----
The Weight of Silence Optimus Prime's silence was both a comfort and a burden to those around him. For as long as the Autobots had known him, their leader had been the beacon of strength, resolve, and compassion. But now, after his fateful battle with Megatron, a change lingered in the air—a heaviness that even the others couldn't quite understand.
His mind was a storm of memories, battles, and the haunting echo of his last words to his old friend turned enemy. Megatron, the name that had once stood alongside his own as a symbol of Cybertron's hope, had fallen, extinguished in a blinding surge of energy, leaving Optimus to face a Universe now more silent, more uncertain.
Yet, around him, life on Earth continued, Autobots and humans alike pressing on with a future Optimus wasn't sure he felt part of anymore.
----
Ratchet's Pov:
Ratchet watched Optimus closely. They had been through millennia of war together, and no Autobot understood Optimus better than he did. Ratchet could see it—the way Optimus's shoulders slumped just slightly, the way his optics dimmed a fraction more each day. The Optimus he knew would never voice his sorrow; he carried too much responsibility to allow himself the luxury of grief. But Ratchet could see through the cracks.
"Prime, you've been quiet lately," Ratchet murmured, though he knew what the answer would be.
"I am merely focused on our next steps, old friend," Optimus replied, his voice even but lacking its usual strength.
Ratchet knew better. He had seen Optimus stand against armies without faltering, but this... this weight of loss and guilt was different. Optimus had always hoped Megatron could be redeemed. He knew Optimus had harbored that hope, that some fragment of Megatron's former self—the ambitious idealist who had once fought for Cybertron's freedom—might resurface. Now, with that hope gone, Ratchet feared that Optimus's resolve might waver too.
But he stayed silent. He knew that Optimus needed to heal in his own way, and yet, he couldn't shake the fear that their leader might never fully recover.
----
Bulkhead's Pov:
Bulkhead wasn't one to dwell on heavy emotions. He preferred to face his problems with his fists rather than his thoughts, but even he could sense something off about Optimus. Since the battle with Megatron, the Prime had withdrawn, his presence muted, almost ghostly.
"Y'know, Bee, Prime just… he ain't himself," Bulkhead said one day as he and Bumblebee worked together in the base.
Bumblebee's bright chirp echoed in agreement, his blue optics casting a worried glance toward Optimus. Bulkhead tried to shrug it off. He had always seen Optimus as invincible, the rock they all leaned on. Prime could take on anything and come out the other side standing tall. But this time, something felt different. Optimus was carrying a burden that even Bulkhead could sense, and he had no idea how to help.
Instead, Bulkhead pushed the thought aside, deciding to focus on his missions. He knew he was better suited to smashing Decepticons than sorting through emotions, but he hoped that in time, Optimus would find his way back to them.
----
Arcee's Pov:
Arcee's experiences had hardened her; loss was an all-too-familiar companion in her life. She knew what it was to lose comrades, to see those you care about fall, and to fight on, even with a shattered spark. Watching Optimus now, she saw a reflection of her own struggles—a kind of numbness she knew well.
But this was Optimus, and the thought unsettled her. She had always counted on his strength to guide them, and the idea of him grappling with loss made her chest tighten.
She wanted to speak up, but every time she tried, the words caught in her throat. What could she possibly say? "I understand"? She knew that Optimus's grief went deeper than her own. It wasn't just about losing a battle. It was the death of hope, a hope that had been kept alive for eons, even as Megatron turned into everything they fought against. Now, that hope had died alongside Megatron, and in a way, she feared that a piece of Optimus had, too.
----
Bumblebee's Pov:
Bumblebee, the youngest of them, felt helpless. Optimus had always been his hero, the one he aspired to be like. In his optics, Optimus could never falter. But now, as he watched his leader from a distance, he felt a strange anxiety he'd never known before. He could hear the faint static hum in Optimus's voice, the subtle difference in his tone.
To Bumblebee, Optimus's grief was a mystery. He didn't fully understand the bond that had once existed between Optimus and Megatron. All he knew was that Optimus was different now—colder, more distant. Bumblebee longed to say something, to cheer up his leader somehow, but he was left wondering if he even could. So, he did the only thing he knew: he remained close, hoping that his loyalty would be enough.
----
The Humans' Pov:
Meanwhile, the humans—Agent Fowler, Jack, Miko, and Raf—had noticed, too. Agent Fowler had always admired Optimus's resilience. As a man hardened by his own battles, he understood the toll leadership could take. But Fowler saw the hollowness in Optimus's eyes, and it worried him. It was a vulnerability he had never seen in the Autobot leader before, and he wondered if even Optimus could shoulder such a loss alone.
For Jack, Miko, and Raf, the change in Optimus was more abstract, something they could sense but not fully comprehend. Jack, who had always looked up to Optimus as a father figure of sorts, felt a sadness he couldn't explain. He watched his hero with the kind of concern one would have for family, aching to help but feeling powerless to do so.
Miko, always the energetic one, found herself quieter, and even Raf, the quiet observer, couldn't help but worry. The silence that surrounded Optimus was unnerving, almost as if he had become something other than himself—a shadow of the leader they had known.
----
Optimus's Prime's Pov:
Optimus... no Orion just for this moment struggled to make sense of his own emotions. The guilt was overwhelming. He had fought for so long, hoping for an end to the cycle of violence that had ravaged Cybertron and Earth. He had believed that Megatron, somewhere deep within, could return to the bot he once was. But now that possibility was gone, buried with Megatron himself.
And so Optimus was left with the silence, the crushing realization that for all his hope, he had failed to save the one who had once been his brother. The war was over, but the peace he had sought felt as distant as ever.
In the stillness of the base, Optimus's mind replayed the final moments of the battle—the fierce glow of Megatron's optics as they faced each other for the last time, the look of defiance that was as familiar as it was haunting. He would carry that memory with him, a weight heavier than any he had known.
But as he looked at his team—at Ratchet's quiet support, Bulkhead's worry, Arcee's understanding, Bumblebee's loyalty, and the concern of the humans—he realized that he was not as alone as he felt. They were his family now, and though he might never fully escape the shadow of his grief, he knew they would stand by him as he had always stood by them.
And so, with a quiet resolve, Optimus took one more step forward.
----
A few weeks later
MECH's Secret Laboratory
Far beneath the surface of a forgotten desert, the MECH lab buzzed with activity. Rows of cold, metallic benches were crowded with scattered pieces of Cybertronian technology, evidence of MECH's relentless pursuit of stolen alien tech. Silas stood at the center, his eyes gleaming with an ambition that bordered on madness as he observed the towering figure before him. It was a monstrous fusion of human engineering and Cybertronian design—a mech that looked startlingly like Megatron.
Its frame was nearly complete. Jagged silver armor encased its body, adorned with the same brutal contours that had defined the Decepticon warlord. Silas had spared no effort in ensuring his creation captured Megatron's raw presence. As he admired his work, he felt the thrill of wielding a weapon that could finally put MECH on the map, a weapon capable of dominating the Autobots and controlling the world's governments through sheer terror.
"Activate it," he commanded, his voice echoing in the cold, lifeless chamber.
A technician flipped a series of switches, sending currents of energy through the massive machine. With a whirring hum, the mech's optics flickered to life, glowing a blood-red hue eerily reminiscent of the real Megatron. It was an abomination, a mechanical imitation that captured the cruelty but none of the substance that had once defined Megatron.
The imitation's optics scanned the room, and for a moment, it felt as if Megatron's spirit had returned, if only as a hollow shell crafted by human hands.
"Project Nemesis is ready," Silas announced, a triumphant grin crossing his face. "Now, let's see what it can do."
----
Optimus's First Encounter with the Nemesis
The Autobots were the first to hear about the sightings—strange, hulking figures resembling Vehicons patrolling a small industrial area, accompanied by something that sounded disturbingly like Megatron. It was Ratchet who relayed the news, his tone urgent and his optics clouded with disbelief.
The Ghost of Megatron Optimus Prime's heart surged with a familiar fire as he faced his enemie, his optics blazing with a fierce intensity his team hadn't seen since Megatron's death. Just moments ago, he had received word of a new threat, one bearing a disturbingly familiar shape—a hulking figure bearing the unmistakable silhouette of Megatron.
"I'm telling you, Optimus, the reports are consistent. It has to be a trick… or some sort of Decepticon trickery there's no way a bunch of humans could even understand cybertronian technology," Ratchet warned, his voice laced with concern.
But this apparition could only mean one thing: MECH, the rogue paramilitary group with a vicious thirst for power, had been experimenting with Cybertronian technology. And this time, they had crossed a line, resurrecting the visage of the warlord who had once terrorized worlds. MECH's leader, Silas, had always been dangerous, a relentless predator lurking in the shadows. Now, it seemed he was hungry for more than power—he wanted control over something that could shake the foundations of Earth if it's not a Decepticon trap.
Optimus felt his spark stir in response. "We must investigate," he said firmly. "If there is even a chance…"
He left the sentence unfinished. If there was even a chance Megatron had somehow survived, it was something he had to face, no matter what it cost him. The Autobots could only exchange uneasy glances as Optimus led them toward the coordinates, their minds filled with the same question: could Megatron have truly returned?
When they arrived, the sight chilled them. Towering over the facility was a figure that bore an uncanny resemblance to Megatron, his broad shoulders and gleaming red optics casting an ominous glow over the scene. Around him, smaller drones moved in sync—cruel attempt at Vehicons, each unit devoid of a spark, cold and soulless.
Optimus felt a shiver down his frame. He wanted to believe it wasn't real, that this was a deception meant to break his spirit. But the mech before him looked, moved, even sounded like Megatron. For the first time since that fateful battle, hope and dread mixed within him.
"Megatron!" Optimus called, his voice laced with the gravitas of their last encounter. He knew it might be foolish, but he couldn't stop himself. He wanted, needed, to know.
It had to be impossible. He had watched Megatron fall, seen his spark fade in a burst of light. The Decepticon leader was gone. Yet, somewhere deep in his spark, a part of Optimus believed—no, hoped—that his old friend, his nemesis, could still exist. Even if it was only a chance to confront the specter of their rivalry once more, to seek the redemption he'd once dreamed of for his fallen brother.
The figure turned toward him, and the imitation's optics glowed brighter, as if registering the name. For a moment, Optimus felt the specter of his old enemy truly standing before him.
"Prime," the imitation rasped, its voice a hollow echo of the real Megatron's.
The Autobots shifted uncomfortably as the battle began, unsure of what to make of the duplicate. But for Optimus, clarity arrived with the first clash. This was not Megatron. The replica fought without conviction, its moves predictable and clumsy compared to the brutal elegance he had come to expect from his old foe.
His anger began to swell, consuming his initial hope and replacing it with a simmering rage. This… thing was nothing more than a mockery, an abomination created by humans who had no understanding of the bond that once existed between them. This was no resurrection—it was a desecration of the memories he held close, and that realization drove him to fury.
With each swing of his blade, his strikes grew fiercer, and his optics burned with a ferocity the Autobots had never seen in him before. This wasn't the noble Optimus Prime they knew; this was something far more dangerous, something darker.
"You defile the memory of my brother," he snarled as he plunged his blade into the chest of the imitation Megatron. The machine staggered back, sparks flying from the wound, its systems failing under the onslaught.
The Autobots could only watch, stunned and helpless, as Optimus tore into the machine with a savage intensity. He struck again and again, until the imitation collapsed into a smoking heap of metal and circuitry, its optics dimming into nothingness.
For a moment, silence reigned. Optimus stood over the wreckage, his frame heaving, his blade still dripping with the imitation's shattered parts. But as the adrenaline faded, so did the fire that had driven him. His optics dimmed, the weight of his actions crashing down upon him.
This had not been a victory. It had been an exercise in futility, a reminder that Megatron was gone and nothing would ever bring him back. He had been fooled into believing he could recapture something of his past, even if it was in battle. But it had been a hollow victory, as empty as the shell MECH had created.
Without a word, he turned, his shoulders heavy once more. He could feel his strength fading, his purpose slipping. The rage that had fueled him drained away, leaving only a numb emptiness behind.
----
Aftermath A Darker Optimus
The Autobots regrouped, gathering around their leader, their faces etched with concern and confusion. Bumblebee let out a worried chirp, his optics fixed on Optimus's slumped form.
Ratchet took a tentative step forward. "Optimus… are you alright?"
Optimus didn't respond, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to speak, to offer them the reassurance they all craved. But then, his optics dimmed, and he simply turned away, transforming without a word.
The rumble of his engine faded into the night as he drove off alone, leaving his team behind in stunned silence.
----
The Autobot Base Jasper Nevada
The Autobots returned to base after dismantling MECH and Silas is in custody, but the atmosphere was tense. None of them could shake the image of Optimus tearing into the imitation Megatron, nor the look of desolation that had followed when he realized it was only a ruse. They had always known Optimus to be a pillar of hope, a leader whose sense of justice never faltered. But what they had seen today was different.
"He… he looked like he was enjoying it," Arcee murmured, a haunted look in her optics. "Not like Prime at all."
"I'm worried about him," Ratchet said, his tone somber. "He's carried too many burdens for too long, and with Megatron gone… it's like he's lost a part of himself."
Bulkhead nodded. "Yeah, it's like he doesn't have anything left to fight for."
Bumblebee chirped softly, voicing his own confusion. They had seen Optimus in battle countless times, but never with that kind of raw, unrestrained fury. It was as if losing Megatron had torn something essential from him, leaving only the rage and bitterness beneath.
----
Optimus Prime Pov:
Miles away, Optimus sat alone, his frame parked on a cliff overlooking a dark, quiet valley. The night stretched before him, silent and indifferent. For the first time, he felt the full weight of his isolation. The war was over, his nemesis defeated, yet victory had brought him no peace.
In Megatron's absence, he had been left with nothing but the hollow reminder of all he had lost. The friends, the comrades, the worlds he had failed to protect—they lingered in his mind, an endless reminder of the cost of leadership.
The winds of the barren desert outside howled, but it was the silence in his own mind that was deafening. He had once believed in a future where peace could be achieved, where the Autobots and Decepticons could rebuild Cybertron together. But that hope had been shattered, not by the war, but by the death of Megatron. As much as Optimus hated to admit it, he had always believed there could be a sliver of redemption for his old foe, a chance for them to build a new future together, even if it was forged through an uneasy truce. But now, with Megatron gone and the Decepticons scattered, that dream seemed impossible.
He thought of the imitation—the mockery MECH had created. That hollow shell had only reinforced his greatest fear: that the war was never truly over. It wasn't just about Megatron's death, but the conflict that had consumed them both, leaving scars that would never heal. He had spent so long fighting for a future, but now, it seemed like everything had crumbled away, leaving him adrift in a sea of despair.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft crackle over his comms. Ratchet's voice filtered through, sounding strained.
"Optimus… you there?"
Optimus didn't respond immediately. He wasn't sure what to say, or if he even had the strength to speak. He'd spent years leading his team, protecting them, and holding onto the hope that their sacrifices meant something. But now, he questioned whether he had anything left to offer.
"Optimus…" Ratchet's voice was insistent, almost pleading. "Please… we're all worried about you. We need you. You need to come back."
Optimus stood slowly, his frame heavy with the weight of the words. As much as he wanted to retreat further His team needed him, even if Optimus wasn't sure he could give them anything anymore. With a deep, weary sigh, he transformed and left the quiet desolation of his solitude, heading back to the base, his spark heavy with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
As Optimus arrived back at base, he was met by his team, their faces filled with concern. Ratchet was the first to step forward, his optics softened with understanding.
"You don't have to carry this alone, Optimus," Ratchet said gently. "We're with you. Always."
Bumblebee chirped and nudged his leg, a small, comforting gesture. Arcee and Bulkhead stood behind them, their silent support as unwavering as ever.
Optimus felt a flicker of something in his spark, a small but familiar warmth. They didn't see it—couldn't see it—but Ratchet knew. Optimus wasn't the same. They were too happy to have him back, too eager to forget what happened, to notice that something within him had shifted. His words, his mannerisms—they were all still "Optimus," but there was a coldness in the way he carried himself.
With a deep breath, he finally spoke, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of the past.
I don't know what comes next," he said, his voice steady, but heavy with an unspoken pain. "But I do know this: I will never stop fighting for Cybertron. For you. For my family."
The Autobots nodded, their belief in him unquestionable, but Optimus felt nothing no warmth in their support. They were his family, and yet he had never felt more alone. The war might be over, but a new battle had begun—a battle for his own soul.
As they gathered around him, their belief reaffirmed, Optimus stood motionless, his mind already elsewhere. He was a leader, a symbol of hope, and they needed that from him. They deserved that from him.
But the truth was far darker. He had nothing left to give but he will try for they deserve it.
----
Days passed, and life at the base resumed a semblance of normalcy. But Optimus's changes only deepened. It wasn't obvious to the others but Ratchet noticed. His leader no longer engaged with the team in the same way. The moments of quiet contemplation had become longer, and there was a certain coldness to the way he interacted with them.
Optimus was still a warrior, still their commander, but something inside him had broken, and it was beginning to manifest in ways that no one could explain though he masks it Ratchet is still concerned.
One evening the children have been taken to their homes and the rest of the Autobots are recharging in their berths as Ratchet worked alone in his medical bay, he received a private message from Optimus. It was brief, but it was enough to make his spark skip a beat. Optimus had requested him to make adjustments—modifications— to his body.
"I no longer feel comfortable in this frame my friend I need a change I have made schematics for a new frame." Optimus had written. "I need this Please, Ratchet."
Ratchet stared at the message, his mind racing. Modifications? For what purpose? Optimus was already one of the most advanced Cybertronians he had ever known. Was he breaking? Was the weight of leadership finally taking its toll?
He couldn't just ignore the request, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. Optimus was their leader, and if this was truly what he wanted, Ratchet would comply. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something is wrong.
Ratchet found Optimus standing in the center of the lab when he arrived, his towering form still and silent. The faint glow of his optics barely illuminated the dim room.
"Optimus," Ratchet said softly, his voice hesitant. "I… I don't understand. You've never asked for this before. Why now?"
Optimus turned slowly, his optics dim and distant, as if seeing through Ratchet rather than at him. "I need to be stronger, I need a new start, Ratchet," he replied, his voice cold, detached but with a hint of warmth. "I need to be prepared for the future. For whatever comes next so I can keep you all safe I do not want to see anyone fall."
Ratchet studied him for a moment, his optics narrowing. But then he saw Prime and saw his desperation his fear he hasn't seen Optimus like this since before he was a Prime. His leader had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and now, it seemed, he was looking for a way to bear it more efficiently.
"I'll do it," Ratchet said, his tone reluctantly agreeing. He could feel the tension in his frame, but there was no turning back.
Optimus nodded, but there was gratitude in his expression.
As Ratchet moved to begin the necessary modifications his thoughts lingered on the path Optimus was walking.
They had all fought for peace—fought for a future where Cybertron could rebuild—but in the end, it seemed that future was nothing more than an illusion.
Optimus had always believed in the possibility of redemption, even for Megatron. But now, that hope was gone. The darkness that had once threatened to consume Megatronus was slowly creeping into Optimus himself but held back by Prime's compassion.
----
Soundwave's Pov:
Unknown to the Autobots, in the depths of space aboard the Nemesis Soundwave watched this unfold within the Autobot base.
He had been monitoring Prime for some time now, taking in every subtle change, every shift in his behavior cataloguing everything to pass to Lord Megatron.
A/N
(I hope this chapter is as good as I think it is life has been hectic and I haven't had the time to upload but I am writing a bunch of chapters so I should have a stockpile built up so when I do eventually stop and have to take a break I'll be able to still post chapters, moving on I've wanted to show how Optimus is coping now I know it's not in character but I love the Idw Optimus, Bayformers Optimus and Tfp Optimus and I wanted to combine them all kinda and I wanted to experiment with this chapter)