Optimus had thought about quietly leaving the living realm since the moment he returned to it. Not because there was anything inherently wrong with his situation or to people in his life, but simply because he was… tired. He had no real way to explain it to others, all he knew was that he was exhausted with living and there was no real purpose for his continued existence anymore.
He had tried during his first few years after being brought back by the Primes to seek aid for his mental state. He knew he was by no means right in the helm, none of the mecha who participated in the war were. And so after some prompting from Ratchet and his old team, Optimus had gone to a kind mech named Rung to receive help.
He liked Rung. The therapist was a very understanding mech who did not care who his patient was, instead only focusing on how he could help. And while he had not fought on the front lines like many soldiers during the war, he had seen enough of it to help those suffering from the aftereffects. During his time working with Rung, Optimus had actually felt better about himself for a while. Rung had gotten him involved with the community, taking him to events and making him feel like a normal mech for a while.
Optimus, with the help of Rung, had gotten back into contact with his old friends and comrades from the war. They met regularly for a while to drink and discuss old times, swapping stories and enjoying the presence of other veterans. But as time passed, Optimus’s old friends started to move on. They still met with him and got along but it only served to make Optimus feel worse when they would inevitably start talking about their new lives. And when asked about his own circumstances, Optimus had nothing to say because he had nothing to do with himself.
No matter how hard he tried, there simply was no way for Optimus to be normal, even with Rung’s best efforts. Wherever Optimus went outside of his residence he was met with either praise or scorn from old and new bots alike. When the psychiatrist tried to get Optimus a job to help him fit in better, all of his applications were shut down immediately. He couldn’t work in the archives, the council, or in any diplomatic positions due to the fear of what his political power would do. He couldn’t work as an advisor, consultant, weapon specialist, scholar, bodyguard, or anything else for the same reason.
He even tried applying for simple jobs, like manual labor and mentorship of the young bots still emerging from the well, but those were also rejected for fear of public outcry. The old Autobots wouldn’t stand for their Prime working in the underbelly of the city and the Decepticons could take him mentoring new bots as a sign of future indoctrination. In the end, the council outright told him they wanted him to simply relax for the time being and await an opportunity to work again.
Optimus was no fool, and he knew what they were really saying. They wanted him to sit around like a pretty decoration until they found some use for him again. Whether their intentions for him were good or bad, it would still likely take a while with how divided the council was. They weren’t leaving him homeless, no, far from it. Since they denied him work, Optimus was living off the council, staying in quarters maintained by them, and any credits he used coming from a fund specifically for his use.
He was practically living in the lap of luxury. As long as he didn’t do anything outrageous and remained quiet he could do what he liked and use credits at his leisure. Some mecha might enjoy such a lifestyle, but for Optimus, it was suffocating and only served to prove that he was unneeded.
He was already weary of living, and without a youngling to look after, a war to win, or work to busy himself with, Optimus couldn’t find it within himself to continue on. However, he wasn’t the kind of mech to toss away the gift of life, not after so much effort went into his resurrection. Nor could he completely abandon his loved ones yet again like when he returned the Allspark to the well. His knowledge and wisdom would be needed one day, that much he knew.
Hence after much deliberation on his part and after weeks of looking through old files and the memories within the Matrix, Optimus came to a decision.
“Optimus, are you sure this is what you want? Are you positive nothing will change your mind? I would hate for you to regret this halfway through the process” Rung sat opposite Optimus at his desk with his digits laced together. The psychiatrist looked at him sternly, his glasses glinting slightly as he leaned forward.
“Yes, I am sure Rung. I have no purpose in this new world being built around me and I refuse to end up a tool for those in power to use to manipulate others” Optimus said calmly, his posture relaxed and his field perfectly smoothed and absent of any emotion. His decision was not made lightly, he knew the consequences that would come from his choice. But for once in his functioning Optimus wanted to be selfish, to do something purely for his benefit and his alone.
“Is there nothing I can do to make you reconsider?” Rung questioned earnestly. He was such a kind mech, Optimus was grateful for his continued efforts to help a broken being like himself.
“No, I am afraid not. However, I would like your assistance in making sure everything goes smoothly” Optimus answered honestly. He saw no point in dancing around the truth of the matter. He watched in silence as Rung went through a near unnoticeable series of emotions before settling on acceptance.
“Very well Optimus. What would you like me to do to help you?” Rung, at last, relented, adjusting his glasses and grabbing a notepad.
—----
“This place… are you sure?” Rung stood next to Optimus as he gazed at the remains of his home, his first home. The physiatrist was well aware of Optimus’s past living in the wilds as a sparkling through what he had shared during their many sessions. As such he understood the significance of the location more so than any other living mecha, save perhaps Ratchet.
In front of Optimus was a great open expanse covered in the melted and charred remains of what had once been the largest spire forest on Cybertron. All throughout the shattered landscape lay the remnants of ancient spires cut down for their resources, abandoned bunkers, long exhausted mines, and plenty of discarded trenches. If Optimus looked hard enough he could also see the lifeless bodies of the fallen strewn about haphazardly, the war making it impossible to give them a proper funeral.
“Yes, this is where I want to rest” Optimus could understand why Rung was slightly apprehensive of his decision regarding his chosen resting place. The land was scarred, and despite Cybertron’s restoration, the ground before him was still wounded, suffering from conflicts long ended.
“I understand you have an emotional connection to this area, however, the land is devastated, it is hardly habitable. Why choose this of all places?” Rung looked up at him questioningly, his glasses glinting in the light of the nearest star. Optimus sighed somewhat wistfully as he looked at the land before him again before answering.
“Because I want to help this land heal, and I want my presence in this place to serve as an eternal reminder of the pains our people suffered” Rung nodded in understanding and followed as Optimus tread across the territory, the weight of his frame causing the ground to crackle beneath his pedes. When he came across a promising spot he kneeled and examined the location more closely, scraping away the surface level of rubble to examine the living metal beneath.
An area with too little or tainted living metal would not support what he intended to do, especially due to his frame size. In which case things could go sour, turning what he intended to be a peaceful rest into eternal torment until his spark failed him. However, an area with too much living metal would speed up the process considerably, making his mind and spark deteriorate at a pace that was not desirable for his purposes. Not only that, but if possible he wanted to find a location that was easily accessible and had a nice view of the sky and the city in the distance. He wanted to be able to see the stars and his rapidly rebuilding world and be comforted in the knowledge that all was well when his memory inevitably started to fail him.
“Rung, would you mind examining this location? I would like a second opinion” Optimus asked as he at last found a place that appeared suitable. It was a small somewhat clear hillside amidst the devastation. At the top of the hill sat the shattered trunk of what was likely a millennia-old spire before it was destroyed, its silver sheen only slightly visible through the soot covering it. The ground around it was debris free enough that it would suit Optimus’s purposes and the living metal at the base of the trunk of the fallen spire seemed healthy enough.
And most importantly to Optimus, from the foot of the destroyed spire at the top of the hill, he could see everything for miles in every direction. The stars in the sky and the city in the distance were in full view, the lights of the swiftly growing capital city shining brightly even from so far away, But Optimus was never an impulsive mech, the opinion of another was something he always valued.
“My readings indicate that this land is suitable” Rung confirmed as he knelt and used a small scanner to check the living metal just below the surface layer of Cybertron’s crust. The physiatrist grunted a little as he stood and brushed off his knees, adjusting his glasses for what likely was the hundredth time that day.
“Quite a lovely view, I can see why you like this spot” Rung commented as he joined Optimus in watching the scenery.
“There is something strangely beautiful about seeing this war-torn land and the bustling city in the same field of view” The physiatrist noted almost absentmindedly and he took in the sights with a slightly awed and contemplative expression. Optimus hummed quietly in agreement and enjoyed a moment of silence with his companion before speaking again.
“How much would it cost to buy this whole area?” Optimus asked as he began running calculations in his sub-processing units. Rung muttered something under his breath and pulled out a datapad, rapidly scrolling through what must have been a dozen different tabs and files before coming to some form of conclusion.
“Considering your rank as Prime, your service during the war, and the relative uninhabitable nature of this area, I do believe that the council might just give it to you if you ask and have a reasonable reason for wanting it” Optimus nodded and did not tear his gaze away from the view as he processed the information, finally coming to a conclusion after few moments.
“Please send the council a message stating that I would like to claim ownership of this area for religious purposes” Rung side-eyed him but did as he was asked, writing out a quick form to be sent to the council before putting his datapad away.
“Religious purposes?” Rung questioned almost in amusement.
“In the old days, this particular form of rest was something the most zealous of priests engaged in. There were whole gardens devoted to the act” Optimus explained somewhat wistfully as he recalled the old gardens in the Citadel back before the war. Crystals of all colors grew and glowed in that garden, Optimus wanted to hope that perhaps the garden that would eventually grow around him as he rested would be of similar grandeur.
“Yes, I believe I recall going to the gardens once…” Rung trailed off and instead focused on the view as the light of the nearest star began to retreat, the day coming to a close. As darkness set in, Optimus could see small glowing shoots around the devastated forest. The spires were already beginning to regrow, soon enough the forest would return to its former glory, especially once he settled down to rest.
“Well then, as I am sure the Council will have no objections to your request, what do we need to do next?” Rung smiled softly and held his servos behind his back, straightening his posture.
“Next comes to two most difficult parts of this whole process. We will need to prepare all the necessary files to legalize what I intend to do, and then arrange a meeting with my family and friends” Optimus could feel the beginnings of a helm ache already begin to form as he considered just how chaotic the next few weeks were going to be. Beside him, Rung gave a sigh of sympathy.
“Joy of joys”
“Indeed”
—----
“Sir, what did you call us here for?” Ultra Magnus stood at attention as Optimus sat at the head of the prepared table and gestured for him to sit. The rest of the team had already taken their seats. Smokescreen and Bumblebee were bickering over some energon goodies, Bulkhead and Wheeljack were laughing but stopped at Ultra Magnus’s words, and Arcee and Ratchet simply waited patiently for an explanation.
It was a welcome scene after so many millennia of war, one he was going to sorely miss in times to come even if this was for the best in the end.
“I came to make each of you aware of a decision I have made regarding my future” That caught the team’s attention. He could feel Ratchet’s gaze boring into him with laser focus while the rest of the team just seemed confused. He had not called upon them once since his rebirth, never pushing for them to meet with him. They had lives now, he could not begrudge them that luxury after so much suffering.
“Optimus? Is something wrong?” Bumblebee spoke up, his optics cycled down in concern. Of course, Bumblebee could tell this meeting was not going to be a pleasant one. The former scout had always been very perceptive to Optimus’s changes in mentality. He had practically raised Bumblebee after all.
“I have no place in this world being built up around me. I am a relic from a time long past, an unnecessary burden and a potential weapon to be used to harm this fledgling civilization” Optimus spoke calmly with only a hint of grief in his voice as he went on. He met the gazes of every bot at the table, raising a servo to stop Arcee and Bulkhead from butting in with an objection.
“The age of Primes is past… but I am not so selfish as to deprive our people of the knowledge I possess. Thus I have decided that in a deca-cycle once my preparations are complete-” Optimus paused as the team began to grow fearful, to the point where even Wheeljack put down the knife he was sharpening to look on in worry. It brought a hint of guilt to Optimus’s processors, but he refused to back out now.
He was tired. He wanted to rest. Had he not earned that right?
“-I will be going immersant in the ruins of the old forests of Rodion” Ratchet spit out the energon he was taking a sip of with a wheezing cough as the liquid almost went into his ventilation systems instead of his tanks. He hacked for a moment longer as the rest of the team looked on largely in confusion, that is save for Ultra Magnus who quickly grew to look mortified.
“WHAT!?” Ratchet wiped away the energon he spilled quickly before rushing to his pedes, his optics blown wide and his field radiation pure disbelief. The fear among the rest of the team grew stronger as Ultra Magnus turned away to stand against a wall to not show his expression.
“Optimus! We just got you back! You can’t possibly be serious!” Ratchet threw his arms wide, his stance tense and everything about him radiating denial. Optimus merely sighed and once again raised a servo for silence as the rest of the team began muttering questions and demanding answers.
“My decision has been made. I will be doing this with or without your blessing. I have lived far too long and seen too much. I am tired Ratchet… I want to rest” The panic only grew amongst the team when Ratchet saw Optimus’s cold determined gaze, wobbled momentarily, and then fell into his chair with his face in his servos. Once again, Optimus felt guilt worm its way into his spark. However, he tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that he would linger for nearly a millennia before he fully gave himself to Cybertron’s embrace.
“I don’t understand, what are you going to be doing? What is this going immersant thing?” Smokescreen spoke up as the rest of the team reeled at both Ultra Magnus and Ratchet crying quietly by themselves. There was fear in his voice, terror for something awful he couldn’t understand.
Again the guilt kicked in, but Optimus made his choice. He wanted this and he had every right to do as he pleased when it came to his life after all he had gone through.
“It is an old tradition generally only applied to the frames of the deceased, however, it can also be done to the living” Optimus began his explanation slowly, not meeting the gazes of those present as he tried to word what he wished to say in a pleasant manner. He could feel Bumblebee and Smokescreen, the young mecha he saw as his own sparklings, staring at him with growing horror as he continued. He tried not to flinch.
“Those who wish it can offer their frame to Cybertron, allowing the land to reclaim them slowly over the course of many vorns. The mech is wired to the living metal beneath them and then slowly but surely from their frame a garden grows. Their mind connects to Cybertron itself and they feel the world as if it was their own frame” Optimus spoke softly, almost reverently as he remembered the vast gardens that flourished during the war. It was a rare thing for the living to offer themselves up, but it was far preferable to doing anything more violent to end one's own life.
“In a way, they are halfway to being one with the Allspark throughout it all… It is a peaceful end, one that ensures the mech in question can still interact and converse with loved ones right up until the final stages of the process when their spark, at last, extinguishes” Optimus finally looked up to see the absolutely shocked and horror-filled faces of his team. Every last one of them appeared two Kliks away from trying to interject, to stop him. However, he spoke again before they could.
“This is my choice. I was a Prime made for war, not for peace. I desire rest now that my time has passed” There was a long silence only broken by the screaming of cooling systems as Ratchet and Ultra Magnus cried, each doing their best to remain calm and collected. Soon enough Arcee sat back in her chair, totally defeated upon seeing Optimus’s conviction.
“But Optimus! We need you still! You are our leader! Our Prime!” Bulkhead exclaimed as he slammed his fist onto the table, cracking it in places. Optimus watched on sadly but said nothing as Bumblebee moved to add to the statement.
“Cybertron is only just being rebuilt! We need your guidance more than ever before! A-And… we just got you back… please, don’t leave us again” Bumblebee’s restored voice cracking nearly had Optimus reconsidering, but he held firm. This was his choice, his first and only true choice since the start of it all.
“I won’t be leaving you, not entirely. I will remain aware and conscious for the first half of the process and still be capable of communication later on. You will have time to seek my counsel as needed. As I said earlier, I am not so foolish as to deprive Cybertron of my knowledge” Bumblebee gripped the edge of the table like it was his lifeline all while Smokescreen just seemed lost and unsure what to say. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were stunned into silence as they watched Bumblebee seem to boil with rage and sorrow.
“Why? Is it something we did? Are you unhappy with Cybertron in its state? Is that why you want to abandon us?” His dear scout’s voice dipped and was laced with venom, his gaze was steely yet still so very pained. Optimus frowned and shook his helm slowly in response. That was not his reasoning at all. He was just… done with living and enduring. He had walked the world and traveled the stars for how many millennia now? He couldn’t recall.
“Then WHY Optimus?! How can you throw your life away when you just got it back!?” Bumblebee’s voice dripped with static toward the end of his pained cry which caused the whole team to flinch, all save for Optimus. He merely sighed and stood coming to Bumblebee’s side with quiet steps and pulling him into a hug.
Bumblebee struggled for a moment but then broke into sobs as Optimus held him close, singing softly and reciting an old lullaby from times long gone by. He held his sparkling as gently as he could, careful of his strength as he rubbed small comforting circles between Bumblebee’s door wings.
“Hush now, all will be well” Optimus muttered in a near whisper, all his sparkling wailed and the rest of the team did their best to process everything. He hated that he was going to leave them behind, but he had no interest in continuing on. When they needed a new Prime, one could come to his lifeless frame and reclaim it. He would guard the Matrix and its wisdom even in death.
They needn't fear. He would not leave them without ample time for goodbyes.
—----
A deca-cycle passed quickly as Optimus put his affairs in order. The Council panicked and did all they could to convince him to stop, but in the end, he won in his decision, leaving them to flounder. As they did that, he prepared his will and finally made his way toward his chosen resting place.
“Is everything ready?” He asked simply as he arrived, earning the solemn nods of the team of medics responsible for ensuring all went well. His team stood a ways off, watching silently as Optimus lay down in his chosen location and the medics reverently began connecting wires to his frame and attaching them to the living metal below him.
He didn’t feel any different as the connectors were hooked up and his frame was sprayed down with some sealants and deterrents to keep wild mechanimals away. He merely looked up to the skies calmly, feeling the Matrix thrum within him comfortingly as if it agreed with his decision. For the first time in ages, he felt almost at peace just… existing and seeing the stars so very far away without a care in the world.
A priest from the newly established primacy came and uttered an old prayer salvaged from the archives meant for this very occasion, but Optimus hardly heard it as something began to seep into his spark, a calming almost distant feeling that made the world a little less oppressive. The Matrix added to the strange sensation by giving Optimus comforting pulses of power which allowed his frame to relax more than he had ever thought possible, almost as if all strength were bleeding right out of him.
Normally he would abhor being unguarded, but as it was… it was comforting to not care and to lay in silence.
“Optimus, would you like to go over your will one last time to finalize it?” Rung came up to Optimus’s side, breaking him from the comfort that was seeping into every cable and cog, slowing his processors with a song of sorts that seemed to come from Cybertron itself. He nodded once, too tired to speak as he listened closer, hearing the thrum of the world beneath him as it sang in a way he could not yet decipher.
“Very well” Rung sat down by Optimus’s side as the medics left and his team gathered around to watch and wait, each listening to what was to be said. Optimus found he didn’t care very much. Everything was so much quieter, far less important as the song penetrated his very being, caressing his spark and washing his worries away.
It didn’t matter anymore.
“As his dying will and testament, Optimus Prime wishes for his frame to be left to go immersant and for it to be untouched and kept safe until the time comes for a new Prime to claim the Matrix” Rung listed off the first part of his will calmly, adjusting his glasses yet again as Optimus briefly looked over his team. They were all saddened, many with coolant gathering in their optics.
Arcee came to sit by his left side, touching his servo gently as she schooled her expression. However, Optimus could see the pain in her optics, the sorrow that came from watching him allow his frame to be taken by the world. Bulkhead and Wheeljack did not kneel beside him, but they stood at attention with utmost respect alongside Ultra Magnus, all with their servos held above their spark chambers solemnly.
“All assets and possessions belonging to Optimus Prime are to be distributed among his last remaining kin, listed to be: Arcee, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen” Optimus hummed softly as Smokescreen’s optics blew wide while he too knelt by Optimus’s side. The rookie paused, almost fearful as he held Optimus’s right servo momentarily until Ratchet took a place beside him.
His old friend looked genuinely pained as he continually ran diagnostics on habit. Optimus would have smiled, but he saw no need now. His team knew his spark, there was no need to do anything else now. He could rest, that is what the song told him, what the Matrix preached, and what his very spark proclaimed.
“Visiting rights are to be limited to the before listed kin and any they vouch for until six vorns have passed. At which point visiting rights are to be extended to primacy priests, archivists, scholars, and scientists of at least middle rank in their chosen field” Rung continued to speak as Ratchet touched Optimus’s shoulder, singing an old song from their youth while Bumblebee took up a place beside Arcee on his left. All of his team’s fields were pressed against him kindly, and that only served to ease him more.
He was not alone, nor would he ever be alone. The song welcomed him and the world accepted his offering. Cybertron knew him. Primus knew him. He was loved.
“The gardens that shall emerge from Optimus Prime’s frame are to be protected as a sanctuary by elite guardsmen. All guardsmen assigned to the gardens must be sworn to oaths to protect the Matrix until its next bearer arrives. The new Prime will be known upon arrival by Primus’s divine guidance, however, if that is not enough, the before listed kin may vouch for a potential bearer-” Rung continued on and on, running through passages upon passages of fail safes and other security measures that were to be put in place to ensure the Matrix could not be stolen or given to a false bearer. It was all so very irrelevant now.
All Optimus cared about were the comforting presences of those he held dear and the growing welcoming embrace of the world he loved so greatly.
“-This is the final will and testament of Optimus Prime, which is to be made public a vorn after his immersion has commenced” At last Rung finished and nodded simply before moving to stand a ways off. He would wait along with a medic from the citadel for a few deca-cycles to ensure the immersion process continued unimpeded until Optimus was fully connected to Cybertron’s systems.
Optimus was hardly aware of the passage of time as his systems slowed and the world drifted away in a sense. He could feel his optics become unfocused and the fields of the wreckers leaving him after a time. Then Arcee’s field moved away as well, soon leaving only Ratchet, Smokescreen, and Bumblebee.
“I don’t know if you can hear me, Optimus… but it was an honor to serve under you. Among all the others, you were the closest thing I ever had to a Sire” His optics refocused only momentarily in time for Smokescreen to press the crest of his helm to Optimus’s. For that, he managed a weak smile before everything turned into a blur again. Smokescreen’s field left him soon after and he was unsure of how long it had been when Bumblebee spoke next.
“Thank you for everything, Optimus. You raised me, taught me, and protected me through everything. There is no other I would ever give the honor of calling my Sire” Bumblebee too pressed the crest of his helm to Optimus’s in a touching farewell. For his sparkling, he managed to smile as well and even raise his helm the slightest degree to lean into the touch before he went lax once more.
The song was louder, more clear, and more soothing. It flooded his processors, and he could hear voices, the distinct songs of others singing within him. Was this Cybertron? The Allspark? He wasn’t sure, but he did know it welcomed him and beckoned him to join, to add his own music to the great choir.
“I want to be angry with you, Optimus, but I can’t. You deserve this rest… and I promise I will do everything in my power to honor our wishes and your legacy in your stead. Rest easy old friend and I pray you find peace in your new journey” Ratchet repeated the gesture his sparklings gave, and Optimus responded in turn, even managing to hum in a near whisper to let his dear friend know he heard him.
Then Ratchet left him too, and all was peaceful. It was just Optimus, the stars, and the world beneath him. Logically he knew Rung and the medic were still there, watching and observing to ensure all went well. However, he didn’t care much. It was peaceful amidst the song, and soon enough his optics shuttered and he felt his mind join the choir, resting and waiting for when he was to be called upon.
One day he knew he would be unable to be roused from his slumber, that he would grow so connected to the world that he could no longer escape it. But as it was, he was at peace, content to rest and relish in the joy that came from being part of something greater.
He was home.