[personal profile] ante_luce
Title: Other Worlds [Part 6]
'Verse: G1 Transformers with a little TF:A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.



Another day, and they were a little closer to getting their friends home. Procedures were being finalised, supplies were being stocked, and the science mechs had locked themselves away, trying to exchange as much knowledge as they possibly could.

Once again, Jazz was in Prowl’s office, going over the day’s work when there was a knock on the door. The Ops mech turned as Prowl let the visitor in, almost dreading to see who it was. That Sentinel stood there, shifting uneasily, stunned them both into silence.

“Right, I know. Got the same treatment from Optimus Prime. May I speak to you, Prowl, sir? The Prime recommended I do so, and I think I should follow his advice.”

Jazz prepared to leave, but the SIC stopped him with a hand to his arm. Turning to Sentinel, the Datsun nodded. “Please return in an hour. I will be free then.”

The blue mech agreed, and as the door closed, the Porsche looked at Prowl in askance. The tactician looked back, tilting his helm in a querying manner. Jazz gestured silently at the now shut door, and the mech who’d just left, and the Datsun answered his unspoken question. “I enjoy this part of my day too much to cut it short. Grant me this one indulgence, Jazz.”

The Ops mech could only stare as the tactician seemed to realise what he’d just said. Shuttering his optics briefly and rapidly, Prowl seated himself once again, picking up a datapad at random. Doorwings flickered under his unwavering regard, and Jazz realised he was still staring.

“Ah… Right. So, that requisitions order from Wheeljack…”

And they resettled into their routine, Jazz’s CPU completely befuddled, and Prowl not meeting his optics once for the rest of the discussion.


= = =


Sentinel Prime shifted under Optimus’s optics, fighting not to show his uneasiness at that assessing gaze. The Optimus he knew… well he supposed Maintenance Prime always did have a certain… quality to him, and even as a washout, Sentinel could not help but think of the mech as an equal (perhaps his better, but he’d not progressed enough to admit that, even to himself). Seeing this Prime only made his Optimus’s characteristics even more obvious.

“Thank you for your apology, Sentinel.”

“I am sorry for my behaviour.”

“You’ve expressed regret, and a desire to change. I cannot ask for anything more.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Respect came so easily when speaking to this mech. Sentinel had not wanted to acknowledge it, thus his belligerence at first, but then that tactician had managed to strike a circuit in him. Sentinel might not have been the smartest, or the most tactful of mechs (oh face it, he knew he could be an aft, and up until now, he hadn’t let himself be bothered that everyone else thought that was his default setting), but Prowl’s words had made him care, sparking shame and a desire to match up to the mech the Ark’s SIC obviously held in high regard.

“If you would, Sentinel, could you explain why you have such a grudge against my counterpart?”

He blinked, looking up in surprise. Optimus’s expression was mild and non-accusing, genuinely curious.

“I… There were three of us, cadets at Autobot Academy. And one cycle we travelled to this organic planet…”


= = =


Optimus Prime sat there, looking at Sentinel with an unreadable expression as the blue mech wrapped up his story.

“I don’t understand why he did that, saved me at her expense. She loved him, and I was sure he loved her back. It… it was my fault we were there in the first place.”

The Autobot Commander cycled air quietly, then reached for an image capture, placing it before Sentinel. He looked at Optimus, curious. The Prime explained.

“This is my Elita-1. When the Ark left Cybertron, her team was responsible for ensuring that we could get away. My last sight of her then was as she was engulfed by an explosion.”

A myriad of emotions crossed Sentinel’s faceplates. Sympathy, sorrow, regret, and finally a stoic sort of blankness. Optimus continued.

“She did survive, and we managed to meet again, after several hundred vorns. But my point, Sentinel, is that sometimes we have to choose between what we want and what we have to do. I could not have turned the Ark back to pull Elita out of the blast radius of that explosion, or even to confirm her fate without risking all the mechs on board. I had to consider the Autobots who put their faith in me as their leader. I cannot claim to understand how your friend thought at that moment, but going back for your Elita-1 was too dangerous, with the energon about to explode and the spiders swarming, so he chose to save what he could. I would have done the same thing.”

“I didn’t need to be saved!” The blue mech hissed, and the Prime only tilted his helm thoughtfully at him.

“You were his friend, and he was the only one who could get you out of there. So he did. If he’s anything like me, that decision would have haunted him to this day, no matter that he couldn’t have done anything else.”

Sentinel stiffened, glancing away before the quiet admission was made. “He… he’s a lot like you.”

Optimus nodded, putting away the image capture. Changing the subject, he spoke again. “I hear the science team has made a lot of progress as to devising a means of returning you and yours home.”

“They have. Their reports say they’ll be ready with the final details in a few days, maybe a week.”

“That’s good. Before your team leaves though, I believe I’m not the only one you need to speak to.”

The blue mech was silent, sullen faced, and the Prime sighed patiently. “Consider it, Sentinel.”

“… I’ll talk to Prowl. I owe him an apology as well.”

Though the Autobot leader’s battlemask hid it, his smile was obvious in his tone and the approving look he gave the blue mech. “Then if there’s nothing else…”

“No sir. Thank you for your time, sir.”

“It was my pleasure, Sentinel Prime.”



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