#like Ray and his father hugging it out on the Great Wall of China (long story)

[isfjmel-phleg]

In the "Return of the Hero!" arc, Triumph/Will MacIntyre returns to a thoroughly demoralized JLA that consists almost entirely of B-listers. Maybe more like C-listers. They've recently been though the death of a teammate, followed by media backlash and a betrayal from another teammate. Most of the heroes that Will knew are gone: Barry is dead, Clark and Arthur and Dinah are otherwise occupied, and Hal is currently...evil?...for some reason?

Will is not impressed and makes that clear. None of the current JLA know who he is, and they don't find him particularly trustworthy. He and they finally, begrudgingly agree to work together, but he's just as disdainful with them as he was ten years before with the original team. And yet he's starting to reflect...

(Justice League Task Force #16)

Fights break out, culminating in a particularly heated one with Martian Manhunter which lands Will nearly drowning in the reflecting pool of the Lincoln Memorial.

And it's in this all-too-symbolic reflecting pool that Will finally has his moment of clarity. It really has been all about his ego.

So, this is it. This is what death feels like. Cold, dark, and lonely. Abandoned. It feels right. Feels like the way death should feel. It's what I deserve. Trained for this since I was thirteen. Since I knew I had the power. Dedicated my life to becoming a hero. And only now, years later, do I see the fatal flaw--the hero I created has no soul. No real reason to be a hero other than that's what I wanted to be. I was working the suit. Using just the right pitch in my voice as I barked orders and took command. Never really understanding that real heroes are often thrust into those roles by some tragedy...some pain in their lives. They don't just wake up one day and decide to put on a costume. The uniform means something to them. It's a symbol...a reminder of the price they've paid to wear it. Amazing how, in death, your vision crystallizes and you see clearly for the first time--I have no right calling myself a hero. I don't even know the meaning of the word. And now, as death approaches, I can only beg--forgive me--please--teach me--

(Justice League International 1994 #68)

This is perhaps the most honest he's ever been with himself. And even so, it's still not entirely honest--as emphasized by his emerging from the pool only to ignominiously fall again at the feet of the statue of Abraham "Honest Abe" Lincoln.

Setting aside the inconsistencies with what he will later tell another team about the timeline of his training and acquiring powers, the dishonesty is that he did have more of a reason to become a hero than simply wanting to be one.

He did it to spite his father, a supervillain's henchman who put his family through an unstable existence before finally going to prison for decades. Eight-year-old Will resented his father and determined to be everything that he wasn't. There has been tragedy behind Will's heroism--the tragedy of a broken family and a hurt child--but where other heroes have met their tragedies with altruism and a desire to right the world's wrongs, Will has responded by locking himself away behind arrogance and detachment. Saving lives isn't an end in itself for him; it's the means by which he can feel he has worth and superiority.

That plea for forgiveness and teaching is quite a comedown for him, quite uncharacteristic humility. Even so, however, it's only voiced in his thoughts. He never admits his shame and desire for forgiveness to his teammates. He and J'onn do finally make up, but without actual apology. It's basically just a truce.

The moment of clarity would have been an expected place for the culmination of an arc. But it's not that simple for Will to learn the error of his ways and become a model of humble heroism henceforth. This is only the beginning of what will become a pattern of jerkish behavior, remorse and identifying the problm, resolve to do better...only to fail again. There was so much promise in what he realized in the reflecting pool, yet nothing but irony in how he will proceed to ignore every word of it.

Except perhaps the part of about having no soul, in the end.

[pepsi-writes]

all american stories

He leaned on the door to support his weight as he laughs the hardest he has ever laughed in his entire life. Imaginary friend? Mr. Wiggles? Those thoughts alone were making America cackle.

"We are serious. Mr. Wiggles," Mrs. Dorji shivered at the mention of that name, "has been absolutely terrorizing Tandin for the last few weeks, and we would absolutely like you to get rid of him. Alas, we have tried to get rid of Mr. Wiggles, but..." She trailed off, trembling from remembering the event. She looked back up, tears now streaming across her face. Mr. Dorji wrapped an arm around his wife as a desperate attempt to comfort her. America finally gained enough composure to choke out a "A-alright, alright, I'll get rid of whatever Mr. Wiggles is, and you two and Tandin can rest assured that Mr. Wiggles won't terrorize anybody, anymore!"

With that, he snatched his Super - Duper - Totally - Effective - Imaginary - Friend - Destroyer - 3000 and let the Dorji's lead him to what he assumed was Tandin's room. As Mr. Dorji opened the door,  America thought to himself.

Come on, Meri, the guy's name is Mr. Wiggles!

Mrs Dorji was probably exaggerating anyway. Who even cries over an imaginary friend?

It can't be that bad.

Right?

-----

NATO turned to America with a decisive look. "I've decided that I cannot call you 'United States of America' anymore, since you are my father. I've compiled a list of possible 'nicknames', in which you will choose one for me to address you as."

America squinted, unsure of why his son was being so stuffy and formal. This was a party after-woah. NATO had pulled out a super long list, so long that it brushed against the floor whenever he moved. "Let us begin with the first name. Father?" he quizzed. "No," America answered. "Too formal for me."

NATO let out an 'ah', then continued.

"Vater?"

"No. I keep on forgetting what that means, anyway."

"Daddy-"

"Absolutely not."

"Old man?"

"Come on, I'm not that old." America chuckled.

NATO tried many different variations, many different spellings, and many different nicknames. At this point, America just wanted to get into his car and drive home. After thirty minutes of NATO shouting out names, he decided to do just that. As soon as America unlocked the door to his house, he bolted to his bed and flopped on it, embracing its soft covers. The enchanting aroma of his pillow and the layers of warm quilts combined felt quite nice actually.

So nice, actually, that he fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

He woke up to a person delicately shaking him, as if he was a wilting flower. He couldn't see the figure very clearly, but he made out enough of the figures' features to identify it as NATO. NATO himself kneeled down to softly whisper in his father's ear:

"Papa?"

"I-wha-No!"

according to wattpad people love this shitpost the most

------

"China!" America saw him and ran towards him, his arms outstretched for a rare hug.

"America!" China also ran towards him, cradling something behind his back.

"China!" America cocked a rifle that he had behind his back.

"America!" China pulled out a shoulder-fired-missile weapon.

-----------

America turned his camera to the sign. The "T" flickered in and out, while the other letters stayed bright as if there were nothing wrong with its companion. For America, that was perfect vine material. No matter if he had to get out of his car and stand in the freezing rain. He wasn't going to throw away his shot.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, putting on his announcer voice, "welcome to, T-T-T-T-TARGET!"

------------

this is just one big dad joke

America, looked at Austria with a perplexed expression on his face. "What do you mean 'don't eat that'? It's just an apple. You can do my check-up as soon as I eat it." He held the apple closer to his mouth, its red skin glistening in the dim lights of the therapy room.

Austria snatched the apple and walked over to the nearest garbage can, opening the lid.

"That's the point," he seethed, throwing away the apple. "Haven't you ever heard of the rhyme? They say it all the time in your clay."

"What rhyme are you talking about?" America said, wondering if there was something he missed while not paying attention at school. Was it a nursery rhyme like 'Ring Around the Rosie,' or-

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away, you dummkopf!" he yelled.

Oh, that rhyme.

"I'm allergic to apples, so if you eat an apple, I can't do scheiße to you during our session. Were you not listening when I told everybody this?" Austria questioned.

"Ye-"

"Good. Now never eat an apple again."

--------

"Are you drunk?" Russia asked, looking down at America who was laying face flat on the pool table.

America flipped over so he was facing Russia. "No, I'm not," he replied, but the shit-eating grin on his face told him otherwise. "You're drrrunk."

Russia shook his head. This was the third time America had gotten drunk this week. What was happening with his life that he needed to drink every time he had his back turned? "Come on, we're going home."

America's face morphed into one of exaggerated displeasure."Noooooooo!"

"Stop complaining. We're going home, and you're going to bed."

two bros walking each other home. i deleted some fluff because it was bad.

-------

Russia tipped America's head up, revealing his awful eye bags. Examining them closely, he said, "Do you feel okay? Because you don't look okay."

America slowly pulled away to take a sip of his sixth cup of coffee since one in the morning. He gave a shaky thumbs up. "Never been better."

"You're going to bed."

"Already passing out."

---------

His eyelids fluttered open.

The first thing that America noticed was that he wasn't home, or anywhere, actually. Surveying his surroundings, he guessed he was in some sort of basement. A gust of wind blew against the mahogany curtain that decorated the only window in the room, fluttering them open and sending a single ray of light his way. America squinted at the sudden light, his sight still hazy. He tried to stretch out, but something kept him still. As soon as his vision cleared he looked down to see what was keeping him in place.

The second thing America noticed was that he was bound to a chair. By rope. Great. Now he got kidnapped. Wow. Astronomical. Phenomical.

He tried to remember what got him in this situation. He could admit, he had terrible memory - and the memories came flooding back, almost as if a wall broke down. Getting invited out for dinner, drinking some spicy juice or something at a bar, feeling weird, but not in a drunken weird. Getting dragged out to an alley by an adult child. His head hurting for a split second and then everything going black-oh. He was drugged and knocked out; he should have thought of this earlier. It seemed pretty cliche to be stuck in this situation, but everything that's happened lately might as well have been one of John Mulaney's stories.

The third thing America noticed was that he was bored. Like, super bored. Being shoved in a basement didn't prove frightening to him, just boring. Besides, he didn't get to experience the supposed scary part of it, so what's the point anyway? He was more accustomed to being swift with everything, living the, excuse his language, fast life. Tapping his foot, America satisfied himself with the blowing curtain, watching it flap in neverending waves, never settling. Damn, he really wanted some music to go with this. Even if it was Britain's despised classical music, he just wanted something other than this silence, this nothing.

-----

America stared in horror as the figure stepped closer into the light. Colombia gripped his arm tightly, and he was sure that would leave a bruise later. Now he could see that the figure had their arms up in surrender and that they looked confused, as if they didn't know what was going on. Their flag looked like a carbon copy of Colombia's, but only with a coat of arms in the middle.

"Colombia?" the country asked, their eyes lighting up. Colombia? That complete stranger knew his name?

He gasped. "Educador! Compadre, compadre, ¿como estas? ¿Quieres agua o algo para relajarte?"

Colombia knew this guy?

-----

America walked up to her, giggling at his phone. "Hey, come look at this video I made of you! Bet you'll like it~", he teased, trying to get Slovakia's attention.

Slovakia turned around, obviously annoyed. "Fine, but it better not be embarrassing, and you better not have shown it to Czech." America snickered at her mention of Czech, knowing that Slovakia was still basically lovesick for him. He handed her the phone, and clicked play.

Czech walked up to Slovakia's door, Hungary following close behind and eventually settling on the chair that was placed next to her door. He let out a sigh, checking his watch. He finally said in a small voice, "Slovensko, are you ok? We haven't heard from you all day. Hungary's practically begging to leave the house," she glared daggers at Czech , but he continued. "but Poland says he's not leaving without you."

No answer.

"Slovensko? Are you asleep? It's okay if you're sleeping, and in fact Hungary and I will leave you alone to-"

"Open up, fucknugget." This time Hungary was speaking, and in a low voice that definitely sounded agitated.

"Hun!" Czech scolded. "Meri is  right there ," he said, gesturing to the camera, "you can't curse in front of him!"

Hungary ignored her coworker and continued to yell at the door.

"We've been waiting for you for the entire day and if you don't get your ass out here  right now , I'll go in there and haul it out myself."

This time, the door slowly opened, revealing Slovakia, wrapped up in a large blanket.

To say she looked terrible was an understatement. Her hair was sticking out every which way, there were bags under her eyes, dried drool lined her cheeks, and mascara and eyeliner was smeared all over her face.

"Why are you here so early? Did UN schedule an meeting for 7 AM aga-"

"Why are you looking like absolute shit? It's one in the afternoon," Hungary spat, grabbing Czech's hand to look at his watch. "Get your shit together and let's go."

America erupted in giggles, shaking the camera so hard that the phone fell over, and then-

The recording suddenly ends.

"Meri," Slovakia looked up from the phone. "What the fuck."

------

Nothing in life made him happy. It was not a choice for him, but a necessity. If nothing amused him, entertained him, made him so that he enjoyed it, then he wouldn't get attached. He would be prepared for the end, and embrace it with open arms. He would-

The alarm clock blared with an ugly noise, echoing throughout the entire room and interrupting America's monologue. He stayed up all night again, because of course he did. This English paper wasn't going to finish itself, and he definitely needed some time to brood over his past decisions. In fact, he moped more than he actually wrote, and now he got only three paragraphs done - oh no. Now, bullshitting through it was his only option. He frantically opened his document filled with his past notes. America stole a glance at the pages written the day before, and he saw that there was only one. Oh God he was fucked. He stared at the document, trying to decipher the broken English that he typed during the long, boring lecture.

Romeo + Juliet good, at least he got that going.

Paris bad, okay, as in France's understudy in that one play that everybody's buzzing about. He could remember that.

They both die in the end: Romeo finds Juliet sleeping but thinks she's dead and so he kills himself, but Juliet wakes up and dies too by the same blade. Damn, were these even notes? This was a crappy summary of the end of the story, but he could build off of this. Okay, so he could bullshit a few more pages, proofread them to make sure it actually looks presentable, and then turn it in ten minutes before the clock.

America set to typing, typing as fast as he possibly could. Being in a coffee filled rage certainly did help him though, since he practically wrote two pages in like, an hour. Not good for a college sophomore like him, but there were only seven pages left to write. For once in his lazy, unmotivational life, America was not going to slack off and wait. This paper was the deciding grade for the semester, and- ooooh, was that a new update from Russia's Instagram- NO, he had to stay focused. The time whizzed by as he wrote like his life depended on it, because it did. If he didn't turn this dumb paper in, then he couldn't graduate, and then he would never get a job, and then he would be living on the streets- ugh, snap out of it already! He had already become too distracted throughout the night and he had work to finish. He could at least pass with an A, and then he could get an actual job and he would make UK proud, and he would make Canada not embarrassed to go out with him in public anymore, and-

Three hours later, and he had - very slowly - written his paper, skimmed it through, and turned it in, except this time it was nine minutes before the due date. He would probably get a D or something; you never knew with Mr. Williams. He would give you an A for a completely crappy paper, and in the same breath slap a old, hard, F on a paper that you had poured your soul into. Trust him, America knew from experience.

~

Five weeks later, he received his grade for the semester. Opening it, his first analysis of the paper was that his grades, were, at best, not so shabby. As his eyes drifted down from each class, they finally landed on his English grade.

A B+, with a comment that says 'Good work!'  Not so bad for a procrastinating country like him, huh?

challenge: take a shot every time i write "bullshit."

[sparksinger]

New chapter of ‘Brave Heart’ posted!

I finally got round to finishing the latest chapter of ‘Brave Heart’! Go and have a gander if you’re interested! xD 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12476933/15/Brave-Heart // fanfiction link. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8860048/chapters/29871465 // ao3 link. 

Or alternatively, you can find it under the cut! ^_^ 

Optimus paced up and down the observation deck of Lockdown's borrowed ship, Cordelia sleeping soundly in his armoured arms.  Her red hair spilled over his arm.  Using his free hand, he gently brushed away the few stray strands that had found their way across her face.  The cuts she'd sustained on Lockdown's ship had scabbed over and were no longer bleeding.  They were not severe injuries, but the mere sight of them caused Optimus' Spark to swell furiously behind its casing.  

They had left the Atlantic Ocean behind some time ago, but that fact did little to ease the worry gnawing away at Optimus' processor.  He'd been holding her in his arms for three hours, and he wasn't about to let her go.  

His audio covers rotated furiously, spinning this way and that. He looked down at Cordelia, taking in her slumbering form.  Her usually alabaster skin was flushed and pink.  He held her in the crook of his left arm, enveloping her in a safety net of metallic armour.  He looked out through the ship’s huge windows, out at the great architectural feat that the humans called ‘the Great Wall of China.’  It meandered across the land like a great serpent.  One of the only human creations that was visible from space.  Optimus sighed, his hydraulics emitting excess air and shifted his weight, careful not to disturb Cordelia.  Her vulnerable state reminded him of the night they had first met, all those years ago. She had changed so much in the last ten years, not just in appearance, but character as well.  She was good and kind, and she made Optimus’ Spark sing. He allowed a tiny smile onto his faceplate, remembering their awkward interaction after he had carried her away from the traffic bridge.

.o

Optimus looked out at the city that was Tranquility, marvelling at the greenery that surrounded him. The last few days had flown past, even for Optimus, who had been alive longer than the human race had existed. The Decepticons had been defeated, and the Autobots had been formally accepted by the Earth’s governments as refugees.  Despite this, his Spark was still weighed down with worry and concern.  Worry about what the Decepticons would do without their leader.  Worry at how he and his Autobots would be received by the people of Earth.  Worry for the little redhead sitting at his feet. She was playing absent-mindedly with a strand of grass, twirling it around in her long fingers.  The sun’s rays were just starting to descend, the light catching his armour, sending a prism of colours and shapes into his field of vision.  The way that the sun caught Cordelia’s hair never ceased to amaze Optimus.  It was a deep, rich red colour that the humans referred to as ‘auburn’.  It was a colour that he’d never seen the like of on Cybertron, and it absolutely fascinated him.  She rose to her feet, placing a tentative hand on the wheel arch that also doubled as his ankle.  He lowered himself to a kneeling positon.  She looked up at him with the deep green pools that were her eyes.  She was but a child.  Optimus could not help himself as his hands cupped her tiny, fragile body and brought her close to his chest.  She was a feather weight in his palm; her tiny hands exploring his for a hand-hold. She wrapped an arm around his thumb, smiling shyly up at him.  

In the short week that he had known Cordelia, Optimus had been drawn in by the mysterious aura that seemed to accompany her.  He was totally fascinated by the way the blood rose steadily from her neck up to her cheeks whenever he was gentle with her.  He felt incredibly protective of her, and had already fought to defend her life.  He thought back to the anger and sheer fury that he had felt when she had been taken by Seymour Simmons of Sector 7, shaking his head in quiet amazement at himself.  She was the first being, the first in eons that he had felt free enough to be himself around.  Under the cloud of war, he was expected to be a pillar of strength for his soldiers.  Being a Prime was a heavy burden upon his shoulders, but it was a burden that he carried willingly and with pride.  Cordelia didn’t see Optimus Prime, she saw Optimus.  Optimus, the mech who was always thirsty for new knowledge.  Optimus, the one who would lay down his very Spark for any of his soldiers, no questions asked.  Ever since saving her life at the traffic bridge, Optimus had felt an incomprehensible and undeniable pull towards the human female.  He held her up to eye level, examining the cuts on her face and arms.  

“Lia, what do you want to do?”  As he spoke, he delicately moved a strand of red hair from her face.  She shied away from him, burying her face in her hands. “Cordelia, I won’t hurt you.  I promise.  I will never, ever harm you.”  She looked up, tears swimming in her green eyes.

“I know.  It’s just…it’s still burned into my brain.” She sighed and patted his hand by way of apology.  “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry little one.”  He closed one optic in a wink, earning a small smile from the tiny organic perched on his palm.  She leaned back into his fingers, relaxing once more.

“Optimus, what do I do now?  I can’t go back to my dad, it’ll kill me.  I can’t stay with Leo, it’s just not possible.  But I can’t not have Leo in my life; he means everything to me and I-“

“Shh.  Easy little one.  Be calm.”  She nodded and wiped her face, her breathing resuming a normal rhythm.  “I may have a solution.  Do you wish to hear it?”  She nodded, her gaze earnest and hopeful.  

“Okay.”

“The American government are going to locate us, that is, we Autobots to a base on the remote island of Diego Garcia.  Firstly, would you like to contact Leo and inform him of your whereabouts?  I am sure he’s very worried about you. Secondly, would you like to accompany me to Diego Garcia and set up a permanent residence there?  You won’t be the only human on the base; military personnel will be living there as well.”  Optimus watched Cordelia’s face, taking in her expressions.  She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“Come and – come and live with you?”  Optimus nodded.  

“Affirmative. But only if you want to.” Cordelia hugged herself to his thumb.

“I would love to! Oh Optimus, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.  Thank you. Thank you so much.”  Once more, Optimus was caught off-guard by Cordelia’s laid-back attitude around him and her eagerness to show him affection, despite all that she had suffered at the hands of her father.  He raised her to his face once more and gently brushed his lip plates across her auburn hair.

“No little one, thank you.”

.o

Optimus was interrupted from his reverie as Cade walked into the room. Optimus watched through semi-curious optics as Cade settled himself into a small recess in the ground that was meant for cargo.  He leaned forward, placing his toned arms on his knees.  There was silence for a few minutes save for the low thrumming of Cade’s heartbeat.  Optimus heard Cade swallow somewhat nervously before he took in a large volume of air.

“Optimus?”  Optimus inclined his head toward Cade, but gave no other indication that he had heard him speak.  Cade carried on, nervously rubbing his hands together as he spoke.  “Optimus, you didn’t really mean it when you said you were done fighting for humans did you?”

Optimus looked at the tiny young woman nestled in the crook of his left arm.  His Spark ached just at the mere sight of her, pulsating furiously in its chamber. Could he truly abandon humanity?  His audial covers rotated clockwise and counter-clockwise as he deliberated his answer.  The weight of Cordelia was so light in his arms, but so heavy in his Spark. She had come into his life, casting a bright beacon of light, eliminating all the darkness that resided within his Spark.  

He knelt to regard Cade more on his level, casting him in a gentle pool of blue light from his weary optics.

 “How many more of my kind must be sacrificed to atone for your mistakes?!”  He got to his feet again, hydraulics and joints hissing as he straightened to his full height.  He hadn’t meant the words to sound as accusing as they had, but Cade still shrunk back from them all the same.  

Cade sighed, not looking at Optimus as he spoke.  “What do you think being human means?  That’s what we do; we make mistakes…and sometimes out of those mistakes come the most amazing things.”  Optimus said nothing, watching the seemingly endless Great Wall snake past as the ship progressed.  “You know, when I fixed you, it was for a reward, that was it.  That was why.  The money. And that was me making a mistake. And without that mistake, you wouldn’t be here.  And neither would she.”  He gestured to Cordelia, sleeping soundly in Optimus’ arms.  “So even if you’ve got no faith in us, I’m asking you to do what I do.  I’m asking you to look at all the junk and see the treasure.  You gotta have faith Prime, in who we can be.”  

Optimus sighed and allowed his shoulders to sag.  Cade smiled at him half-heartedly and suddenly became very interested in the gun that he had swiped from Lockdown’s ship.

Cordelia stirred lightly in his arms, turning onto her other side. He moved a few stray strands of hair from her face with all the gentleness he could muster.  He thought back to the vulnerable young child she had been on their first meeting.  The roundness of her freckled cheeks had given way to well defined cheekbones and a delicate face framed by deep auburn hair.   Her body had become more feminine and lithe as she went through the physical and physiological changes that accompanied growing from a child into a young adult.  Optimus had watched in pride and quiet amazement as Cordelia grew from a timid young girl into a kind and loving young woman.  

Yes, he had seen the junk.  And she was the treasure that outshone all of it.

.o

When I awoke, my left arm was numb from being under my cheek for so long.  I was deliciously warm and I could hear Optimus’ Spark humming nearby.  I stretched and felt Optimus’ arms shift underneath me.  I sat up and scooted myself into his waiting hand before he brought me up to eye level.

“Did you sleep well little one?”  His optics tilted ever so slightly upwards in his unique smile.

“Yes, thank you.  Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep for so long.”  

He shook his head at me, a hint of sadness creeping into the edges of his optics.  “Don’t be silly; the amount of time you spend in recharge is never a problem for me Cordelia; you know that.”  I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks at his words and looked away from him, suddenly embarrassed.  He chuckled, a low rumbling sound that wasn’t unlike the low echoing of a distant waterfall. “Would you please excuse me for ten minutes or so?  I need to brief the Autobots before we make our arrival in Hong Kong.  There are some developments that they should be made aware of.”  

“Sure, go ahead.  I’ll wait here.”  He let me down on the ground, straightening up and walking out of the vast room with easy grace.

I turned to look back out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, marvelling at the scenery as it whirled quietly by.  I thought of the events of the past forty-eight hours, the past week…the past year and a half.  I thought of Leo, sitting alone in his Sheriff’s office, printing out countless missing posters.  I thought of my own face on those missing posters, wondering if I would ever get to see him again.  Would I ever be able to see the way his smile made his soft blue eyes wrinkle in the corners, the way his large hands curled around mine when he was trying to erase the memories of my hellish father?  Tears pricked the back of my eyes and I rubbed at them furiously, not wanting Optimus to see that I was teetering on some perilous edge with a bottomless drop below.  

Minutes and minutes went by, how many I wasn’t sure of because my mind had suddenly decided that dissociating at that exact moment would be a good idea.  I was vaguely aware of Cade moving about in the background, fussing gently over Tessa in that way that only over-attentive fathers could over their daughters.  

I sat down on the floor, bringing my knees up to my chest. Despite sleeping for a long time, I suddenly felt exhausted, drained both mentally and physically.  I rested my head on top of my knees, letting my eyes close.  One lone tear rolled down my cheek and I wiped it away angrily, annoyed at myself for getting upset now.  

I heard Optimus’ footsteps re-enter the room.  Even though he trod lightly, his footfalls still sent small tremors through the ship floor.  They increased in intensity as he slowly lowered himself to sit next to me, one leg outstretched and the other pulled up to his chest.  His joints hissed as he sat down, ruffling my hair gently in a puff of cool air.  It was like sitting next to a building; it was impossible not to be physically aware of him.  I stood and went to lean against his thigh, running my hand up and down the cable subconsciously.  

“Are you okay?”  I asked without turning to face him.  A hundred different shades of green swirled past us, bathing the Great Wall in a kaleidoscope of emerald, chartreuse, lime, pine and juniper greens.  The mountains that surrounded the structure were like great, silent sentinels, standing guard against any threat, however big or small.

Optimus’ hand came down to rest on his thigh.  He drummed lightly with his fingers before taking my hand softly between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed tiny circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, the same way I did to him when he was feeling anxious or stressed.  

“Did you know that this structure is 13,171 miles long?  The original walls were built as early as the 7th Century and were later joined together with other walls to make them bigger and stronger.  It was built primarily for defence and to mark borders.  It truly is an incredible feat of architecture, when you take into account how long ago it was built; at a time when humans did not possess heavy machinery to do their heavy lifting and-“

“Stop!”  He looked down at me in surprise, his lip plates slightly open.  “Stop it!  Don’t avoid the question.  Optimus, I NEED to know; are you okay?” My voice rose an octave, causing my words to come out as a shriek.  His finger moved from my hand to my face.  It never ceased to amaze me how he could touch me so gently, and with so much love in such a simple gesture as touching my cheek.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.  Optimus, I just need to know; are you okay?  At the train yard, you…you were so angry.”  His optics dimmed slightly, and I could almost see the storm clouds rolling across them.  He rubbed his face with his free hand, his nose pinched between thumb and forefinger.

“Cordelia, I am so, so very sorry that you had to witness that behaviour from me.  It was totally unacceptable and I am utterly ashamed of myself.”  Frustration seeped into my veins and I pulled my hand free from his grasp, walking up and down the length of his leg.

“Optimus, I don’t care about that!  I just need to know if you’re okay!  I don’t care if you beat the living shit out of a tree, or if you flatten a shopping centre! I love you, and I need to know!”  Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, and I turned away from him, not wanting him to see me cry.  His servos whirred as he moved to pick me up, resting his hand palm up on the ground, an invitation.  I climbed on, groggily, lethargically.  

“Cordelia, I am not quite okay, but I am on the way there, with your help.  This will pass, and we will help each other through it.  It will be okay.  You are, and always will be my most important priority.  I will never forsake you Cordelia.”  

“Thank you…and I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to get angry with you.”  I slumped down in his palm, dropping my gaze from his.  

“Are you okay?”  I shook my head, burying my face in my hands.

“I’m terrified Optimus, I’m scared of not knowing what they next day will bring, I’m scared of everybody I encounter, I’m scared that I’m never going to see Leo again, but above all, I am absolutely terrified of losing you.  I can’t lose you.  I just can’t!”  My breathing sped up again, coming out in short sharp bursts.  I felt Optimus’ finger move to rub my back in a slow, rhythmic motion, and I tried to time my panicked gasps to the movement.  He brought me close to his chest, knowing that the low hum of his Spark would help to calm me.  Minutes passed, and gradually the stabbing pain in my chest eased and my breathing regained a healthier pace.

“Shh.  I’m here and I am not going anywhere.  I won’t ever go anywhere unless you send me away.”  

“I won’t ever send you away.”  I mumbled into his chest, earning a small chuckle.  He raised me to his face, and his expression softened and gave way to pure, undiluted love.

“That’s my girl.”  He dipped his head forward, very carefully touching my nose with his.  I giggled and planted a small kiss on the smooth metal that felt like porcelain against my lips.  He rose to his feet, cupping me safely in his hand.  When I looked up again, I saw that the countryside had given way to thick clusters of buildings, a mixture of high rise apartments and skyscrapers.  

“We’re here!”  

“Yes little one, indeed we are.  Now we just need to-“  He didn’t get a chance to utter another word as the ship rocked violently in the air. The force caused Optimus to lose his balance and he stumbled backwards, moving his other hand underneath the one I was nestled in to hold me steady.  The ship started to spin sickeningly fast, and soon the only thing I could visually register were Optimus’ fingers grasped tightly around my middle.  The ship was spinning too fast for me to figure out where we were, or even to know what had happened.  

Optimus adjusted his grip on me so I was clutched more securely in his fist.  He made his way to the cockpit, using one arm to hold onto the wall so that he didn’t lose his balance.  Noises of alarms and instruments beeping was the only thing I could hear.  Drift’s lips moved, as did Optimus’, but I could not work out what they were saying.  

Optimus’ optics widened as he saw something I could not.  He turned and knelt, using his body to shield me. “Autobots, brace for impact!”