Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Mesocyclone	By : CGH Category: S through Z > Transformers (Movie Only) > Transformers (Movie Only) Views: 2455 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and I'm not making any money off this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Mesocyclone
- 1
Author's note: Here's an introspective addition to the Danceverse. Pairing is OptimusxMikaela.
For those who aren't coming to this fic via Tumblr, the Tumblr URL mentioned in-story is real. Check it out if you want. Remove the parenthesis when you type it in.
this-prime-dances.)tumblr.)com
Warnings: Mention of sexual assault, swearing and NSFW content.
.o
.o
.o
Mesocyclone
.o
.o
"Do you see what I see?

A rainbow shining over us

in the middle of a hopeless storm.

Sometimes I'm blinded by my feelings,

and I can't see beyond my troubled mind..."
--Jon Secada, "I'm Free"
.o
Movement on the bed pulled Mikaela from a sound slumber. Optimus was rolling over onto his back. His luminous blue optics flickered at two different intervals. They were aimed at her eyes, eerily unseeing.
"Sam, run..."
"Optimus?"
Optimus' optics dimmed to blackness. Silence permeated the room like a shadow.
Mikaela bolted into a sitting position and lit the bedside lamp. The off-white illumination stabbed her eyes, leaving her vision briefly white. She squinted against the onslaught without giving the pain time to register. Beside her, Optimus' wide-eyed visage gaped at the ceiling. No light shone in his optics at all. He looked dead.
"Optimus?" She shook him, then bent to rest her ear on his chest. Cold metal greeted her cheekbone. Blood roared in her ears, making it impossible to tell whether she heard her own pounding pulse or air hissing through his intakes. She couldn't pick up his Spark. Sometimes, it cycled down to nearly inaudible during the deepest phase of his recharge.
Except, he wasn't in that phase.
"Oh, God, Optimus...what's wrong? Honey, wake up."
Mikaela jostled him again. His robotic form creaked and jiggled. She tested his reflexes by touching the surface of his left optic. His eyelids didn't close. Pinching the neural lines under his chest hosing garnered no reaction. She risked lifting the armor guarding his Spark chamber. There were no movements to protect his life force, and she couldn't see anything glowing between his chamber doors.
Hot dread tied the pit of Mikaela's stomach into knots. What if dying in a data track dream killed Optimus for real?
She pressed a fist to her mouth to stop a scream. Her free hand stroked Optimus' brow. Maybe he was in the defragmentation stage of his recharge cycle after all. Maybe she caught the end of a nightmare. Maybe she just saw him die.
"Don't do this," Mikaela croaked while wrapping her arms around his neck. The hot space filling her stomach grew towards her chest and throat. She rubbed his jaw, sniffling, "Please, honey...oh, God. Listen to my voice and wake up. Elita needs you...I need you."
Nothing.
Salty tears blurred Mikaela's vision. She grasped Optimus' icy hand and placed it against her cheek. "Optimus, damn it! You can't do this! Wake up!" Grabbing his shoulders, she jolted him hard enough that his mouth plates slammed together and fell limply open again, "You have to wake up now!" Her hands framed his face, gently soothing the imagined pain she might have caused, "Please..."
He never moved. Not a flicker or a twitch. Mikaela had just begun pondering what to tell Elita when he arched his back with a groaning cough. His mouth and optics snapped shut. He relaxed again, oblivious to the emotional chaos he unconsciously wrought.
Mikaela bolted into the bathroom and sobbed her eyes out. She concealed her outburst by running the faucet. Splashing cold water on her face erased all evidence of weeping.
Faintly, she heard Optimus' intakes rattling. Relief cooled the burning in her knotted stomach. She returned to the bedroom, drying her hands on a towel as she passed the rack beside the door. The mattress creaked when she seated herself.
"Optimus?"
Optimus' optics stopped flickering, sprang open and shifted back and forth. They finally focused on her, his glowing irises adjusting to the ambient light. He sat up immediately at the sight of her haunted expression.
"Mikaela? What happened?"
"You died," Mikaela breathed, "You said, 'Sam, run,' and then you..."
"Oh, no," he pulled her close, his touch reassuring. "My processor is unable to access the data recorded between the moment my Spark was extinguished and its reigniting. When it pops up during compression and consolidation, I get a memory error when I wake up. It's showing up right now."
"Then what did I just see? You looked dead."
"My processor reads the 'missing' data as a few minutes of oblivion. I...suppose that means my body responds by mimicking death." Optimus imitated a quiet sigh and rubbed the inner corners of his optics, "I'm so sorry you had to witness that. Are you all right?"
Mikaela sank into the safety of his arms. "No. That was awful."
"I'm sorry," he repeated again, sounding truly regretful, "I don't know if this will help, however-- my hologram will fade away if I am killed. It won't flicker or suddenly vanish, you will see it gradually disappear. I programmed it that way."
Mikaela's face flushed at her failure to account for the obvious. Pink spots with black centers danced through her vision. Exhaustion pressed a heavy weight on her skull. She hadn't experienced a Sunday night of interrupted sleep since early November. Her fear of not being there for Optimus overrode her need to rest. Worse, he was blithely unaware the nightmares were happening unless she told him. Her notes showed no specific pattern beyond an increase in occurrences.
"We can't keep having nights like this," Optimus rumbled. He scooted away to sit on the foot of the bed. The green digital numbers on the cable box across the room switched from four fifty-nine to five o'clock in the morning.
"Optimus, it's not your fault."
"I know. It's the stasis trauma." He hung his head and covered it with both hands as if assuming a duck-and-cover position, "Damn this thing...just," his fists clanged against his thighs when he let them fall into his lap, "damn it!"
Mikaela crawled towards his broad metal back and wrapped her arms around his neck. Warm, dry air escaped the round vent on the back of his head in a rhythm much like breathing. She listened to the soft whoosh-whooshing. Excessive processor heat was a byproduct of his nightmares.
"You only have four hours left to sleep," said Optimus.
"I'm fine pulling an all-nighter for you," Mikaela said back. Coming down from the earlier shock finally let her heart rate slow to a normal rhythm. She laid her forehead against the warmth of his blue, porcelain-like helm, "You need me."
The delicate 'Adam's apple' mechanism on his throat moved beneath her thumb.
"I need you to sleep." He turned his head to regard her through the corner of an optic, "Lack of adequate rest is more detrimental to your health than it is to mine. I should stay awake."
Mikaela closed her eyes, hating the idea that he would be miserable and alone while she slept. The assault resulting in his stasis trauma happened at four-something in the morning. His anxiety levels always rose after the sun went down. Some nights were worse than others. She'd let him know he could wake her up if it got really bad, but he rarely did.
"What're you going to do?" she asked.
"I'll update my Tumblr and stream Doctor Who for a few hours. I might recharge once you're at work and Elita is safely at school. She's out of for Christmas vacation next week, correct?"
"Yeah," Mikaela tried and failed to smile at Optimus mentioning his Tumblr blog.
Somehow, he had the internet convinced he was an online role play blog being run by a woman in her thirties. Role players populated Tumblr like bees populated a hive, so he blended right in. He routed his connection through several satellites to conceal his true location and he never referred to Mikaela or Elita by name. Instead, he called them the wifey and the kiddo. And his username, this-prime-dances, couldn't be more obvious if he tried. When it came to hiding in plain sight, Optimus was a master.
"Then it's settled," he nodded, resolute, "I'll sit in the garage until the sun is up."
The garage had no windows to reveal the blackness of night.
"You sure, honey?"
Optimus wiggled himself out of her embrace. "Yeah. Get some sleep."
But first, he turned and brushed his mouth plates across her lips. She kissed back tenderly.
The bedroom felt cold and empty after his hologram beamed away. Mikaela curled up on her left side in a huff. Once again, his symptoms drove a wedge between them. She grabbed her phone to check Optimus' blog. She wasn't surprised at finding a new update above the picture of a goofy Segway-vacuum cleaner combo.
A lot of nightmares…
Dear Wifey,
I deeply apologize that you have to go through this. Your presence is so greatly appreciated. You and the kiddo have done more for me than I can say, and you continually inspire me to stand fast on my road to recovery.
I love you both with all that I am.
Love,
Optimus
Optimus always blogged very honestly about his stasis trauma. None of the other Autobots visited Tumblr-- at least not to Mikaela's knowledge-- so his being open about it let him speak to others who were fighting mental illnesses like his.
She glanced at his newest entry again. His kind words softened some of her anguish. She set her phone aside and pulled the covers up over her shoulder. Maybe tomorrow would be better.
The next afternoon, Mikaela almost fell asleep at the wheel while driving home from work. Someone's blaring horn saved her life. It wasn't the first time and she feared it wouldn't be the last. She made the mistake of mentioning it off-handedly over dinner. Optimus steamed in silence for a solid five minutes before he calmly changed the subject to a discussion about Christmas.
Mikaela excused herself to wash the dishes. On the fridge beside her, Elita had placed an oversized drawing of a ruler with a scale between zero and ten. She called it the Symptoms Scale and Optimus used it to quickly indicate how symptomatic he was at a given time. Zero was nothing, and ten meant non-functional. The thumbs-up magnet underneath pointed to the number four.
Optimus didn't always move the magnet. Sometimes, he stated his current number verbally or in his blog.
"Mom?" Elita hedged, "Earth to mom."
"Hm?" Mikaela focused on her, "Sorry, sweetie, water's on. What?"
"Did you get those candy canes for my class party?"
"Yep. They're on your bed."
"Awesome!"
"Speaking of awesome," Optimus cut in, "I just found the last Christmas gift I need on Amazon. I'm ordering right now."
Elita lit up and bounced in her seat. "Really? Who's it for? Who's it for?"
"It's for-- uh oh! Santa Claus has intercepted my connection. I'm under orders to remain silent on that matter."
"Aw!"
Mikaela flung a paper towel at him for that. He caught it and winked at her.
That night, she was so tired that she fell asleep on the couch while watching TV.
.o
A few days went by. Nothing eventful happened aside from Mikaela and Optimus having a sword fight with whisks, which resulted in the irreparable destruction of both. One landed in the running garbage disposal unit, and the other was stomped flat by Optimus' left foot.
Elita slow-clapped as they picked up the mangled results of their immaturity.
"This is why we can't have nice things," she remarked.
"A glitch in the Matrix, I can assure you," Optimus said back.
Mikaela mock-glared a hole in the side of his head. He shot her a smoldering look in return. She smiled wickedly with a nod.
Elita scoffed, oblivious to the silent exchange. She flipped the switch to shut off the growling garbage disposal unit. "Dad, I want to play Mario Kart. Play me?"
"Sure. Can it wait thirty minutes?"
"Yeah," she rolled up her white hoodie's sleeves, "I'll finish the dishes, you children."
"Thank you."
Optimus grabbed Mikaela around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.
"AAH! You!" Mikaela laughed, slapping his back, "Where are we going?"
"Bed," Optimus grunted at her.
"Ooh," she cooed back, "Please, finish kidnapping me!"
"As you wish."
Mikaela glimpsed Elita's amused expression as Optimus easily carried her upstairs. The bedroom door closed with a thump and he gently set her down on the bed.
"Quickie?" she asked.
"Mmhmm," Optimus rumbled in her ear. "I desire you...now."
Grinning, Mikaela slipped her jeans off, leaving her just in her dark blue snowflake turtleneck. She laughed when Optimus slipped his hands underneath to tickle her breasts. The burning look in his optics transformed her giggles into heavy breathing.
They fell into each other, hungry from desire. Metal hands dented soft fleece fabric and shiny fingernails glided across smooth silver chrome. Both met an explosive, simultaneous climax and collapsed again. Their gazes met. They chuckled.
"You sounded like you were gonna sneeze that time," Mikaela snickered.
Optimus waggled his eye ridges. "Mm, maybe I should post the recording of myself and see what Tumblr thinks."
"What?"
"I have no problem posting--"
"Five bucks says you won't."
"Five dollars?"
"Five."
The most twisted smile crossed Optimus' face plates. "Check your phone. You owe me five dollars."
"You didn't."
"I certainly did."
Mikaela checked his Tumblr. He did.
"I hate you," she huffed.
"No, you don't." Optimus helped himself to a five from her wallet. He transferred it to his personal pile of cash, which was sitting by the TV.
"And what are you planning to do with that fiver?"
"It's intended for nefarious purposes."
"Like...?"
"If I told you, I might have to exterminate, exterminate, exterminate you."
"Augh, you're such a Dalek!" Mikaela wiped herself with a tissue and pulled on her white bikini-style panties. She reached for her discarded pants, which were lying in a heap on the floor.
Optimus blinked at her. "A Dalek, am I?" He squinted, "Hm...fornicate, fornicate, fornicate!"
"Oh, my God," Mikaela guffawed, losing her grip on her half-donned jeans. "D-Did you just--"
"Yes."
"You suck!" she cackled, red-faced.
"Do you want to see my sonic screwdriver?" Optimus purred wickedly in her ear.
That did Mikaela in. She dropped her pants again and doubled up in helpless laughter. Optimus bent to grab her jeans for her. The moment their eyes met, he lost it. They clung to each other until the snickers and snorts died down.
"Elita is waiting on me. I should head downstairs."
Mikaela liked hearing his brontide voice right there. She almost wished she didn't have to let him leave. "Are you feeling okay?"
He nuzzled his mouth plates against her cheek, "Yes...I'm all right today. I've been working on the suppression program quite a bit this week. It's almost complete. Ratchet's old data is extremely helpful and I know my own software, but I am no medic."
"How will you know when it's working?"
"I'm not sure yet. I already know it won't stop the flashbacks or nightmares. It's supposed to lessen the anxiety and depression...andmaybe quiet the intrusive thoughts, but I have no intention of implementing anything until after the new year. There is a chance this program could exacerbate my symptoms instead, which will mean it still needs work. Last year ended in a crisis because of my issues. I don't want to repeat it again this year."
Not the answer Mikaela hoped for, but Optimus never sugarcoated the truth.
She cupped the side of his face and nodded in understanding. "Whatever happens, Elita and I are gonna be there for you."
"I appreciate it." He swooped down to touch his metal lips to her fleshy ones, "I better get going. Elita is eager to kick my rear on the race track."
Snorting, Mikaela playfully flicked the back of his head and let him go. "I'll join you two after I take out the trash."
"You're on."
The next morning, Mikaela received a text at work. A photo of two new whisks crisscrossed on the kitchen counter with a note underneath.
These are the nefarious purposes.
And she spent the rest of her workday chortling like a fool.
On Saturday, Mikaela awoke to Optimus yelling outside. That particular tone of voice had worn itself familiar in her psyche-- he was shouting at his mental illness. Not once, in all the time she had known him, did he speak that way to anyone in the household.
Yet again, his symptoms were showing. The symptoms clouded her view of him like baseball sized hail blowing around a mesocyclone. How could she hope to core punch through it and get close to the tornado when the wind and hail trashed everything in its path?
It wasn't the first time Mikaela found herself resenting the Cemetery Wind soldier for causing this. Another part of her was beginning to resent Optimus as well, and it wasn't his fault. The wall his illness planted between them kept pushing itself higher. She hated knowing the deep conversations they used to have weren't going to make him better.
Sometimes, when he's sick like this...I don't know him, Mikaela thought bitterly. She sniffed and pushed the bed covers off herself. At least he's still fighting it. I dunno if I could keep going if it were me.
Optimus bellowed again in Cybertronian.
"Yeah!" Elita's voice joined his, "Tell it, dad! Kick its butt!"
Mikaela staggered out of bed and pulled on her warmest robe and boots. She trudged onto the frosty upstairs deck. Frigid air bit her exposed skin. Clear, crystal blue skies and white sunlight shone between the bare tree branches above. Below, Elita clung to Optimus like a purple, bundled-up koala bear. Upon noticing Mikaela, she gave a quick thumbs down to indicate a bad day.
Elita touched foreheads with Optimus. They whispered to each other in undertones too soft to hear. Her white mitten-clad hands rubbed the back of his neck. She seemed like the lucky one-- she didn't remember much about him before his mental illness. Dealing with his symptoms was normal for her.
Optimus set Elita down after a moment. She grasped his large metal hand and led him back towards the cabin.
Mikaela entered the warmth of the indoors as well, her skin rough with goose bumps. She shed her robe to climb back into bed.
"Mom?" Elita whispered from the doorway.
"Mm?" Mikaela raised her head.
"Dad's having a lot of bad thoughts today. I'm gonna tell Jennifer I can't come to the sleepover."
"Oh, sweetie, are you sure?"
Elita smiled a little, "It's probably better I don't go. She had a sore throat and I don't want another cold."
A lame excuse to not go, yet Mikaela knew Elita would worry more while away from home. Besides, Elita was excellent at sassing Optimus' intrusive thoughts until the episode passed.
Still, Mikaela grumbled at how his symptoms had once again interrupted her life. She'd hoped to do some last minute Christmas shopping, go grocery shopping, mop the floors and finish the day with a relaxing bubble bath. So much for that.
Clouds obscured the sky outside. The dull grayness seeped through Mikaela's soul like bitter frost. Optimus didn't make himself symptomatic on purpose to ruin her plans, but sometimes it seemed as though the illness waited for the worst times to knock him out of commission. She hated that he could go weeks without a hitch-- weeks of being normal-- only to be blindsided by a previously unknown trigger, anxiety attacks or crippling depression.
Frustration tightened the muscles under Mikaela's scalp. She swallowed her silent resentment, dressed herself in yesterday's red flannel shirt and jeans and joined Elita and Optimus downstairs. They spent Saturday watching chick flicks and playing Monopoly.
.o
Snow fell heavily on Sunday night. Mikaela listened to the wind whoosh against the window as she climbed into her baggy green pajamas. She decided to go to bed early, hoping to make up for the hours she would be awake with Optimus later.
"Retiring?" Optimus' silhouette glimmered in the doorway.
"Yeah."
"I was considering the same. Perhaps, if I find out I'm going to have a bad night early, I'll be able to get up again before you lose too much sleep."
"Good idea," Mikaela said without looking at him. She was hoping to catch a few hours first
Optimus approached 'his' side of the bed and turned down the blankets. Mikaela felt his metal form settling behind her. He slipped one arm around her waist and scooted closer until they achieved a perfect spoon position. Servomechanisms whirred and his mouth plates were right above her ear.
"Bad days are just speed bumps on the road to recovery," he said softly, "I'm experiencing a lot of bumpy days...and I know they are difficult for you."
"Yeah," Mikaela answered tersely.
"Mm. Have I done something to upset you?"
Damn, he's on to me...
"It's not you," Mikaela exhaled heavily, "I don't know how to say what I want to say without sounding like a shitty person."
He smiled, gently squeezing her shoulder. "Say it anyhow...you can tell me anything."
Steeling herself, Mikaela forced the ugly truth out, "This is hard. It's really fucking hard, Optimus. Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck outside, watching you fight this through a window and all I can do is yell inside that I'm here for you. The worst days-- they take you away from me. I miss the old you. The you that wasn't sick. I miss you."
She waited for him to get offended. To pull away. To act wounded. That would be the proper human response.
"I'm still here, Mikaela." The sheets rustled as he rubbed his foot against her calf. His eyelids clicked when he blinked. "I'm still here, and I never stopped loving you. Nothing can take that emotion away. I love you, regardless of how broken I become. Will you still love me, too?"
I made that vow-- in sickness and in health...
Swallowing, Mikaela reached for his hand. Their fingers interlocked, metal and skin, to seal her silent answer between their palms.
Optimus went on, "Speed bumps are jarring and frightening, but they aren't obstacles as long as one keeps moving forward despite them. That is what I strive to do-- keep moving forward-- and you always know how to help me continue doing that when I lose sight of that goal."
"It's hard to watch," Mikaela sniffled. Feeling sorry for herself was totally selfish, yet she couldn't help it anymore.
"I know," he nuzzled his lips against her hair, "I experienced the same sense of loss when I saw Megatron beginning to change. What you're feeling now is completely valid, and I don't begrudge you for it. It is all right to grieve, Mikaela. Grief is a sign that you care."
At his words, Mikaela clutched his hand for dear life and sobbed into her pillow. Optimus quietly rubbed her wrist with his thumb while she cried herself to sleep.
Less than two hours passed before movement on the bed drove her back towards consciousness. She listened to Optimus writhing and groaning beside her. Occasionally, the errors activated during data tracks related to sex with either her or Megatron. This wasn't one of those-- the timbre of his moans was all wrong. He jerked suddenly, like he'd been struck. Pain twisted his features. His optics, flickering at two different frequencies, gazed off into space.
"Who sent you here?" he rasped.
Mikaela turned over to slip her arms around his neck. "Shhh, honey, you're dreaming."
Unaware of her, he kept twitching until his optics ceased flickering.
Five minutes later, he sat bolt upright and shouted, "Cade!"
That one ended immediately, and he resettled on the bed.
Optimus' nightmare pattern repeated itself six more times. He awoke on his own when Mikaela climbed off the bed to use the bathroom. When she finished, she found him straightening the sheets he'd rumpled.
"I'm disturbing your sleep," said Optimus. No preamble.
"You can't help it." Mikaela wiped a hand through her tangled hair.
"No, but I can help the effects my nightmares are having on you. I'm going down to the basement to recharge."
He beamed his hologram away before she got a word in edgewise. Just like that! Incensed, she grabbed her robe and clambered downstairs, hardly aware of the cold wooden floor on her bare feet. She threw her weight against the fussy basement door to shove it open. The heating vents didn't work as well there, so the chilly low-level room sent icy knives into her exposed skin. Her hot temper blunted some of its impact.
Optimus looked up at her. Like an oversized mechanical cat, he was lying prone on the floor beside the tarp covering the mechanical bull. Moonlight shone through the tiny hopper window in the corner. Its glow gleaming off his silver facial plating. The effect of the moon and his luminiferous optics might have been beautiful in different circumstances.
"Why are you being like this?" Mikaela spread her hands, "Why?"
"Mikaela," he stated calmly, "I'm keeping you awake. Mondays are always your worst day because I interrupt your sleep."
Shadows surrounded Mikaela when she said, "I don't care if I have to stay up all night for you."
"I do," Optimus stated firmly. He got to his feet and moved from one pool of moonlight to another. His blue optics provided enough ambient light to not require aid from the bare overhead bulb.
Mikaela observed his tense expression and met it with her own. "So you expect me to let you go through hell alone in the cold?"
"Yes," he answered, "The cold doesn't bother me, and you won't hear me. You'll be able to sleep uninterrupted."
"No..." Mikaela shook her head. She reached through her hair and grasped the back of her scalp to fight a blooming tension headache. "I can't do that. You're suffering...I can't let you suffer like that. I can't just--"
Optimus lifted a hand and lowered it again, quieting her. "I do not remember my nightmares when I awaken. They have no detrimental effect on me, but they are affecting you. Mikaela, I'm doing this because I love you, and I worry about you. I don't need a soft mattress or blankets the way you do. I can recharge on any flat surface. I'll be fine down here."
The knot in Mikaela's throat plunged into her stomach. She tugged her robe more tightly shut and turned away, unable to bear looking at him.
"Stop being so damn self-sacrificial! You spent most of your life going through hell alone. I couldn't be there for you then, but I can now. I'm on your side, Optimus! Damn it, we're supposed to fight this together! And you're shutting me out!"
Tension flooded the room. It hung like tiny proto-universes inside every wayward dust moat floating past the windows.
"I'm not suffering at all," Optimus said. A chilled edge entered his voice. He was getting angry. "I have told you many times-- nightmares do not exist to me once I awaken. My observations tell me you are the one who is disturbed by them, not me. You have been there for me throughout my struggle. I am forever grateful to you for that, but this, this, is a situation where you can't aid me. I don't hear your words of comfort or feel your touch during a nightmare. I am still getting the rest I require, but you aren't. My condition is needlessly affecting you."
"'Needlessly affecting me?'" Mikaela whirled to look him in the optics. A deep frown creased her brow. She mirrored his tightened mouth and snapped, "It's my choice! I stay awake for you because I want to! What kind of wife lets her husband feel miserable by himself?"
Optimus' shoulders squared themselves. He shook his head, audibly grinding his mouth plates together. For a moment he looked upward while pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Despite the anguish on his face, his voice remained calm, "I don't want this to sound accusing, but you aren't seeing this from my perspective at all. That is the root of this argument and that is why it is going--"
"You're right. I'm not getting it, so tell me. Give me a good reason to let you have nightmares alone in a cold basement when you know you deserve better." Mikaela was irrational and she knew it, but she couldn't let the subject go.
He dropped his arm to his side and stepped forward. The moon's ghostly light danced along his outline. His hand extended towards her, silver and scintillating defiantly against the surrounding darkness. She took it without meeting his gaze and felt him rest her palm atop the armor guarding his Spark chamber.
"I remember how you admitted to nearly falling asleep on the road," Optimus began, all anger gone from his tone, "If you were involved in a vehicular accident because you fell asleep at the wheel, it would be my fault. If that wreck killed you or someone else, it would be my fault for disrupting your sleep the previous night."
He gently took Mikaela's left hand and placed it beside her right. Vibrations from his Spark could be barely felt through his thick armor plating. A tiny, constant tremor drowned by the stronger frequencies of his voice.
"I am not shutting you out, Mikaela, I am making a decision for your benefit. You do a fantastic job of managing my other symptoms. But my nightmares..." He tenderly squeezed her hands, "...this is a situation with no quick fix, and it's hurting you. My decision is for your safety and health. It's only one night a week. I'll be all yours for the other six."
Mikaela's heart rate gradually slowed. She honestly hadn't considered it that way at all. Sometimes, she had a hard time wrapping her mind around the notion that Optimus' nightmares vanished as soon as the data track closed. His reactions to them were so human-- leaving him to experience those memories without comfort felt cruel.
She edged into the moonlight with him and laid her head in the space underneath his chin. He embraced her and rubbed her back. They began swaying together, dancing quietly to their new understanding.
"This feels like abandonment," she said.
"You aren't abandoning me, you're helping me by helping yourself," murmured Optimus. "It's only on Sunday nights. I'll be fine."
"Only Sundays," Mikaela repeated.
"Mmhmm. And we don't need to keep track of my nightmares anymore. There's no pattern, why waste the paper?"
"Fine by me, but you're still not sleeping on the floor. I don't care what you're made of, you're going to be comfortable at night. If I can't be here, at least let me make sure you're warm."
Optimus' mouth plates lifted slightly in a smile. "All right."
Compromises, he was amazing at them.
Nodding, Mikaela slipped free of his embrace to tip-toe out the basement door. She paused to yawn, having momentarily forgotten how tired she was. After digging in the closet next to the washing machine, she returned with a gray heavy-duty rectangular sleeping bag and a spare pillow without a case. She laid everything on the floor where Optimus had been lying when she first entered. The zipper whispered softly as she opened the sleeping bag all the way, exposing its soft black interior.
"Mind if I sit with you until you're in recharge?" Mikaela knew she was stalling and didn't care. Anything, if it meant delaying the moment she had to exit the basement without him.
"I would like that," said Optimus.
He ran his hand over sleeping bag, fluffed the pillow a little and resettled on his stomach. One forearm went under the pillow and he laid his head down upon it. Normally, he pushed pillows aside and placed his head right on his forearm, but Mikaela wasn't having that here. His feet still ended up on the floor despite her best efforts, but he didn't appear to mind. She pulled the loose edge of the sleeping bag over him, covering everything between his shoulders and ankles. Their gazes met. He smiled through the dimness.
"Thank you for understanding."
"Mmhmm," Mikaela covered another yawn. She pulled her robe tightly shut and sat on the uncomfortably cold floor near his head, grunting, "Sorry about earlier. I was a jerk."
He chuckled, "No apology needed. You weren't a jerk. You were being maternal."
"You got all paternal on me."
"You're right. I did. Are we even?"
"Definitely."
The sleeping bag rustled. Mikaela felt Optimus take her hand.
"I love you," she said to him. "I love you so much."
His grip tightened briefly, and his optics started dimming and closing.
"I love you, too," he whispered.
She bent to kiss his cheek. He didn't respond; he was out.
Five minutes later, his optics flickered. He jerked sideways and let out an awful, pained cry.
Mikaela got up, stepped back and looked over her shoulder at him writhing on the floor in terrible pain. His hands kept gripping at something imaginary near his right chest plate.
"I-- gave you an order," he grunted. Talking to whoever was in his dream, yet it gave her the resolve to step out and close the basement door. Through it, she heard him roar, "Cade! Get out of here! This is my fight!"
Mikaela's throat ached with the desire to stay, but she made a promise. Tears streaked her cheeks. An angry swipe of her hands removed them. She forced herself to ascend into the cabin and his painful shouting faded with distance.
Leaving Optimus there to face his nightmares alone was the hardest thing she ever did in her life so far. That Sunday night, she slept fitfully for a full eight hours. Waking up Monday morning feeling rested almost seemed foreign.
Mikaela yawned, inhaling the smell of pancakes and sausage. She showered, got dressed and padded downstairs. Optimus stood by the stove, chattering, smiling and happy like the previous night never happened. He was okay.
"Elita, you're supposed to be at school," Mikaela teased.
"Nuh-uh, I'm on break," Elita said with her mouth full.
"Manners, Elita," Optimus chided gently, and Elita immediately started chewing with her mouth shut. To Mikaela, he asked, "Sleep well?"
"Mmhmm. You?"
Relief passed his expression. He said, "Just fine."
"Awesome." Mikaela buttered the pancakes he dished up and poured syrup over them, making sure it got on the sausage, too. She reached over to pinch an inch of Elita's bangs between her index and middle fingers. "You're due for a trim, kiddo."
Elita curled her lips. Her brown hair fell shaggily to her collarbones in the back while her bangs hung just below her eyes. That had to be annoying. She brushed Mikaela's hand off and wiped her bangs aside, exposing part of the port-wine birthmark on her brow. "Nah, I'm growing it out. Sick of being mistaken for a boy when I wear pants."
Oh. Mikaela suppressed a rude snicker because she completely understood. Elita asked to have her hair chopped to her ears a week before school ended for the summer, and it had taken her months to grow it back out. She didn't realize that haircut and her androgynous facial features made identifying her gender difficult for strangers. Being mistaken as a boy offended her a lot even though she was quite the tomboy.
I can't believe you're almost ten, Mikaela mused to herself. In her eyes, Elita always remained the tiny newborn she gave birth to in the Jacuzzi tub upstairs.
Optimus joined them at the table. He grunted and rubbed his right arm. His fingers twitched.
"Hologram problems?" asked Elita.
"Nope. Body."
His right arm and hand were never the same after Chicago. Reattached limbs rarely worked quite the same because the paths of light through the neural lines was altered. Scanning a new vehicle mode only rearranged his internal components-- it didn't replace them. Replacing parts had to be done surgically.
Mikaela finished her breakfast and got up to wash her plate and silverware. Optimus stood at the same time she did. He placed his hands on his hips while blocking her path.
"What's the password?" he asked, raising a challenging brow ridge.
"Move your butt," Mikaela countered playfully.
"No," Optimus set her plate on the kitchen counter, "it's this." He dipped her and nuzzled his mouth against hers in a deep Cybertronian-style kiss.
"Ooh," she clung to his shoulders, "I like that password."
He chuckled and winked before straightening. No trace of the cold basement remained anywhere on his armor. To her, he felt as warm as he always did.
"Elita and I are waiting for you to leave."
"Dad! You said you weren't gonna tell!" Elita fake-pouted.
"And what are you two going to be doing without me?"
"Uh...Nerf war," said Optimus.
"In the snow," Elita added.
"You don't want me to join?" Mikaela feigned offense. "Well, fine! I know when I'm not wanted around here." For effect, she pouted her bottom lip out and held that expression while washing her plate and silverware. "Boohoo! I have to work! Work is so boring!"
She'd used Elita's exact rant against school. Elita spray-laughed orange juice all over Optimus. Optimus blinked and cracked up, too.
Mikaela finished getting ready to the sound of her family's mirth.
That afternoon, as she pulled into the garage after taking Elita Christmas shopping, she said, "Seems like your daddy's having a lot of rough days."
"I think it's Christmas coming up," Elita replied without missing a beat. She examined the present she chose for Optimus-- a skateboard repair kit she'd been saving her allowance for since mid-November. "This's the time of year he told you he was sick. Maybe that's it?"
Mikaela's own thoughts found voice through her daughter. She nodded in complete agreement while stuffing her keys into her pocket.
Christmas decorations, jingling Salvation Army bells and heavier traffic turned the peaceful atmosphere into noisy chaos. Holidays induced a lot of stress, and stress made Optimus' stasis trauma symptoms more obvious.
Mikaela realized she'd been getting impatient and frustrated with him on days when he seemed symptomatic for no apparent reason. There was a reason. The time of year never even occurred to her.
I need to slow down, or I'm liable to smash my face on the next speed bump, she thought while hoping her choice of gift wouldn't upset him. The idea came to her upon recalling an exchange they had in October.
"Are my fingers triggering you?" Mikaela asked after another unsuccessful venture with her hand and his Spark chamber.
"No," Optimus hung his head in shame, "It's your skin. I mean no offense, but..."
"Shhh, none taken. It's okay. I know you're trying."
"I miss your touch, Mikaela." He looked at her, his brow ridges and optics tilted upward at the inner corners, "I want to enjoy it again."
"...want to try it again."
"Hm?" Mikaela shook off her thoughts, "Sorry, El, I spaced out. What?"
Elita hip-checked the Silverado's heavy passenger door to swing it closed. "I said I want to try the spicy meatloaf again."
Mikaela beamed and shut the driver's side door. "I put too many peppers in it last time. Ah-ah! Give me Optimus' present. I'll hide it until you're ready to wrap it."
"Oh, right. Don't look in the bag. Yours is in it too. Here, I gotta go!" Elita placed her plastic bag on the Silverado's snowy hood and slid it to Mikaela. She danced a jig into the cabin without waiting for a response. Faintly, she called out, "Dad, if you don't move, I swear I'll pee on your foot!"
"Ew!" Optimus replied. The bathroom door banged.
Snickering, Mikaela scooped up the shopping bag and set it on the table full of wrapping paper. She dutifully avoided looking at its contents as she concealed it with tissue paper to keep Optimus from accidentally spoiling the surprise. Assured she'd adequately camouflaged the gift, she shrugged off her heavy winter jacket and made her way into the warm cabin's interior.
.o
Christmas morning arrived without a hitch. Elita and Mikaela tore into their gifts with unbridled avarice. Optimus, as always, liked to watch everyone else and needed playful reminders to attend his own.
Mikaela ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the short red nightgown from Optimus. Just holding it let her know it was of high quality and not going to fray or fall apart in the washing machine.
"Now you have something sexy for winter," he said, and playfully nudged her with his shoulder.
"It's gorgeous!" Mikaela kissed his cheek and leaned on him, "Thanks, honey."
"Here's mine!" Elita freed the small box she'd tucked under the Christmas tree's bottom branch. She squinted and chewed her thumbnail in attempt to hide her excitement.
"Mm, it rattles. El, is it a bomb?"
"Yup."
Optimus snickered, "It's disarmed."
Mikaela elbowed his side and carefully tore the white paper off the box. Inside, she found mirrored silver aviator sunglasses. The exact pair she remarked about wanting every time she saw them in the mall.
"Wow, thanks!" She tried them on and raised both eyebrows. "How do I look?"
"Great choice, Elita! Amazing," said Optimus.
"Totally Top Gun, mom," Elita beamed, "Like 'em?"
"You bet! These are awesome!" Mikaela giggled and placed them carefully in the coral pink glasses case 'Santa Claus' gave her.
Optimus laughed and high fived Elita when he opened his new skateboard repair kit. Then he tore the green paper off his present from Mikaela. A curious brow ridge rose.
"One glove?" He peeked at the label, sounding it out, "Fu-ku-o-ku...must be Japanese."
"I'll show you how it works after the Doctor Who Christmas special," Mikaela purred in his audio.
Optimus picked up on the naughty nature of the gift. Leaning close to her, he whispered back, "I'm tingling in anticipation."
Elita almost tripped over her new sled to reach the tree. Her last present was carefully wrapped in glossy blue paper. Inside, she discovered the expensive snow boots she'd been pining for since November. They were white with purple soles and bright pink laces. Mikaela took Optimus' hand, smiling.
"You said someone bought them!" Elita exclaimed in shock.
"A correct assessment. Your mother and I bought them," Optimus replied playfully, "so, technically-- oof!" his voice cut off as the excited child practically dove across the room to hug him. "Merry Christmas, sweet-Spark."
Then Mikaela found herself with a lap full of squirming nine-year-old. The warm hug made the expense of those boots so worth it. She kissed her daughter's cheek and ruffled her hair, "Love you, kiddo."
"Love you, too. Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad."
Elita wiggled away to clean up the paper and sort her Christmas haul, which included professional-grade colored pencils and a drawing pad.
Optimus sat back and spread both arms across the backing of the couch. "Well, Christmas is over. Good night." He pulled his Santa hat down over his optics and played a recording of human snoring.
Just for that, Mikaela and Elita meticulously stuck every gift bow they salvaged to his face and shoulders. Photos of the event were taken. There was a lot of laughing.
The morning and afternoon proceeded without any of Optimus' symptoms causing a problem. A rare good day that didn't include anxiety or fits of listless depression. He took great joy in watching Elita try her new sled outside. And later, he cooked up a fantastic honey-baked ham with cheesy scalloped potatoes, mixed vegetables and fluffy rolls. Sparkling cider provided a sweet, refreshing drink. Elita dutifully washed the dishes and put away leftovers when the meal concluded.
At nine o'clock, everyone gathered on the living room couch to watch the exciting Doctor Who Christmas special.
Exactly fifteen minutes after the special's mysterious conclusion, Mikaela stood in the master bedroom and gazed at her reflection in the full length closet mirror. Her new nightgown was a mid-thigh length V neck made of red velvet. The clingy bodice and pretty bell sleeves made her feel like a naughty medieval princess. Optimus had little fashion sense-- he scanned outfits off mannequins for his human hologram-- but he certainly knew how to pick out a sexy nightie!
She decided to fancy it up by taking off her panties and pulling on a garter belt with fishnet thigh high stockings. Glossy red stilettos and a light dusting of gold sparkle eye-shadow completed the look.
Finally, Mikaela wiggled her hand into the black Fukuoku glove and activated it. Vibrations from the tiny bullets in the fingertips tingled against her skin. Oh, this would definitely do if it worked. She shut it off again to save the battery and quickly applied a touch of mascara.
Creaking floorboards signaled Optimus approaching the master bedroom. Mikaela closed the bathroom door to a crack, not wanting to spoil her reveal.
"Elita is in bed," he said upon shutting the bedroom door. "I'm all yours now. Mikaela?"
"You're damn right you're all mine," Mikaela cooed through the door. "Turn off the light and go sit on the bed."
"As you wish," Optimus replied, voice dropping like thunder, and did just that.
Dancing light from the fireplace provided the only illumination in the room. Mikaela inhaled deeply before stepping out. Optimus sat forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his mouth as if in prayer. He blinked when he saw her.
"Wow..." Comically, the mechanisms in his throat bobbed as if he just gulped. "You look...wow!"
Something made Mikaela look at Optimus again. He noticed her second glance and twisted slightly, letting the firelight shine on his eyelids. They were painted completely over with mirror-reflective silver.
"I fancied myself up for you," he winked at her. "It's been millennia since I've 'dressed up' as you like to call it."
Cybertronian 'beauty' was all about drawing attention to the optics. Engravings, extra LED's or simple decorative paint. On Optimus, the effect was understated, yet beautiful. His eyelids created little starbursts of blue every time he blinked.
"I love it." Mikaela grinned, "What did you use?"
He smiled, sheepishly rubbing his thighs, "Uh...I borrowed your silver nail polish. I hope you don't mind."
"Not a bit. Hell, keep the bottle if it makes you look like that."
Optimus relaxed visibly, chuckling. Mikaela gave her hair a sensual flip and shifted her weight to her left leg. A playful smile curved her lips. She held up her gloved right hand.
"You said skin is the problem around your Spark chamber...so I'm taking my skin out of the equation."
A flick of her fingers turned the glove on, and she teased her own nipples through her nightgown until they stood erect beneath the fabric. Arousal warmed her resolve. Even if this ended in disaster, she would go to sleep that night knowing she tried for Optimus' sake. She stopped just short of sliding her hand between her legs and strutted up to him, her shiny spiked heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her eyes never left his. When she crossed the space separating them, she extended her gloved hand and caressed his cheek.
"Whoa!" Optimus jolted in surprise. He jerked back, studied the glove and placed it on his face once again. Mikaela brushed her thumb across his bottom lip plate, letting him get used to the vibrations.
"How's that feel?"
"It tingles...it's...mmh--" he paused at her drawing a line from his cheek to his stomach, "--nice."
"Awesome."
Mikaela straddled his lap and rubbed her gloved hand along his throat as she trailed light kisses across his jaw.
Optimus moaned and pulled her flush against him. "You're an amazing woman, Mik-- ahh! Yes, yes, please..." his voice dissolved to static when she teased his shoulder pipes. It amazed her that such a simple device was turning him into putty in her arms.
"You deserve it," Mikaela murmured back. She nuzzled her lips sideways across his and he mirrored the movement, passionately kissing her back. He tilted his head to the side, clumsily trying to do it the human way. She always loved it when he did that.
"I love you," he rumbled. His optics were shimmering blue eclipses expressing his bottomless desire for her. He grasped her shoulders and gazed squarely into her eyes, "Mikaela."
Hearing him say he loved her in Cybertronian sent her pulse racing.
"I love you, too," Mikaela said back, letting her forehead touch his. Her eyes softened with her smile, "Optimus."
A gentle click sounded and the light of Optimus' Spark joined the orange-gold flicker from the fireplace. She swore the silver paint on his eyelids sucked that glow towards his optics like a vacuum.
"Please, touch me," he spoke gently in her ear, "Make me yours again."
Mikaela found herself bathed in the combined scintillations of fire and Optimus' bared soul. Her gold eye shadow glimmered and her sapphire blue eyes reflected the love she carried only for him. She held his gaze as she brought her buzzing, gloved hand upward to lay it just below his Spark chamber. Stimulating it indirectly first, testing his reaction.
"Yes," he said, his voice perfectly imitating breathlessness, "please!"
Her hand shifted up. She cupped his exposed Spark chamber, encasing it in her fingers. The glove's vibrations buzzed almost in time with his Spark's rapid pulse.
A sobbing noise escaped Optimus' vocal mechanism. He pushed himself harder against her hand.
"Can you-- is it possible to increase its intensity?"
"Mmhmm." Mikaela adjusted the switch without taking her hand off him. The vibrations intensified twofold. "That's as high as it goes. Are you doing okay?"
"Unh...yeah...fine...by the Allspark!" Optimus' whole face pinched. A shudder raced down his frame. He was already at the edge. "My Spark...Mikaela!"
Mikaela grabbed her phone off the bed and snapped two quick photos of the big moment. As she leaned forward to kiss him, she dipped her thumb into the thin membrane of energy protruding through his open Spark chamber.
Optimus slapped both hands down on the mattress, digging his fingertips into the blue comforter. His head fell back, brow ridges tilting upward and optics darkening. The delicate servomechanisms in his throat tightened. Warm air whooshed through his intake vents. He met Mikaela's eyes with a look of endless devotion and his irregular grunts morphed into deep, rhythmic moans.
Mikaela cradled Optimus' thrown-back head on her free arm. Tension worked its way down his whole body and she felt him pressing himself harder against her hand. At the height of it, he laughed. He laughed at his stasis trauma, he laughed at the harm done to him, and he laughed victoriously at the small step he'd taken towards healing. She was elated for him. Her touch upon his soul had brought him bliss again.
The person Optimus was before he became ill glimmered through his optics. Not gone, not annihilated....
"Ohh, wow," static laced his voice, "wait, don't move it! Leave it there-- I'm not done! I'm-- ohh!"
As the glove sent him soaring again, she prayed for it to help reassemble all his broken pieces.
Optimus turned the vibrations off after his fourth overload in a row. His coolant pumps whirred audibly, defying the silence. The hot oil scent he gave off floated around the room.
"You said tonight is all about what I want, correct?"
"Yup," Mikaela answered, playing with his left ear finial.
A dark, longing look overtook his optics. They held an almost primal hunger that followed her every movement.
"I want to love you," his voice dropped to its deepest register, "May I?"
The sound of his request sent thunder reverberating through her bones.
"Yes," she breathed.
Optimus pulled Mikaela to his chest and guided the black glove off her hand. She kicked her shoes aside and eased her new nightgown over her head, not caring that it tangled her hair. He helped her unclasp the garter belt. She removed it with her fishnet stockings. Both got tossed onto the floor. One by one the layers she wore peeled away until she lay bare.
My knight in shining armor, Mikaela thought when the glare of Optimus' Spark shifted enough to let her see him looming above her. He smiled down at her like she was the only woman in the universe. His gaze contained the energy preceding a lightning strike, its intensity briefly held back to double-check her desire to be struck. She peered up at him with the same ferocity. Yes, yes, she needed that electricity coursing through her.
Whirring servomechanisms signaled Optimus' descent. Hot metal lips contacted her bellybutton first. They drew a line to her left breast and promptly positioned themselves around her erect nipple. Their heat alone sent her back arching in delight. Having him bite down and pull while roughly kneading both her breasts was a bonus. Not one to leave a job unfinished, he teased her right nipple the same way. She giggled as his smooth steel mouth plates journeyed past her throat and stopped just shy of kissing her lips.
"You are my home," Optimus said sincerely. The truth shone in his softly glowing optics.
Mikaela's eyes glistened. Her heart jack hammered behind her sternum. She replied, "You're everything to me."
He smiled gently, tilting his head.
"I love you, Mikaela."
"I love you, too, Optimus."
Their lips met at last, driven by their ceaseless craving for each other. Mikaela felt Optimus' hand shimmy lower, his fingertips playfully swirling her pubic curls before continuing onward. He wet his fingers with her excitement and began vigorously rubbing where she throbbed the most. The friction of his fingertips sent her jaw clenching.
"Ahh, fuck, yes!" Mikaela bent her knees and held onto his shoulder so she wouldn't fly apart.
Optimus winked teasingly at her. He slowed his strokes to a maddening pace and gradually sped up again. Just one of his many amazing tricks-- and it always worked. Mikaela's response swelled until it folded in on itself. One hand rushed to grab the edge of the bed, the other tightened its hold on his shoulder. The fluttery heat pooling around the point of contact spread into her stomach and intensified. She gritted her teeth, anticipating. Her face flushed bright red. It was right there.
"Go-- inside me," Mikaela panted.
Optimus plunged two fingers inside her and kept rubbing with the heel of his palm. The added pressure was all Mikaela needed to send the fluttery feeling throughout her body. Redness spread from her face to her neck and chest. Her head practically sank into her shoulders and her voice released an unladylike mewl. Spasms and sensation rocked her muscles. Not caring how she looked or sounded, she cried out until the twitching died down.
Spent, but not ready to call it a night, she smiled saucily at the juices glistening on Optimus' fingers. He held them up with a mischievous smirk.
"It's a good thing these aren't your undergarments."
"You really like wrecking my panties, don't you?"
"Always," he growled in his deepest register.
Mikaela snickered and stuck his fingers in her mouth, tasting her own saltiness alongside his metallic tang. His temperature shot abruptly upward-- she had turned him on with that move.
A welcoming gesture had Optimus positioning himself above her. She hooked her legs over his hips and he lowered his upper body until his naked Spark laid atop her rapid heartbeat. Her arms eagerly encircled his neck to keep him close. Hot air puffed through his vents, almost matching the rhythm of her exhales. A low groan escaped his vocal apparatus when they exchanged both human and Cybertronian kisses. His first engine rev raced up her spine. Not even the fireplace's heat compared to the flames re-spawning between them. Metal and flesh slowly entwined, turning two silhouettes into one. Passion carried them up, down, around and through a universe of oneness. Their voices were unity crashing across the flickering firelight.
Cold wind howled outside. Its frosty fingers died long before it reached the inferno inside. Snowflakes bore silent witness to two quivering figures collapsing together on the king sized bed.
Mikaela panted as her orgasm tapered into a tingling afterglow. Optimus rolled over to let her lay across his chest. His familiar, warm fingertips lovingly massaged her back
"I'm yours again," he murmured.
"You always were."
"I know, but now, I feel it within myself. Thank you...thank you for this."
"You're welcome," she caressed his cheek,, "I'm glad you liked the glove."
"Mmh, it's fantastic."
Mikaela lifted her head to study Optimus' face. He blinked up at her, the silver polish on his eyelids gleaming beautifully in the dimness. She tapped playfully on his nose. "Do you wash that off after, or wear it until it fades?"
"It depends on the bot, but this will come off as soon as I flicker my hologram. However, I did look in the mirror and scan these effects. I can utilize it with my hologram any time I want." He winked cheekily, "Pretty cool, huh?"
She giggled, curling up in the crook of his arm again. "Wish I could do that. Taking makeup off is a pain."
"Use a sander. They're very efficient."
For that, she smacked his arm. They chuckled and exchanged a brief peck on the lips.
Sleep found Mikaela as she lay contentedly in Optimus' armored arms...
.o
...but she awoke alone in a rumpled bed. Seeing streaks of gold eye shadow smeared on the pillow convinced her last night hadn't been a dream.
Optimus left a note on the nightstand.
Breakfast is on me. Love you! --OP
Mikaela staggered sleepily into the bathroom to use the toilet, wash her face and brush her hair. She pulled on last night's nightie with the added sexiness of black boxer shorts and baggy red flannel pants. To complete the look, she donned her white kitten slippers and a raggedy blue bathrobe that trapped her body heat.
It wasn't until she peeked over the banister and saw Optimus sitting on the couch that she remembered-- one year ago today, he was opening up to her about his assault and resulting mental illness while seated on that very spot.
She watched Optimus rest his elbows on his knees and press his fingertips together like a steeple. His audio covers twirled in a series of jerks. A troubled frown crossed his visage. He squinted at the contents of the mahogany coffee table. Three blue notebooks, a black mechanical pencil, a deck of red Bicycle playing cards, Elita's colorful Rubik's cube and the gray TV remote.
Optimus grabbed the Rubik's cube sitting atop the deck of cards. He studied it closely. His fingers flicked into motion and he solved all six sides in a split second. Mikaela's eyes couldn't follow the movements.
The Rubik's cube plunked on the table and the card deck was snatched next. Optimus shuffled them. Once, twice, three times. Then he began dealing a Solitaire game on the tabletop. Immediately, he gathered the cards, shuffled and laid them out. And again, he collected them for a reshuffle without actually playing. He dealt the proper number. Only, this time, he kept throwing the cards down. His expression twisted. Each consecutive card slapped tabletop harder than its predecessor until the whole deck lay in a jumbled heap.
Mikaela gasped when Optimus swept everything off the coffee table with a frustrated growl. The Rubik's cube and TV remote landed next to the mantle together, while the notebooks, pencil and several playing cards sailed past them. He hunched forward, staring at the mess he made. Then he cleaned it up and put everything back on the table exactly how it was before-- he even reset the Rubik's cube to let Elita continue the puzzle where she left off.
The mental checklist ran through Mikaela's mind. Did last night trigger him? Did something on TV or the internet trigger him?
Optimus straightened again. A shudder ran through his whole body as if he got violently cold. He clutched his head between both hands.
"Be quiet," he whispered, "Be quiet, be quiet, please, just be quiet!"
Mikaela fled down the staircase and rushed to embrace him. She grabbed the fleece snowflake blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over his shoulders.
"I wanted to cook breakfast for you," Optimus' voice cracked, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
"Don't worry about it." Mikaela rubbed his arms through the thick blanket. She kissed the top of his head and laid her cheek against it. "What's with the shakes? Is it malware?"
Optimus twisted to bury his face in her shoulder. Tremors rattled his armor plating. She heard his lip plates faintly clattering.
"N-No. My fight or flight systems keep activating. I have to force the program to shut down. Sometimes, it d-doesn't happen-- instantaneously. I know I have nothing to fear...but my body thinks otherwise." His voice caught again, but he persisted, "I really wanted to cook you a nice breakfast."
"Shh, honey, it's okay," Mikaela rubbed her fingernails in circles next to his left ear finial. "It's hard to cook when you're going over speed bumps anyway."
That brought a brief, yet genuine smile to his metal features. "My processor feels like scrambled eggs."
"What's happening?" she kissed his helm again, "Can you tell me?"
The smile faded like sunlight shrouded by clouds. "I can't think straight...nothing makes sense. I look around-- the real me, in space-- and everything is impossibly far away. It's dark, it's cold...I feel cut off, lost...alone."
He rocked back, rubbing at his helm as if mussing up hair, "Earth is depending on me. So many expectations, Mikaela-- ever since I learned of my lineage, expectations have hung over me. I have a lot to live up to. What if I can't this time? I failed Cybertron...I can't fail Earth. I can't fail you."
"You aren't failing me, Optimus," Mikaela cupped his face in her hands and looked into his optics, "You're scared to death and you're still going forward. I don't care what anybody says, I think that's brave as hell."
Then she clutched him close through another bout of trembling. He kept his face hidden against her shoulder. She stroked his helm while whispering soothing words gently into his audio. Sunlight lit the couch, drawing her eyes towards the nearby picture window where a brilliant new epiphany stared back through her reflection.
Optimus hadn't lost his old self at all. But the mesocyclone of illness kept blurring his outline, turning him into someone Mikaela didn't recognize. She closed her eyes, breathed in and relaxed her muscles. Optimus shuddered twice in rapid succession. Moving with the wind of his storm let her get closer to him than fighting against it. When she opened her eyes, she realized he wasn't obscured by rain anymore. He never was-- her perception made it appear that way.
"I love you," Mikaela whispered.
"I love you, too," Optimus replied, unaware of her new understanding.
Footsteps clomped down the stairs. Elita's new snow boots were unmistakable.
"Dad? Are you sick today?"
Optimus raised his head and peered at her through tired, drooping optics. Everything about him practically sagged, like his whole body weighed too much for his Spark to carry.
"Never mind, I can tell you are." Elita took off her snow boots and dropped her coat on the floor. She climbed onto Optimus' other side. Her arms joined Mikaela's in embracing him. "We're here for you, daddy."
He tilted his head back, quietly tucking his bottom lip plate behind the top one. His optics squeezed shut. Several successive tremors rattled his armor.
"Dad?" Elita hedged, "Does it hurt?"
"No, sweet-Spark...it doesn't. My body thinks it's scared, but I keep telling it there's nothing to fear. It...it takes a moment for my body and mind to listen to each other. I-I'm all right. It's a speed bump day." Optimus managed to smile for her, "How about you help me cook some scrambled eggs and toast?"
Elita lit up at the prospect of aiding him. "Sure!"
Mikaela kissed his audio and released her hold on his shoulders. The blanket fell off when Optimus pushed himself upright. His hologram disappeared briefly as he switched between emitters, and the bits of silver nail polish he applied to his face last night drifted to the floor like autumn leaves. The pieces perfectly retained the shape of his eyelids. Mikaela swept them gently into the fireplace without a second thought.
Watching an eons-old alien warrior who fought valiant battles against impossible foes reduced to struggling with simple everyday kitchen tasks was almost unbearable.
Elita didn't seem so pained-- she got the toaster going and kept Optimus' hands steady while he stirred the eggs in the pan. She helped him add butter and a pinch of pepper. To her, assisting him through bad days was normal.
The toast popped up. Optimus almost hit the ceiling. He glared at the toaster and resumed stirring.
"Almost done, dad," Elita said cheerfully.
"Your assistance is greatly appreciated." Optimus bent and kissed the top of her head. He opened the refrigerator door with his heel and turned to reach inside. "I think we're ready to serve. Do you want ketchup on yours?"
"Nope." Elita's butter knife scraped across the toasted bread. "Mom?"
"Yeah, a little bit."
Optimus shook a small squirt of ketchup onto her scrambled eggs. The nearly empty bottle emitted a noise similar to flatulence. Elita snickered at that. He spun the bottle around and squeezed it harder. Ketchup splattered all over his face.
"Uh...oops."
Elita snorted into her napkin. Mikaela covered an amused smile. Optimus flickered his hologram. The ketchup hit the tiles below with a wet plop which he promptly cleaned up.
"That's the end of the ketchup," Optimus leaned on the kitchen counter. "Ketchup facials are the new craze. Who wants to try it next? Mikaela?"
"No thanks," Mikaela waved a hand, "Cold cucumbers are all I need for puffy eyes. Elita might be game for it. El, what'cha think?"
"Does my face look like hamburger meat to you?" Elita feigned offense at the notion.
Optimus chuckled and dumped the ketchup bottle in the recycle bin. He retreated into the living room to collapse on the couch with his head in his hands. A violent shiver twitched his whole body. He resembled someone suffering a fever and chills.
Mikaela almost abandoned her breakfast to comfort him, yet she knew he would send her back. So she watched over him silently instead. Only this time, she saw him and not a problem that needed solving.
"Doing okay, dad?" Elita broke the silence.
Optimus gave a quick thumbs up without raising his head.
"I'm picking up signals from the Voyager Two probe," he said, "I'll be able to spot it in a few more days, but...who wants to hear what the solar system sounds like?"
"Space makes noise? Seriously? How can it if there's no air?" Elita fled the table to jump on the couch next to him.
"The sound is in the form of electromagnetic waves. Every planet has a unique signature. Even Earth."
"Cool, can you play it?"
Optimus smiled at her exuberance. "Sure, sweet-Spark. Give me a moment to translate the signals into a proper audio format."
I can really see you now... Mikaela collected the dishes, switched the faucet on and breathed deeply inside her new understanding.You're fine, and so am I.
She raised her eyes and hoped for the coming new year to be less bumpy.
.o
.o
"Do you see what I see?

A rainbow shining over us

in the middle of a hopeless storm.

We'll be safe and warm!"
--Jon Secada, "I'm Free"
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Mesocyclone