Author's Note: This story takes place after Rebirth, where the Decepticons are more or less defeated and a new Golden Age is brought about on Cybertron. Optimus Prime is once again in command, and Rodimus has reverted back to Hot Rod. I've also chosen to resurrect Ratchet for my own purposes. If Optimus could be resurrected, perhaps the funeral barge containing the others could be salvaged and the other deceased Autobots restored.

Chapter One

The voices washed over him, garbled and jumbled together. Colors mixed and blurred before his optics, refusing to give him a clear picture. Error messages scrawled across his CPU. Not as many as he'd feared, but then again, that could be because the diagnostics had been damaged as well. The mech groaned to himself. This was not shaping up to be a good day.

"Hot Rod!" he heard voices call anxiously, and then a gentle arm was cradling his head. The world spun for a moment, then righted itself with a sickening jerk. He groaned. Why couldn't they just leave him alone to rest?

His vision faded to near-black as several pairs of arms lifted him as gently as possible and carried him off the battlefield. The part of him that was still lucid was wildly grateful for the dampers on his pain circuitry, or else he'd be in excruciating pain by now. His audio receptors strained to make sense out of the babbling around him, but his systems were just too strained. With a sigh, he gave in and allowed the darkness to claim him.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Ultra Magnus asked softly as he shut First Aid's back door, the patient ready for transport.

"Hard to say," the medic replied in his vehicle form. "He looks pretty banged up, but I've seen 'bots with worse injuries get up and keep fighting. I'll have to do a diagnostic to tell you anything else."

"Take good care of him," Magnus said, a small quaver in his voice betraying his concern. First Aid was not offended by the words - he understood that Magnus was merely worried about his friend, and was not casting aspersions on his medical abilities. "Will do," the medic replied gravely and drove off in the direction of Metroplex, being extra-careful not to jar his occupant.

Magnus turned back to the battlefield, a sudden white-hot flash of anger spreading through him. He would make sure that no others were injured that day! "Take that, Decepticons!" he yelled, firing volley after volley at the invaders.

"My lord, we are under siege!" Cyclonus exclaimed, ducking as a burst grazed his head. "Since when do the Autobots fight with such intensity?"

"No matter!" Galvatron snarled. "We will fight on until every last one is nothing but a pile of smoking rubble!" He suddenly changed his mind, however, when he was hit full-on by a mortar shell.

"My lord, you are injured!" the Decepticon lieutenant exclaimed, rushing to his leader's aid.

Galvatron batted him aside. "I am fine, fool!" he cried, ignoring the damage. "Decepticons, retreat! We cannot win this day!" His shrill command echoed across the battlefield, and with reluctance, the battered Decepticons began to pull out, already planning the next encounter in their minds.

"I thought they'd never leave!" Springer exclaimed jauntily as he knocked the dust off of his chassis, searching for any injuries that may seem minor but could cause a lot of fuel loss.

Ultra Magnus suddenly felt a pang, missing Hot Rod's jibes after a battle. Despite the young lad's short stint as Autobot leader, he still had a little maturing to do. And to tell the truth, though he'd never confess it to anyone, a part of him really liked the mech's wisecracks and crazy antics. It kept the old warriors like him from brooding too much about casualties and gave everyone a much-needed laugh. A black cloud seemed to be hanging over the Autobots as each warrior's thoughts turned to the much-beloved youth suffering in medbay. Each one said a silent prayer for their friend and wished him a speedy recovery.

"What a day," Kup said gravely as he walked up, startling Magnus out of his reverie.

The City Commander jumped. "Oh, it's you."

"Don't act so thrilled," the veteran snorted. "I'm going to get working on how those dang-blasted 'Cons got in here... right after I pay a visit to the lad, of course."

"That's just where I was headed, actually," Magnus confessed.

Kup hid a knowing smile. Ultra Magnus provided himself on keeping a level head during a crisis, but the old warrior could see that his friend was worried about Hot Rod. Try as he might to deny it, the City Commander had a soft spot where his young friend was concerned.

The two kept up a businesslike front as they walked to medbay, each unwilling to show just how worried they were about the war's latest victim. "So, any hunches on how the Decepticons slipped by us?" Magnus asked.

"One or two," the security chief replied. "I'll start investigating just as soon as I get back to my office. First, though, I'd like to make sure that the lad is okay, then I'll chew him out for getting distracted and assign four hours in the training room!"

Ultra Magnus chuckled, his spirits lifting slightly. "Hot Rod will be glad to be injured just to postpone that punishment!"

The two walked into medbay, stationing themselves by their young friend's side. Magnus reached out and gently touched the youth's limp hand, wishing he could transfer his strength to his stricken friend.

"I'm sorry," First Aid said gently, "but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to stand aside. This is a delicate procedure, and I'm going to need space."

"No problem, First Aid," Magnus said respectfully. "We won't be long."

Kup and Magnus watched silently as the Protectobot medic ran several scans and fussed over numerous monitors. Kup would never admit it, but being in medbay gave him the surges. He was a fighter, and through the course of his long life he had spent many times hooked up to these confounded machines, fighting for his life. He was staunchly glad that he had no idea what the equipment did - it would heal any Transformer it was hooked up to, and that was good enough for him.

His train of thought was broken by the sound of running feet. He turned curiously to see Ratchet, the Autobots' chief medical officer, rush in. The old warrior suppressed another shudder. There was yet another Autobot who had actually *been* dead but had been reactivated by the Quintessons, at Optimus Prime's request, and now lives to tell the tale. It was all just too creepy for him. Kup had lived with the specter of death by his side too long to fear it, but this was just too unnatural for him. Each robot had his or her time, and when it came, that was it. This whole reanimation thing just gave him the creeps.

"Ah good, you've started," the CMO said abruptly, never one for formalities. "Have you done a microscan? You never know what these 'Cons are capable of - they could've easily put some kind of corrosive liquid in one of their weapons, or perhaps a listening device. You've got to be ready for anything."

"I was just doing that," First Aid said calmly, letting nothing ruffle him. He was quite used to his superior's brusque manners and took it in stride, knowing that it was the result of too many emergency surgeries. When seconds count, small talk was an unaffordable luxury. However, once Ratchet saw that the situation was not critical, he could do more than his fair share of chitchat, and First Aid had seen first-hand Ratchet's willingness to party.

"Scan complete," the Protectobot announced without looking up from the stricken robot.

Ratchet glanced up briefly, keeping most of his attention on Hot Rod's torso, which he was trying to patch up with a temporary metal bandage plate. "No, no, that's Optimus Prime's scan that I took earlier this morning during one of his physicals. After I dragged him here, of course," he grumbled. Sensing that something was amiss, he glanced up, meeting First Aid's stunned expression. "What? What is it?"

First Aid gestured weakly at the monitor displaying Hot Rod's scan. "That's not Optimus' scan, it's Hot Rod's. But they've got far too many similarities for it to be a coincidence."

Ratchet had a very strange feeling, like they had just stumbled upon something earth-shattering, to use a human term. "Display Optimus Prime's schematics alongside Hot Rod's," he said hoarsely. There was a collective gasp as the files appeared side-by-side. It was obvious to even Kup and Magnus that these files were very much alike.

"What does it all mean?" Magnus asked softly, almost afraid to break the expectant hush in the room.

The two medics looked at each other meaningfully, then Ratchet nodded, as if agreeing to share what was on both of their minds. He gestured to First Aid to explain, which the Protectobot did a bit hesitantly. "There's only one reason that I can think of that would explain such incredible similarities in Hot Rod and Prime's schematics. As you know, such a detailed scan reveals detailed information on a Transformer, sort of like a blueprint, or DNA in organic life. The similarities between these robots could be purposely created, if someone desired to create a robot using Optimus Prime's schematics, but according to Hot Rod's file, he was created through a natural, though seldom used, Transformer birthing process on a remote outpost with scanty medical resources. He was constructed within his mother's body using the schematics of his progenitors, not in a lab, and there is no way, with his home planet's pitiful medbay, that he could be genetically altered."

Kup and Ultra Magnus were both gaping, the truth starting to slowly sink in. They both wrestled with the concept, realizing that this would have immense consequences. Magnus' mouth worked soundlessly, then gasped, "So that means-"

Ratchet nodded solemnly. "Optimus Prime is Hot Rod's natural father."