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Ratchet and Optimus had been a thing for thousands of Earth years now. They had met when they were still very young, and quickly found comfort in each other. They were no new couple even when the Senate had awarded Orion with Primacy. Of course with this, there were a lot of strings attached. It was knowledge and power that was given to him by the very figure that a fair portion of their society worshiped, after all. So he had to learn to be a leader in all aspects, and a beloved one at that. Ratchet hadn’t given it a second thought when they whisked him away in order to train him into leadership.
Ratchet had thought little of this. In his mind it was actually well timed since he had to go away for more schooling to become certified as a surgeon. And by the sounds of it it would take about the same amount of time to complete. Ratchet watched from a distance and sent messages to Optimus telling him about his experiences and complaining about other things, wishing him well and such.
He rarely replied, but Ratchet didn’t take it to heart. Learning to be a great leader of Cybertron took time. There had to be plenty to learn.
When Optimus was finally able to return to him, it was a shock. While he was able to weave beautiful spoken narratives that moved the spark to action and he was capable of navigating the ways of leadership, diplomacy, and mediation; suddenly he couldn’t bring himself to lay a hand on Ratchet, or even meet his optics for more than a moment at a time.
Whenever they were alone in the same room for more than what was casual- Ratchet could feel the Prime’s field burn with shame.
It had taken Ratchet by surprise. Initially he thought he felt guilty that he hadn’t been able to reach out as often as Ratchet did. Perhaps he was under the wild impression that Ratchet was cross with him.
After Optimus refused to share a berth with him, he began to truly speculate. Perhaps he has done something. Was… was he unfaithful? Had he done something that has damaged their relationship beyond repair and was too ashamed to tell him?
Did… did he fall out of love with Ratchet?
All of these questions swirled around in his helm and eventually he cornered Optimus. He needed to know. But when he had been confronted he meekly denied all of these allegations.
He also refused to elaborate.
Ratchet didn’t hold this against him. He couldn’t. He refused to place even more pressure on him when he was barely holding the troops together with him being the sole leader. He couldn’t add to his overflowing plate. He refused to break him like that.
And so he waited patiently.
There was little time between his return and the war sparking into a raging flame, so there was little time to address these new found issues and there was even less time when the war encompassed Cybertron so fully that everything fell and Optimus was the only one leading anyone who wasn’t a Decepticon.
But now, with the war being just hot embers in the distance, they suddenly had some time.
Now they sat in their ship, rocketing away from Cybertron, in the privacy of their shared quarters. Optimus stood in the doorway to their berthroom, Ratchet sat upright on the edge of the berth. The poor prime stood, trembling. His EM field spiraled tightly around his frame, burning hot with shame. Ratchet didn’t know what those monsters did to his beloved Orion, but whatever it was he wanted them to die for it. He took a soft and deep vent reminding him that this was neither of their fault.
“Optimus,” he called over to him gently. “It’s alright… it’s just me.”
He didn’t reply immediately, hiding his face a little more. His spark wound tightly with conflict.
“Optimus,” he tried again. “Can we talk a little bit about what’s going on?” He asked as he extended his field a little bit more, like he was trying to coax a frightened child out of a hole.
“I… I’m so…. So sorry Ratchet..” He murmured, pressing himself a little tighter to the door jam, hiding his face. “This isn’t fair to you…”
“It doesn’t matter, there isn’t anything to be sorry for, ” Ratchet replied gently. “I just want to talk to you. I want to find out what’s going on with you… please, Orion?”
A moment passed and mech in the doorway turned his head enough to look at Ratchet. He sat there in their berth giving him a small loving smile. A loving smile that Optimus felt was undeserved. “Come talk with me. I’m not upset with you. There’s not any reason to fear me,” he tried, his voice still gentle and soothing. Deep down Ratchet felt like he was brushing a flower petal against an open wound.
“Do you want to leave?” He asked softly.
“No.” Optimus replied quickly.
“Okay. I want you to know that you’re allowed to leave if you want to,” Ratchet said. A gentle reminder of the past for him. Optimus had always been allowed to walk away from Ratchet. Always… But he didn’t want to walk away. Ratchet could see it in him. He was fighting something inside of himself.
Another moment passed of him cowering against the door before he took a breath, gathering conviction before he turned to walk closer. Every step taken towards Ratchet was shaky and unsure, but he made it to the edge of the berth before sitting down.
Inwardly, Ratchet was overjoyed. This simple thing was more progress. More progress to repairing what had been done to him.
Optimus looked down, still unable to look at him directly. “I… I know you deserve an explanation…Where should I start…” He asked him.
“Wherever you would like,” he replied. “I’m here to listen. Whatever you want to tell me.”
Another moment of silence passed as he gathered himself, nervously swallowing. “When… when they took me to teach me how to be a leader… There were a lot of do’s and don’ts. They… they weren’t happy when they found out that you and I had been seeing each other,” he started. “I was told that… that it wasn’t fair of me to have someone beside me in the nature that you were. As a Prime, desire was something that I wasn’t meant to have because it led to bias. I shouldn’t favor one subject above the rest…To have a favorite meant I wasn’t being truly fair… That I wasn’t being a good leader and therefore I must be unattached to desire… ”
He glanced over at Ratchet, who had made no change in his expression. He must remain calm. This was neither of their fault and getting upset would do more harm.
Optimus looked down again, no longer able to continue. Those optics seemed so distant. They wavered back and forth between a few different spots on the floor. Oh how Ratchet wanted to wrap him up in an embrace, to cuddle and kiss the pain away and whisper that everything was okay.
He reminded himself that everything in fact, was not okay.
But he was going to make it okay. Even if it took another thousand years and another thousand after that.
Patience.
He took a slow deep vent to ground himself.
“Is that why you feel so ashamed? Because they told you you weren’t allowed to want something?” He asked, mindful of his tone. He had to pull out his doctor's voice for this. The one he used with trauma patients when he asked them what had happened to them, the one he used with small younglings with broken limbs and young rape victims bleeding from their ports.
His spark pulsed painfully.
They would suffer for what they did to his beloved.
Later. Not now. Later. Optimus needs me. He willed himself to repeat.
“They… they didn’t just tell me…” Optimus murmured, tensing up and turning his face away a little more. His voice was so quiet Ratchet almost had to strain to hear it. “They… taught me… They said you were a bad habit. I tried to resist but they… they only punished me worse….”
“Punish you? What did they punish you for?” He asked, clamping down hard on the anger roiling deep in his spark. He kept his field and his voice even and calm. Even if it boiled under his plating, and he could feel the seams in his left servo straining as he clenched it into a fist.
“For… wanting anything…” he murmured his optics glossing over a little bit. “For emoting inappropriately… for not doing good enough in my lessons…”
“And what did they do to you when you did those things?” He asked softly. Stress notifications flashed from his servo on his HUD.
“It varied…” his field continued to burn against Ratchet’s. “In the beginning I would have to walk to the temple to repent as punishment. But soon they began taking…. Some more serious measures in order to get me to learn…”
“Like what?”
He paused fighting with his servos in front of him. Ratchet didn’t press him, sitting quietly while he waited for Optimus to gather the thoughts. His optics fell still on the carpet. He was likely remembering what he had been put through. “I was always supervised…” he said quietly. “By different people. All the time… If I looked like I was enjoying something a little too much, then there was someone who would shock me with a prod before sending me to the temple… sometimes as a punishment they would take my next ration and pour it over my head and they would make me walk to the temple like that.” He paused, continuing to fidget with his servos. “If I didn't do well in a lesson, it would be icy water. If I asked for something or I was caught with something that wasn’t work related I was struck over my wrists with a lash… and it didn’t matter who was around me. They weren’t afraid of punishing me in front of others or in public. It was always humiliating…”
Ratchet concentrated on his ventilations as Optimus tapered out again. He became quiet and still. Panic sat heavy at the bottom of his tanks.
Never in the long time they have been together, did Ratchet think he would ever lose him.
But now?
When did the very sight of him cause such anxiety?
He should have paid more attention. He should have grown suspicious when he grew distant.
How dare they hurt him…
How dare they train him like a mechanimal. How dare they humiliate him.
How dare they traumatize him.
He was going to lose his sweet Orion and he didn’t know if he could do anything about it-
There was a shaky, gentle hand enveloping his. His vision had grown blurry and his frame trembled with grief.
He was crying, he numbly realized. Tears dripped down his cheeks. His vents hitched.
“Ratchet…?” Optimus murmured, still looking down. “I… I know this is really frustrating for you… but know that I still love you…”
He wiped away tears fruitlessly with one servo, a helpless sob slipping from his vocalizer.
“…I don’t want to leave you…” he whispered, squeezing his servo. “… Even through everything I was put through… I… I refused to let them make me leave you…”
They sat there for a while, together. Linked by servos. Rocketing away from Cybertron.
How he wished he could heal this wound.