"Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm."
- Erlkönig (1782) by; von Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
000
The Ark was like a small community out in the middle of nowhere, where everyone knew someone else, where that someone knew you and it could be quite annoying. Where you just seemed to be that one neighbor who had the one noisy neighbor that you'd catch peaking out their window curtains every so often at what you where doing. Whether you were leaving or coming or just doing some simple yard work. The Ark had its own little secrets too but unlike most towns, usually lacking in the 'exciting' department for the most part the Ark was completely opposite of that.
Some would say 'quiet' moments where far and few between and when it was quiet something was up and you just knew this.
But that's not what I'm getting at here.
The Ark, a considerably massive ship that was designed to house a large crew for a long period of time, sometimes it could seem very, very small at times. And when it came down to it, well, secrets couldn't be kept for very long like that little community with nosy neighbors. Where people got together on Sunday (usually women for some reason it seemed) afternoons and shared gossip since that seemed to be the only interesting thing to do.
The faint smile on her face intrigued him and naturally Prowl couldn't help but wonder what his current charge was thinking. He said nothing though choosing to remain silent and continuing with his work. Letting out a quiet sigh Blair rolled over onto her stomach putting her chin on her arms and took to watching Prowl scribble something a data-pad.
"Prowl."
The Datsun's engine rumbled faintly in an 'hmm' fashion. Knowing what that sound meant Blair knew she should continue.
"Some of the guys are growing suspicious about Optimus being M.I.A."
Pausing, Prowl spared a glance over at his charge for a moment before glancing over at his monitor then turned his attention back to the data-pad.
". . .Can't blame them." She added
Prowl narrowed his optics knowing she was right about that, no denying that simple but obvious fact. Their leader, when at the Ark, often stayed in his office working or in the bridge but still then they saw him, often speaking with him. They knew where he was even if he wasn't as 'social' as some would call it.
The mech's that were currently in charge of their leader's project; the Artificer Project had sworn that no information would get out. It would be Optimus Prime himself who would inform the rest of the crew. Despite them knowing that them knowing that sometimes 'bots went on classified missions, they also knew something was up. It was just a matter of time.
"Ratchet has informed me," Prowl began "It shouldn't be much longer for the synchronization to be complete."
Humming within her chest Blair sat up straight and took one of the styluses that was lying not to far from where she'd been lying. The pen could fit snugly in Prowl's white hands but for her the thing was nearly half as tall she was. Surprisingly the thing was very light though still heavy enough she strained to pick it up.
Having gathered Prowl's attention he let his engine rumble in his chest. "You're not going to take that one apart too, are you?"
Chuckling to her self, Blair couldn't help but to smile as she walked over to an off-line digi-pad and used her foot to turn it on since her hands where full. "No, not this time." Tone amused
Blair could still remember that particular incident well, Prowl had left his office for a moment leaving the young women unoccupied. That hadn't been long since the two sisters had gotten to meet some of the Autobot's around the base. Giant sentient alien robots possessing what were essentially 'pens' fascinated Blair to no end and being a mechanic she was curious to see how one worked.
When Prowl had returned sometime later Blair was seated cross legged on his desk top, where he left her, pieces of the stylus lying around her. The expression on Prowl's face made her laugh since the look of dumbfoundment had seemed just out of character on his light colored faceplate. Stylus' had very interesting insides even if rather simple.
"I appreciate that." He stated continuing with his work once again.
000
No one really knows what it actually feels like when one first meets the world. Some Cybertronians are built in bodies that are capable of full function as soon as their systems fully online, the fact is; some are not. It's not a common thing these days, it hasn't been for a good several millenia for Cybertronain's because of the war. Their known commonly as 'sparkling's', small mechanisms who, by the wish of their creators or creator, to, simply put, 'grow' till their mature adults. The real reason why Cybertronian's wished this long and tedious method, it has often been said because the mech or femme admired the way organics raised their young, how they were able to become closer to their young, to really get to cherish their creations, it brought a whole different level of understanding between the two. But the real, original reason has been lost in time. That fact is only partially true in some regards.
Despite not grasping what was happening to him, what was happening was his systems were slowly on-lining in their own proper sequences. It was slow at first, a safeguard mechanism to help prevent his systems from going into shock, which would likely kill him. But it went just fast enough so the energies rushing through him could get to his life source in time so it wouldn't fizzle out and, which also could kill him. All this and more was a high possibility that could happen, and for one to not even see the world yet would be tragic.
Though he'd never remember these feelings, these thought's, he wondered briefly what were these strange sensations going through his being. It was odd and a little frightening with the feeling of weight he felt where none had been before. He'd been - something similar in sensation - drifting for so long this feeling was alien and he didn't like it. What felt like ages more and more impulses and sensations shows themselves. His back was touching something, something warm, but while comforting and soft it somehow didn't feel right, like their should be something else there behind him that wasn't. Lastly, he could here something, odd noises he'd never heard before. They were faint but no less noisy. He didn't like them. Why where they there? Why wouldn't they just go away? Then he felt something. Something that was normally their wasn't.
000
For the most part the room was dark only a couple light's where switched on as Ratchet worked silently in front of one of his large monitors in the room. Lying off-line, like he had been for the past near week equipment attached to him, the majority of it to his abdomen, Optimus still laid. For a while he laid their, silent, still, prone, not really focusing in on the sound that was reaching his audios. He was really beginning to dislike coming on-line disoriented and slightly nauseated. It was an uncomfortable feeling that he wasn't use to and one he wasn't sure he was capable to get use to.
What finally did make him really allow himself to become aware to his surroundings was a strange if not a little frighting feeling. Emptiness and something else.
"Optimus." It was Ratchet this time. "I know your on-line." Prime often wondered how the medic could sound both grumpy and amused at the same time.
Gently Ratchet helped Optimus to sit up enough to get a clear visage of the room but not so much he put unnecessary pressure on the fresh welds on his midsection. Something moving from the corner of this optics made him glancing over to the other side of the room. Optimus could see a small container on the floor with a few wires hanging out of it. Knelling beside it was Wheeljack cleaning up fluids and other liquids that had made their way to the floor when the objects that now sat in the container had been put inside. The glance was only a moment because of the thought of something that had once been inside of him if only for a little under a week - though it felt longer - was no longer there made him even more nauseated.
Looking up and taking in the room he noticed the proper mech's were present and to his slight surprise so was Teletran who was standing in the back hand on his hip staring off at something to his right.
"How you feel Optimus?"
Looking down, there was Blair again, a welcome site nonetheless. "Better though. . .odd."
"That's suspected." Ratchet stated looking at him. "Do you think you'd be able to stand?"
000
He wasn't really aware of what he was yet so he didn't realize what he really did next, not yet. His systems maybe instinctively sent a single to another part of his systems and the next thing he knew he could really, what we'd call, 'see'. What he saw above him was dark gray. He didn't know it at the moment nor would he for a while yet, but he couldn't see the color, though there wasn't really any other color beside gray to begin with. Shifting where he laid, he wanted what wasn't their, that was suppose to be there, back.
The names to what he felt he didn't know but he knew he didn't like them, he wanted them to go away for the presence he wanted back to come and sooth them, to make them go away. They were the feelings of loneliness, insecurity, fear. Even with the comfortable warmth around him he didn't want it, he wanted that other warmth, that other safety. Clenching his fists he then unclenched them and paused staring up at the dark gray above him. There! He could feel it! Why couldn't he see it? Where was it? He didn't care if he couldn't see it he just wanted it around him again, giving him that comfort he so desperately craved.
Just as he was about to call out for it to some how to get it to come to him two blurry objects came within his vision. He flinched away at the suddenness not just out of fear but the black figures suddenly making something within him hurt. His head. Shaking his head he look back up. The forms where more sharpened now but they were still black with shades of gray around them. Looking closer he noticed something off about the one on the left. The polygonal shapes staring down at him though gray somehow he knew they where suppose to be a shade of blue. Perhaps involuntary he let out a low, soft sound what it was he didn't know it just happened because he made it so. To those outside, to the figures above him it sounded like a whistle.
There it was! Somehow he knew that was the comfort and security just with an embodiment. The forms above saw him smile though he wasn't quite aware he was doing so. Perhaps it was then, when to objects appeared beside him that he realized he also had form just on a much smaller scale. The small obejects were his arms. This newly found realization only lasted a moment as he saw two large things coming down at him this time he really did flinch away. There was a faint sound around him but he didn't understand nor focus on them, the things had only pause a moment before continuing their decent on him and grabbing him around his middle. There was just a moment of weightlessness before, hesitantly after a few still silent moments, he on-lined his optics for the second time and he looked up.
The bright faintly gray eyes had more than just a black mass around them but actual volume. A head. The eyes looked down at him softly with a sense of utter fondness and love. Bringing his small hand he'd seen earlier, somehow knowing it belonged to him and would obey his commands, he brought it up an tentatively touched the gray thing below the eyes. It was solid and slightly warm to the touch.
This. . .this is what he had been wanting and now it was back with him again and he had no plans of letting it go.
000
He was so small so much so he easily could sit in the crook of his arm and still have room left over but Optimus Prime had never seen something. . .someone so beautiful. His light blue glassy optics staring up at him wide with awe and curiosity, his small hand touching his mask. Optimus leaned into the touch finally realizing what that odd sensation really was; it was the bond he'd made in the past week. The synchronization of his and his son's spark's. It also was beautiful and then and there, watching the small being press his cheek against his large chest and content in his red arms, Prime thought, he wouldn't have it any other way. That he, now, wouldn't know what to do with himself if that feeling he now had wasn't there.
"Who rides so late through the night and wind?
It's the father with his child;
He has the boy safe in his arm,
He holds him secure, he holds him warm."
- Erlking (1782) by; von Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
End. . .?
000
A/N:
About the poem. The two are the same, the first is the original German version the second is the English translation by Hyde Flippo on About(dot)com. Check out my blogger for details. If you look it up and read the rest of the poem, don't worry I know what the rest of it says I just liked the beginning of it.
Took to long. Sorry! I've never reworked something so many times. I may end up adding a ending to it but I'm leaving it as it is because a)the ending I didn't like b)and its about time I wrapped it up. Its an epilogue! Its suppose to be short! Oh, I was going to add a little more to the ending but I didn't want it to be cliche. But if you read my other stuff, one story particular, you know who the sparkling is.
But alas folks it's the ending. Despite being a little troublesome I absolutely loved working on this, there's a lot of stuff that I didn't include or left out or deleted, maybe someday and some time I'll post them up and all that. I really hoped you enjoyed it for those who read and what knot. To the great guy who this is dedicated to, MyBlueOblivion, I hope you enjoyed it also! Thanks for everything most of all your support giving me motivation/inspiration.
Do, please review; constructive crit. welcomed. Take your flames elsewhere.
TF's and all related char(s) belong to Hasbro, Takara, and all associated co.
Except for Blair, Teletran, the sparkling, and the plot, which are mine
Names and/of char(s) are entirely coincidental