To Tell the Truth

[A/N: Please read all the way to the end.]

***

My name was Orion Pax. It wasn't a valiant name. It wasn't a name that alluded to riches. It was my name and it fit me perfectly in every way.

Until the day I died.

But it wasn't a true death. My spark never left my body to join that of the Matrix. No eulogy was read, and no tears were shed. I merely stepped out of one body and into the next.

I became a Commander and a soldier. I fought for freedom and for peace. I, and every other Transformer who chose to join the Autobot army, defended Cybertron from the Decepticons.

I became Optimus Prime.

***

It hadn't been long after I had been remade when something happened, something I still keep buried deep within my spark. If the truth were ever to be known… I shudder to think of the consequences.

It was my 12th mission as Optimus Prime. 'The battle of Tolmet's Crossing', it would come to be named, long after the fight was over. It was an old storage facility, one very much like the one I used to work at. The Decepticons had formed a base within the buildings, using the maze-like layout to their benefit. The years I spent working in storage facilities proved invaluable; we held the advantage over the Decepticons, eventually weeding them out.

But there were Autobot casualties. We lost a lot of good men that day.

In the aftermath, I, along with several other Autobots, were scouting the area. Looking for anything salvageable, for survivors, and for bodies.

I scoured the area, lifting sheet metal and entering buildings. That's when I heard a faint cry. I followed it, weaving around to avoid the debris. I eventually came to small building. It looked like an old storage shed and smelled of cleaning supplies.

I entered.

It was clearly a Decepticon's dwelling. There was ammunition on the floor, assorted junk scattered everywhere, and empty Energon cubes stacked upon one another. In the corner sat an empty missile shell covered with sheet metal.

I heard the cry again, its origin was clearly from the corner. Kneeling down, I shifted the metal gently, revealing the small form below. He looked up toward me with shattered optics.

I gently lifted him up and cradled him in my arms. His half obscured Decepticon symbol left no doubt to which fraction he belonged.

***

Upon returning to camp with the youngling in my arms, Ratchet had replaced his broken optics with blue ones. He later released the mechling into my care, at my request.

It's been many Vorns since that day. But it is still as fresh in my databanks as the day it happened. It's a dark secret I harbor and is one I simple cannot speak.

Because for all my nobility, I do not have the spark to tell Ironhide he is a Decepticon.

***

[A/N: Thank you for reading, ^^ And constructive criticism is welcome. I wish to improve my writing.]