Author's Note: FF dot net decided to eat the last half of the story. Joy!

Spineless

All things considered, Ratchet held Optimus in high regard – as high regard as he could manage, anyway, considering that Ratchet didn’t really give a slag about anyone. He had enough friends lost at war to stop making friends altogether, and this little group of misfits was likely the closest he’d gotten to really caring about anyone at all since the death of Omega Supreme. They had their way of worming into his spark, festering there until he couldn’t help but feel some sort of grudging attachment to them all. Enough to certainly miss them if they were gone, and enough to lose precious resting time worrying his spark over them. Young, eager for glory kids, all of them – the dangerous type who would push themselves to the very limits before realizing they were truly fallible, and not always lucky.

So far, they’d been lucky as pit. Optimus especially, who would likely give his own spark for the lives of his friends if he had to – almost had on more than one occasion. It reminded Ratchet a bit too much of Omega Supreme, and it made his spark lurch when he thought about it too hard. Thought about what would happen without Optimus Prime there to pull them together. Even as… deeply naïve as he was about just about everything, Optimus was a leader at spark. He was meant to be there for them, to pull them together and to guide them. And out of all of them, Ratchet liked Optimus most. It was hard not to like him, his earnest goody-goody nature that made everyone around him want to be better just to live up to what came so naturally to him.

It was disturbing, though, how little goodness Ratchet had in comparison to Optimus. He was old, bitter – pessimistic to the core. Too old to change any of these things, too, just like Ultra Magnus was too old and too weary to be the moral compass that Optimus was. Ratchet wondered if, in some small way, Ultra Magnus dislike Optimus for that pristine nature – and liked that little slag Sentinel Prime for his horribly flawed nature.

Optimus was watching Ratchet earnestly – and Ratchet was trying not to look back at him. It was hard, because there wasn’t much to do in the base, nothing that he would be interested in at the very least. He could relax and try not to think about how important his friends had become to him, and how much he didn’t want that after he had endured losing Omega. How losing any one of them would hurt just like that did – that he would only become more withdrawn, more cold. More useless.

“Ratchet,” said Optimus hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

Ratchet gave Optimus a sharp glance, grunting dismissively. “Are you?” he shot back. “Aren’t there things you should be doing, Prime? Watching out for Decepticons, keeping an eye on the girl…”

Of course, it wasn’t as if Ratchet was being anymore useful than Optimus was – it wasn’t like he was expected to do anything in particular anyway, except lend a hand when the others got themselves into a tight spot. At the very least, his magnets always came in handy, and he was find doing little menial tasks if he was given a wide berth and some peace.

Ratchet sighed wearily. “Well what?” he asked Optimus. “Something on your mind, kid? It isn’t going to do you any good if you keep staring at me.”

Optimus – for once – didn’t seem embarrassed by the jab. “I was wondering,” said Optimus hesitantly. “Why don’t you stay on the ship? Why stay at the base?”

“Trying to get rid of me?” said Ratchet wryly. He knew perfectly well where this was going, and he wasn’t about to let Optimus have the upper hand. He wasn’t about to pour his little spark out over Omega Supreme. “Omega’s just fine where he is – he can’t feel anything and it’s a bit of a trip to get to the ship from here. Not great for the suspension, you know.”

Optimus nodded vaguely. “Do you think he can’t feel at all, though?” he asked, almost casually – he was so terrible at being subtle. “I mean, sometimes it just seems like–”

Of course it sometimes seemed like Omega was there, his presence. Sometimes the ship did unpredictable things. Sometimes it moved faster in a situation where you would imagine it would be startled, or it slowed down in a situation that calls for cautious. Sometimes the ship stalled without warning and sometimes the computers were alight with energy, fast and excitable. Yeah, something was left there – something sentient.

“Not so much as a ghost,” said Ratchet. “Won’t serve you to think of him like that – he died a hero, and that’s it. We don’t exactly need to pretend he’s some sort of ghostly sentinel for us too. The computer is old – glitchy. You’re probably just imagining things.”

Optimus shook his head. ““It’s just, I figured today–”

“Today?”

Ratchet glanced at Optimus sharply, straining to recall just what day it was.

It hit him hard, abruptly – today was the anniversary of the end of the war. It was a day of celebration back on Cybertron, a day Ratchet so often sought to forget. The day that Omega perished defending their homestead. The day that Ratchet had become… this.

Ratchet clenched his fists – Optimus was naïve. Optimus only knew that Ratchet had cared for Omega, and that he had been there with Omega had died. He had seen it with his own optics. But beyond that, well, Optimus knew nothing.

Optimus never knew that Ratchet had encouraged Omega to die. That, afraid of as he was of death, Ratchet had just about given Omega a verbal push to fight harder rather than retreat – while Ratchet himself had drawn back, knowing that Omega could shield him, shield all of them.

He should have been at Omega’s side – died at his side rather than being an utter coward. That, when his own life was in danger, everything he had with Omega – that friendship, that bond – was thrown to the wayside. And Ratchet knew that in that very situation, if Optimus were the shield he needed to save himself, he might just… let him go.

And he knew that, given the chance, Optimus would die for him. Just like Omega did.

“I think I need some air,” said Ratchet distractedly, quickly transforming and rolling out of the base. He could hear Optimus call out for him a few times, but Optimus knew better. And as much as Ratchet liked the kid, he really needed to be away from him.

Away from that goodness – that selflessness that reminded Ratchet every day that he wasn’t anything like that. That if he had to choose between himself and a friend, he would always choose himself. Maybe it was just his nature – maybe he couldn’t fight that. But he didn’t have to like himself for it.