. If you want it, there's always a place with us. You can even join us when we visit Earth again."
"Yeah, alright. I 'spose I can take you up on that." Jazz smiled, the weight on his shoulders wasn't gone but he seemed to hold it a little more easily now.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
Optimus had sequestered himself in his room, unwilling and unable to face anyone when he felt so raw and hollowed out. He remembered losing Elita-1, how he had hidden in his room for cycles and uttered not a single word for even longer. He remembered feeling like his spark had been scooped out and he was just a walking shell of a mech. But he didn't remember it hurting this badly.
He laid in berth, unmoving as he stared up at the dark ceiling, and thought that mourning hurt worse than dying— he knew what dying felt like, he had even technically died before and somehow, the loss of a friend was even more excruciating. He considered that being flung into a sun might even hurt less than this.
A once tenuous relationship had strengthened into a friendship that Optimus had treasured, then suddenly, it was gone, quickly stripped away. The feelings remained, though there was nowhere for them to go. Optimus was stuck with the feelings of a friendship and no friend for them to attach to. It made his chassis ache and he craved for just one more moment to share a joke with Prowl or even just exist in the same space as him one last time. There had been no goodbye, and there never would be.
"Optimus?" Ratchet called, followed by a knock at his door. "When's the last time you've fueled? I haven't seen you in awhile."
Somehow, Optimus managed to pull his broken pieces together just enough to peel himself away from the berth and into a standing position to open the door. His joints creaked, protesting each move but he managed to open the door and face the members of his crew that had seen so much with him by their sides.
"Mind if we come in? We brought some fuel and snacks." Bulkhead motioned to the tray Bumblebee was carrying, piled high with little cubes of jellied energon and rust sticks next to a couple cubes of energon.
Optimus peered out the door, stunned to find even Jazz waiting in the halls. He gathered up his strength and nodded, stepping to the side to let his friends in.
"You've been so busy helping us not fall apart you haven't allowed yourself time to mourn. Am I right?" Jazz grabbed a cube from the tray Bee had set down on the table and held it out for Optimus, smiling softly when Optimus finally took it.
"I guess," Optimus said, sitting on the edge of his berth. "It's easier to help others than think about how I feel."
"Then let us help you with that. We'll be here, just like how you're here for us." Bee said, nudging Optimus' shoulder with his own.
The tears that had lined the corners of his optics for the past few cycles finally spilled, and for once Optimus no longer felt like he was drowning. They would get through this, together.