The base was cold once again, and it had lightened a bit as time passed. Morning was approaching. Ratchet patiently waited, watching the minutes pass by, waiting for the final spirit to make their presence. Before long, a blue glow illuminated the hallway, and a bright figure stepped into the main hangar. The medic’s mouth dropped open. 

    Before him stood Alpha Trion, in all of his elegance. As he approached, he nodded to Ratchet, resting his weight on a cane. Ratchet rose to his pedes. “Are you the Spirit of the Future?” He asked. The prophet nodded again. “I’m ready for you to show me what you need to.” Ratchet was surprised that he looked forward to it. He had enjoyed traveling with Cliffjumper, and he couldn’t deny the nostalgia of traveling with Orion Pax. He wondered what Alpha Trion would show him, and what would lie in the future.

    “Come. It is Christmas morning.” The glowing mech gestured towards the hallway. Ratchet passed him and led the way down the dark, chilly corridor. He shivered, wondering why it was so cold. As he passed a door, he heard the sad sound of weeping inside, muffled by the walls. He stopped and turned towards it, and then looked back at Alpha Trion. The spirit only watched him expectantly. Ratchet sucked in a breath, and stepped into the room, phasing through the door. 

    It was Bumblebee’s room. It had been decorated with Rafael’s drawings and various posters, and was normally well lit, but today, the light had been left off. Squinting through the dark, Ratchet took in the sight. The scout was huddled on the floor, shoulders shaking as he sobbed, voice muffled by his arms. Arcee was stroking his back, tears of her own running down her cheeks. Ratchet could only watch for a few moments before he stepped back through the door and into the corridor.    

    “Not Rafael,” he whispered, optics finding the spirit.  

    Alpha Trion frowned. “During the night, he took his final breath.” He spoke slowly. Ratchet looked towards the door, sighing.

    “This can’t be it, isn’t there anything we can do to change this?” He blinked, trying to rid his optics of the tears welling up inside them. “Alpha Trion, you must be able to do something.”

    “Come. There is more.” Without answering, the spirit continued down the hall, leading the way past the varying doors, until they came to the berthroom both Ratchet and Optimus shared. This time, Alpha Trion accompanied him in the room, wordlessly slipping inside. 

    Optimus was seated on the edge of his berth, face buried in his hands. Ratchet’s spark broke at the sight of his mate quietly crying, alone in their room. The soft gasps and sniffles made Ratchet wince, and he reached out to touch his mate’s shoulder. His servo simply phased through his plating. “Where am I?” He asked, turning to Alpha Trion. “Why am I not with him?”

    “He is not mourning for the little boy.”

    Ratchet stared at him, blinking. “I don’t understand.” He tried to read the stoic mech’s face. “Who else?” When he was unanswered, he uttered a frustrated, “Who else, Alpha Trion?!” The unhelpful silence from Alpha Trion made him want to shake the answer out of him. 

    “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, Old Friend.” Ratchet spun back to look at Optimus, optics wide. The words were quiet, and soft, broken with sobs, but it was unmistakable. Ratchet gaped. 

    “Me?”

    Alpha Trion nodded in sad confirmation. Ratchet turned to face Optimus, spark breaking all over again. His mate broke down into a more intense cry, curling in on himself. Ratchet ached with the need to console him. “To free yourself of the festivities, you left and took a drive. By chance, you landed directly in Megatron’s path.” Alpha Trion explained grimly. “It was fast, and tragic. A scout without a friend, a Prime without his mate.” 

    “There has to be a way to change this.” Ratchet wanted to cover his audial receptors, he didn’t want to hear Optimus crying, and be unable to run to his side. Alpha Trion only gazed at him, stony and calm. “I’ve learned so much tonight, I can change, I can’t let this happen.” He pleaded. “I’d do anything for Rafael, and I can’t leave Optimus behind, he needs me. Please, tell me how to change this.” 

    Alpha Trion was fading, his glow diminishing. He was disappearing. Ratchet jolted in panic, gasping. 

    “Please, I need your guidance,” he reached out to touch the spirit, but his digits phased through him. The moment he touched Alpha Trion, he vanished, and the room cut to black. The weeping of his mate diminished, replaced by silence. Ratchet looked around the darkness, blinking, waiting for his optics to adjust. 

    When they did, he realized he was in the same place, but at the correct time. He was standing next to his berth, reaching out to thin air, while Optimus soundly slept in their berth beside him. His servo dropped to his side. 

    He had to change the future.