capitalh | no one mourns the wicked

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no one mourns the wicked

Who: Optimus Prime and AUTOBOTS
Where: The Autobot campground.
When: The evening/night after the dance off.
What: Orion Pax has been restored to his past and future self. Optimus Prime is NOT HAPPY. Also, very very tired.
Warnings: Injuries, intense robot ass devastation. Angry dad. Angry mom.

Optimus Prime, unlike Orion Pax, leaves no time for argument or complaint. After he's finished dealing with Megatron, he orders the Autobots to roll out, provided assistance to injured comrades where necessary. He takes no assistance for himself.

Which is stupid, because after days of starvation and torture and minus the burst of power from the Matrix he was utilizing just before, he is extremely fucked up. It's less obvious that he's on his last legs than it might be with some bots, but he is very injured and trying hard to pretend that he isn't. He drives back to base by his own means, and doesn't speak but to give the occasional order until they are there.

He wants everyone safe and tended to and organized, and he needs to have a talk with just about everyone on the team, and besides that he needs to catch up with everything he hadn't been paying attention to as Orion Pax...he doesn't see how he could possibly take a rest quite yet, there is too much stuff to do, and if he made it this far he can make it a little bit father.

More than tired, though, he is angry. He's angry at Megatron, angry at some of his team, and angry at himself. He doesn't pause to talk to anyone once they get back to camp, and immediately starts to ineffectually try to organize things with as few words as possible.

[Feel free to tag in as someone at any point in this, including later in the night or the next day. He will probably pass out in the medibay within the hour, though. Either that or Ratchet will get him.]

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It's easy to avoid speaking with Optimus after the fight - their newly restored leader doesn't, frankly, seem to want to speak with anyone...a request that Rodimus is more than happy to oblige. In fact, he would probably continue to oblige if not for the fact that he's stuck in the medibay with him.

Ratchet was quick in making repairs, but with so many of them injured, so few supplies and only one of him, there's only so much he can do at a time. The more major of Rodimus' wounds have been sealed up and the structural damange to his chassis at least stabilised but the welds are still fresh, and sore. He hasn't been able to do all that much in the way of moving about, which is for the best anyhow since he's exhausted. Despite this, he's hardly spent a minute offline, instead choosing to spend his time miserably stewing in his own guilt, waiting for Optimus to awaken.

Rodimus is sitting on the edge of a nearby berth when he notices Optimus stir, finally showing signs of life after passing out cycles before. He's been waiting for this moment, knowing that eventually they'd have to talk, but now that the moment's come, Rodimus suddenly wishes he were anyhere BUT here. What's he supposed to say?

"...hey. You're awake. Um. How do you...how do you feel?"

Optimus had been fully intent on continuing to remain conscious until everything had been sorted, but ultimately that didn't pan out for him. After Ratchet had forced him to receive treatment for his many injuries, it hadn't been very long at all before weariness finally overtook him and he fell into recharge before much work could even be done.

Much of the basics have been accomplished since he passed out, and the chance to actually rest has helped. However, when he wakes up his processor is still hot with anger and frustration - a storm of emotions and regrets that has barely receded even as he was offline.

His optics blink hazily, he eyebrows furrowed. One of his fists clenches at his side, and for a moment it's not clear whether he actually heard Rodimus or not.

"As can be expected," he says, finally, still not turning to face the other bot. After a moment or two of glaring into space, his optics flicker in his direction. "Have your injuries been treated?"

No nonsense, here.

Yikes, cold, Optimus.

"Yeah. Ratchet's been busy but the worst of it's taken care of..." Rodimus replies. This wasn't the Optimus he was expecting at all...the anger doesn't seem to have retreated at all, and the terse way he answers surprises Rodimus. There's an agonisingly long moment of uncomfortable silence where he doesn't know what to say next. Clearly there are going to be no pleasantries here; this conversation needs to happen, so he might as well get it over with...even if saying the words is nearly physically painful.

"I...um..." Rodimus' voice is strained, and he watches Optimus closely as he speaks. "I hope...I hope you're not angry. Um...about...I mean, you probably are. Angry. With me. And the er...things that I did."

Optimus has yet to hear anything about this story from Rodimus himself. He had gotten some idea of it while he was still Megatron's prisoner, from the things that had been said, but it wasn't until they had returned to base that he was given any context. He is angry, yes. The picture that it creates is not one that he likes at all.

But Rodimus's nervousness is glaringly obvious, and he isn't going to start dealing out any scoldings until he knows the full story. Or, at least, Rodimus's version.

He vents slowly and carefully, as if he has to delicately unwind something. A bit of the tension leaves him, but even close to all of it. There is more than just Rodimus on his mind. So much more.

"I have not yet had time to fully understand the nature of what you did, Rodimus," he says, and part of him still just sounds fucking exhausted beneath everything else. "But I would like for you to explain it to me, in your own words. I am withholding my judgement until then."

It's undoubtedly good to have Optimus back, but even so, things have been a strangely muddled haze even in the wake of their victory. Everyone's exhausted after the fight, for one, and Drift and Rodimus both are in some considerable trouble, and -- even though things are undoubtedly looking better now, there's so much to sort out. That, and Optimus is in obvious need of medical treatment and recharge.

Arcee knows Optimus must have enough on his mind already, could have told from the strength of his fury toward Megatron, and on top of that he's injured, too. She holds off on speaking with him in the interest of not crowding him, of overwhelming him, because he doesn't seem terribly eager to engage with any of them just yet. Unfortunately, this just...gives her more time to dwell on everything that's happened. In the midst of the battle, Matrix in hand, there'd been no hesitation; even now, she can't say what she feels is regret, either, but there's a longing there. Her spark had been a confusing mess before they'd gotten the Matrix back, and she'd expected that to have stopped, somehow -- but the admittedly musical but heartfelt conversation she'd had with Drift had...complicated things. More than ever, she's not sure how to feel.

It's not the reason she goes to see Optimus a day or so later, when she thinks he might have recovered some. As the now-relieved temporary commander of the Autobots, she has a lot to fill Optimus in on -- and she's dreading it, in a way. Despite the recovery of the Matrix, the Autobots are arguably worse off than when he'd left. The urgency of their situation until now had spared her from the shame of having to examine her failures too closely, but now...well, Arcee can't help but feel like she's disappointed Optimus in more ways than one.

She brings a couple of datapads into the medibay, entering quietly. She sees Optimus on one of the berths, looking a little better than just after the battle but still considerably worse for the wear. She draws air in through her vents before cycling it out again, trying to steel herself. Focus, now. Autobot duties first.

"Optimus, sir."

It's not surprising that, in the mayhem of the Autobots return to base, the active decision may have been made to just leave Starscream to stew in his stasis while more important matters were dealt with. Or maybe they just forgot about him. Who can say, really?

The point is that Starscream has been out cold since Ultra Magnus so suddenly took off the night before, unable to wake on his own and battling strange, sub-conscious processor quirks the whole time.

When the effect is lifted and he can finally command his own body once more, he immediately jolts upright into an awkwardly seated position on the floor. He shakes his head with a groan, which quickly turns into a growl when he tries to flex his wings only to find that their lateral movement is greatly restricted, which prompts him to remember just where he is...

He struggles to his feet and strides over to the containment field with determined ferocity to see who has come to rouse him. "Next time, a little warning before knocking me unconscious might be a nice- Orion?!"

It sure looks like Orion. It would have to be Orion. Right?

...man, he sure hopes it's Orion.

Edited 2014-08-26 01:43 (UTC)

He's been restless, despite the fact that Ratchet has been insisting that he give himself some peace before beginning to load responsibilities onto his shoulders again. Unfortunately, there just doesn't seem to be any peace to be had in his processor.

He hears her voice before he sees her, and for once he feels a bit less irritated upon opening his optics. He'd been reclining on the berth without much effect, but now he rises into a seated position - to reemphasize that he can, more than anything else.

His expression is difficult to read as he looks at her. It's not the anger of the night before, or the low burning frustration that he has been addressing just about everything else with. It comes across as just...blank. The easy tells of Orion Pax are gone, his guards are up, and his processor is, as ever, a mystery.

"Arcee," he says, and though it is not quite friendly, it is perfectly civil.

Edited 2014-08-26 01:51 (UTC)

It isn't Orion.

Instead, Optimus Prime stands on the other side of the containment field, his arms crossed over his chest. If his mannerisms don't go a long way to show Starscream how incorrect he is, his manner of speaking will.

"Starscream," he says, and that's it. No direct confirmation, no further taunting, just a dagger glare that Orion Pax could never quite pull off and just enough rope for Starscream to hang himself with.

Rodimus puts a hand to his mouth, his expression unabashedly distraught. This almost seems like an opportunity to explain himself, but Rodimus knows better than that now...he'd made some serious mistakes in the past couple of weeks. Some mistakes that even he knows there's no explaining in the world that is going to make right.

"I...okay. Okay." He vents a sigh, steeling himself as he scrambles to organize his thoughts. "It's not...it's not really all that complex, I suppose. I um...I thought, when you were still Orion and, and things weren't looking all that great that I would..." He hesitates briefly, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. "I decided to....um.....infiltrate the Decepticons. You know, to gather intel. I thought I could do more good doing that than sitting around the base doing...nothing."

He pauses, clasping his hands together, looking down, unable to bring himself to look at Optimus while he explains.

"And I...." he exhales a vent sharply. "I didn't tell Arcee."

He fully expects a bad reaction at that, so he doesn't leave a window for one, and instead plows ahead, speaking rapidly as he does.

"I spent some time tracking them down, and when I did, they let me join up with a little convincing and...I...traded them some non-essential intel. It - it wasn't anything that would hurt anyone, just bits and pieces. Miscellany, really. I was there for almost two weeks and I didn't find out anything. I didn't even know you were there, I swear. It was...it was a waste of time.

"And besides," Rodimus' expression hardens briefly. "Obviously, it turns out they'd been on to me the whole time. I know, it was stupid. I was stupid. And. Well. Here we are."

It's a rough version, and it's watered down, but that's pretty much it. Minus one small thing...the thing that he's most concerned about sharing, and he hovers precariously on doing so, deciding to give Optimus a moment to react first.

Edited 2014-08-26 02:18 (UTC)

It's strange, how in a few short months Arcee had become so accustomed to Orion's mannerisms, and the staunch stoicism of Optimus Prime is almost arresting. She doesn't quite stiffen, but there is a sense of an aborted gesture on her face, a look that scuttles into something military and diligent, standing tall.

"It's good to see you, sir." There's no shortage of truth to that, and Arcee suddenly finds it difficult to moderate the warmth in her voice. She'd never been cool or curt with Optimus, they'd been close in a way, but nothing that rivaled the particular closeness she'd had with Orion. When she thinks too hard about it, she realizes she can't quite remember how she'd used to speak to Optimus in moments of quiet.

"How are you feeling?"

It's basically what he'd already surmised. He suspects that he will need to speak to Arcee and Ultra Magnus before he can consider himself fully informed of the situation, but with just this alone it is exasperating enough. Even more so when it seems that Rodimus is already far down the path of berating himself for it - not that that actually resolves the problem.

His words are measured as he speaks, with a rigidly level tone that suggests one is controlling their temper.

"Arcee was your commanding officer, Rodimus. What you did was not only inappropriate tactics, but a frankly inexcusable level of disrespect to her as your leader and your teammate."

OOoooooh no.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Slowly, steadily, both sets of wings droop down out of sight, and he can feel his spark twinge in shock. "O-o-optimus Prime!! You... You're..." he drums his clawed fingers in the empty air and glances away, and then back again, trying to think of something appropriate to say here that might save his aft.

"I knew that with the information I provided, there was no way your Autobots wouldn't succeed! Welcome back." He flashes a broad, but ultimately unconvincing smile. His anxiety is clearly showing around the edges of it.

"I am recovering," he says in a level, but tired, tone. He immediately decides to take that as a question of his physical health and nothing more. He is not sure he has the words to describe how he is feeling emotionally.

Optimus and Orion both had always been the reserved sort, but never actually oblivious to their own emotions. Orion had been uncertain, he could remember that more freshly than ever. But Optimus had never considered himself to struggle with his own emotions, or to have a difficult time understanding what he was feeling.

That's all changed now. He can't possibly measure his internal reaction to the sight of Arcee, not through all this anger and loss. Does he feel different? From the last time he was Optimus? From the last time he was Orion?

Though there has always been much that Optimus Prime didn't know, he had always known who he was. He is not certain that that is the case anymore.

He feels everything and he feels nothing.

He glances away, for only a moment.

"...Thank you for assuming command in my absence," he says. "I have no regrets in my decision."

It would almost be funny, if Optimus was the sort of guy who liked jokes. He's not. Starscream's scrambling does absolutely nothing to convince him, and it shows.

"You attempted to make me your prisoner. You turned me over to those that would torture and kill me." His words are as hard and cold as the metal that makes him. "Do not try my patience with further deceit."

Arcee really had only meant to inquire about his health, but his hesitation brings to light the ambiguity in her question and she feels immediately something akin to embarrassment. But it's that last that really brings the shame to surface in her spark, hot and uncomfortable, and it's Arcee who can't hold his gaze, looking down at the datapads in her hand with lips pursed only to pull any other expression from her face.

"Well, you might want to reserve judgment until after you've reviewed everything." There's supposed to be a twinge of humor to her voice, but it falls away somehow. Instead, her voice is regrettably heavy. Arcee steps closer, holding out the datapads for him.

"It's...it wasn't the same without you, sir. I think everyone's glad to have you back."

Ultra Magnus had taken up the rear of the procession back to base, and was the last to arrive, pulling up behind the other bots and transforming, the Forge tumbling from the passenger cabin of his alt mode. Taking stock of their small team, it was clear they would be very busy recuperating from this battle, both physically and emotionally.

He vented a large sigh, wincing as the movement caused a shooting pain from his torso. Ratchet had done a quick field patch job on his sword wound, but it was only a temporary fix. Enough to keep him on his feet, anyway, one hand pressed against his wound, the other still carrying the Forge, weighing down his weakened left side.

Once he was certain the others were following Optimus' hastily given orders, he limped after their commander.

"Sir. Perhaps I may be of assistance?"

He doubts that he'll start regretting it. If there were failures and mistakes, he is in no place to condemn. His own plans had gone abysmally, and if he chose to focus on that, he could easily blame the vulnerability of this team on his own foolish decisions.

He won't, however. He knows that it is pointless now. They can only move forward.

"I do not expect a perfect showing, Arcee. This has been an uphill position for every bot on this team, and you are no exception." He takes the datapads, and glances at them, but only briefly. He'll dig into them soon enough for the sake of carrying on, but not so that he can critique Arcee's actions.

He presses his fingers over his closed optics, trying to keep himself focused through his weariness. When he opens them again, he's looking at her intently.

"I was a fool to turn away your assistance, at the start. Perhaps if I had seen beyond my own desperation, some of this could have been avoided."

Rodimus' frowns looking more miserable by the second, still refusing to look directly at Optimus.

"I know. I know. And I don't have an excuse for that. I don't know what I was thinking," He slouches further looking like he's trying desperately to disappear into the berth. If he resonates sounds regurgitated it's because he does know why he didn't tell Arcee, but "she's a cranky, fun-sucking, pain-in-the-aft" probably isn't going to fly with Optimus.

"And there's...there's something else." He vents a sigh, finally looks tentatively over at Optimus. "I...I...gave Starscream your personal comm link frequency..."

Edited 2014-08-26 03:14 (UTC)

In a way, it would have been better if he'd voiced disappointment. Arcee knows it is meant to reassure her, and it does, but at the same time, it somehow makes her that much more ashamed for how recklessly she'd acted points, how selfishly. She could call it an indiscretion, but that seems insulting to Orion, somehow -- but nonetheless, had Optimus taken that decision into account? Is his approval implicit in that reassurance? The whole thing makes her head spin, and she shoves it aside, trying to be present for the matter at hand.

But she's not prepared for the intensity of his gaze, of something that honest from him just now when he's been so withdrawn, and it shows. She stares back at him, disarmed, and then her gaze drops, air rushing softly from her vents.

"You can't take all the blame. I...should have pushed harder, maybe."

That's too bad, because Optimus is going to get more of his scrambling, preceded by a high pitched whine that leads right into... :

"I didn't- I wouldn't exactly say that I turned you over, really, you see that phrasing, it makes it sound as if it was my intention from the start to hand you over to Megatron, which was certainly not what I had in mind..."

His optics widen very slightly, and then narrow, the implications of that statement occurring to him. He puts a hand to his head, looking away as well, but mostly just out of utter exhaustion with everything.

"I see," he says.

Optimus's fury has been near palpable, ever since he curbstomped Megatron, but as Ultra Magnus approaches he collects himself for a moment, and vents very slowly and carefully. His optics fall to the wound at his Second in Command's side.

"You will be, Ultra Magnus," he says. "But first I would like to be certain that your wounds are tended to. Ratchet will have a long night ahead of him, but it would be best not to agitate your injuries in the meantime."

Pot, kettle, black, anyone?

He vents for a few moments before speaking because he is, in fact, very emotional, and maintaining his composure takes a consistent effort. He distances his spark from the most tender of issues at work here. Right now he tries to focus on Arcee the Commander and her alone.

"Sparks more stubborn than yours have tried," he says, and there is very nearly an edge of humour to it. He can remember Ratchet telling him this, only days ago, when he was still Orion. He cannot tell if that is more recent than his memories of Unicron, or somehow parallel.

"I do not intend to deprecate myself," he says, slowly. "But command is a position of great potential error and many uncertainties. You shouldered the burden, and you did so admirably."

Just as he has been shouldering that burden for thousands and years, and has only just now has a breathe of fresh air. Optimus would not have recognized the feeling, through his own optics.

He feels very old.

Rodimus is watching Optimus, his optics wide, searching his expression for a reaction...to no avail. Usually difficult to read, Optimus is now impossible.

This isn't how Rodimus had hoped Optimus' return would be. It isn't how he'd envisioned he own return to the Autobots was going to be. He'd wanted to do something good, something worthwhile. He'd been hoping to do something that would make Optimus proud.

Instead he feels like he betrayed him.

"I didn't know what would happen...I....I thought it was harmless. I had no idea...if I had, I wouldn't've...I'd've never..."

He breaks off, his anxiety about what he'd done reaching a pitch, straining his voice and he realises how futile and childish his explanation sounds, anyhow. It didn't frankly matter what he'd thought...he did it.

"Yes, I am certain you would have been fully capable of administering your own horrors, given the need," Optimus says. It's all very crisp and clean and uncompromising. Not outright giving a verdict but more or less allowing Starscream to terrify himself.

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