Optimus' tired optics watched the jet grow smaller and smaller, chasing the horizon until it disappeared over the horizon. There was a heavy feeling in his chest, something of unease, as he watched Megatron go. Whenever the twisted warlord left, he always came back before long. Optimus had no reason to doubt that this time would be the same.

"It's. . . It's over," behind him, Smokescreen uttered in disbelief.

"Not yet." There was the voice that he had missed all this time. Optimus turned around to gaze at Ratchet, his spark twisting in hurt. His spark was broken when Ratchet decided to stay on Earth, and they went all that time without one another. And now, when they finally met again, Optimus was sentenced to death. His medic's calculating optics watched him carefully. "The Allspark," he said nervously, "Where is it?"

To draw Unicron from Megatron's body, Optimus had released the Allspark into the Matrix of Leadership, opening a new vessel that could trap Unicron. It was a quick decision, and a worthy sacrifice, to give his life to save Cybertron's future. The Prime struggled to find the words to explain this to his Autobots. They were the most passionate band he had ever had the honor of working beside, and it came out when they desperately argued with him, begging to find another way. Optimus believed that there was none, and that this was the right path to saving Cybertron. He was but a soldier, he was no god, he was willing to make the sacrifice.

As he turned his back to the Autobots and prepared to lift off, there was a firm servo on his arm, and he was pulled back around to meet his medic's angry optics.

Ratchet insisted on at least trying. It had been a long time since they had argued, and he didn't think that he had ever seen Ratchet this furious, with him, at least. Optimus found himself being dragged by the audial back towards the Nemesis, and he found that he didn't resist, couldn't, even. The reassurance of all the others, pleading with him to listen to Ratchet, the stubborn passion Ratchet had for him, it melted Optimus' resolve, and he agreed to allow it.

He didn't think it would work.

But Ratchet had a knack for bringing about miracles. His second idea was what brought us to now.

Ratchet and Wheeljack had discovered that with some modifications, the indestructible containers that had once held the Iacon relics were capable of holding the Allspark. The two scientists sat Optimus down and helped him coax the powerful beacon into the vessel, and by the magic of a medic who cared very much, the Prime and the planet were saved.

Everything was settled. Construction was started up again, and everyone resumed what they had been working for before Unicron came to plague them. Citizens were arriving back, Autobot and Decepticon alike, eager to offer a hand in fixing their home. There was peace. Those who came for a fight found only kind, passionate friends who just wanted to live again.

Optimus had his eyes on restoring something else, however. Ratchet hadn't returned to Earth yet, deciding that he would wait until Ultra Magnus was back on his pedes. The Prime did not intend on letting him flee once again.

On a quiet evening, Optimus found the medic in the medbay of the Nemesis, scrolling through a datapad and engaging Knock Out with witty banter. The addition of the Decepticon medic to their ranks was still new and awkward, but Ratchet didn't seem to pay much mind. It had been a long time since he had capable help in a medbay, and it seemed that he welcomed the notion.

"Hello, doctors," Optimus greeted as he strode in. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Just Knockout's fourth manicure today." Ratchet replied halfheartedly, and Knock Out bridled.

"Just because I have standards-"

The red mech stopped at Ratchet's raised servo. "What do you need, Optimus?"

"I was hoping you would join me for a walk. I'd like to show you something I've found during reconstruction." The Prime was embarrassed by the way his spark sped up dramatically. He offered a kind smile, hoping his nervousness wasn't visible.

Ratchet blinked, lowering his datapad. He hesitated before answering, "Alright." He set it aside and quietly followed Optimus out, silent as they strode through the halls. Only when they made it outside did he speak again. "I know what you're going to ask me," he muttered miserably.

"You've always been perceptive." Optimus rumbled as they strolled leisurely towards the sunset. The sky was beautiful at this time, clear and warm in color, and Ratchet stared up at it with thoughtful optics. "This way," Optimus murmured softly, guiding him along. He ached to take Ratchet's servo, but he feared the gesture would be answered with rejection.

They walked for nearly half an hour, most of it in awkward silence. The atmosphere was heavy, and Optimus could feel the conflict wafting off of Ratchet. There was a battle being fought in his medic's helm. Optimus hoped it would end in his favor.

"We're nearly there." He reassured when Ratchet's pace slowed.

"Why are you dragging me out here?"

Optimus didn't verbalize, only pointed. Ratchet followed the gesture with his optics, and gasped softly.

Glinting in the sun, a wild crystal garden had begun to sprout, the first since Cybertron went dark. They had not been seen for a millenia, and their beauty was greatly missed. Pink, blue and purple crystals jutted upward in brilliant shapes, poking through rich Cybertronian soil and gleaming healthily. Ratchet passed Optimus and knelt to touch a crystal, carefully, as if it might disintegrate. "Primus," he felt as if he might cry. "I missed these, so much." He dipped his digits into the soil, sighing. It was soft and full of life. After Cybertron had died, the soil had greyed and become hard and unforgiving. There was no sign of that hardship now.

Optimus appeared beside him, kneeling and reaching to brush the same crystal Ratchet was tenderly cradling. "It's wonderful, isn't it?" He watched his medic's face, unable to keep from smiling.

"Thank you for bringing me here." Ratchet didn't meet his gaze, setting his jaw. "I appreciate being able to see this before. . ." His throat tightened. "Before I return to Earth." He wanted to make it clear that he had no intention of staying. He had made a sacrifice, a commitment, and he would not back out of it. Not for the scrap Optimus was pulling, anyway.

A moment of pained silence passed.

"Ratchet, I am so sorry." Optimus caught him by surprise, and he visibly tensed. The Prime took his servo, intertwining their digits, holding firmly so he could not withdraw. He had to hear these words. "You deserved so much better than what I gave you."

"Please, don't do this." Ratchet shook his helm, begging.

"I have to." His leader vented slowly. "I will not make the same mistake twice. I will not let you run from me again."

"Can you blame me?!" Ratchet yanked his servo free, leaping to his pedes and facing him furiously. "What was I supposed to do? Stay with a mech that couldn't return my commitment? Optimus, you didn't want me, so I stay on Earth so I can forget about you, and now you pull this stunt?! This isn't fair, you can't do this to me!" His voice raised to a shout, and Optimus winced. He remained kneeling, preferring to stay level with his angry medic.

"I could never blame you, I hurt you, I pushed you away." He agreed sadly. "You offered your spark to me, countless times, and I refused to take it. You could've been my mate, but I was a coward. I let my fears stop me from claiming the medic I love." His spark clenched at Ratchet's teary optics, and how they glinted in the beautiful Cybertron light. "You asked me for a sparkbond, the greatest commitment you could give me, and I left you. You have every right to be furious with me."

"And I am," Ratchet hissed.

"And now, I kneel before you, regretful of my mistake, ready to give you my spark. I am so very sorry for how I hurt you. All I can do now is beg for your forgiveness." Optimus reached out and took Ratchet's servo again, cradling it gently in his massive palm. "Ratchet, will you stay on Cybertron, by my side, as my mate?"

"How fragging could you," the medic spat, the servo Optimus held clenched into a fist. "How dare you, you can't, I- I FRAGGING HATE YOU. . ." He was sputtering, frame shuddering with rage.

"I don't believe you." Optimus murmured, lifting Ratchet's servo to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to it.

"You're horrible, you can't do this to me."

Optimus brought his servo to rest over his sparkchamber, and Ratchet could feel his spark beating. "My spark is yours, Old Friend. It always was. I am so sorry that I wouldn't give it to you."

Ratchet suddenly crumbled, lowering to his knees and covering his face with trembling servos. All the walls he had built were crashing down, all of his buried hurt was resurfacing. He had tried hard to forget everything his leader made him feel, and here it all was, present as ever. Optimus embraced him, pulling him against his chest and holding him close. There was no resistance. "I can't just forgive you." Ratchet mumbled into his servos.

"Try." His leader pleaded. "Say yes."

"Are you sure? Are you truly ready for this? Optimus, I don't want this to be like before, I don't want to sneak around and hide from everyone. I want you to let me be your mate." His voice sounded hopeful, for a moment.

Optimus smiled, engines humming affectionately. "Make no mistake, Old Friend. It will be nothing like before." He released Ratchet as the medic made to get back up.

"Alright. I can't believe I'm saying this," he sighed, rolling his optics at the grin he received. "I'll stay here, with you. I want nothing more than to be your sparkmate."

Optimus suppressed the desperate urge to grab his medic, to touch him in ways he hadn't in a long time, to kiss him and reassure him that everything was fine now. The sky above them was darkening, the first stars of the night emerging. Ratchet's optics seemed to glow, his armor glinting in the fading light. Optimus hoped that he knew how handsome he looked beneath Cybertron's lovely sky. It was impossible not to stare, and Ratchet laughed, soft and low. The sound made Optimus' spark sing.

"Are you done gawking?"

"Not quite yet." The Prime's optics moved over Ratchet's spark chamber, and he imagined how beautiful his spark would be when they merged.

The medic shifted his weight. "What now, Optimus?"

Unsure if he would cross a boundary, but so damn desperate to act, he answered, "Old Friend, I would like to interface with you in this garden, and then make you my mate, under the stars."

"Well then," Ratchet reached out and stroked the side of his face, tracing his audial fin, smiling. "Who am I to say no to a Prime?"

"Not just a Prime." The large mech rumbled, taking his hips and pulling their frames together. His mouth caught Ratchet's, and he pushed the medic's legs apart as he laid him in the soft soil. "Your mate." He purred against Ratchet's lips.to start writing