#ugh ive edited this at least 4 times and im still finding typos in the introductory

[emergency-vehicle]

Saudade, Saudade

TRANSFORMERS PRIME | SONG FIC

CHARACTERS: Optimus Prime (Deceased), Ratchet, Original Character- Daniel Tarfeld

RELATIONSHIP: Optimus Prime/Ratchet

WORD COUNT: 4.2 K

WARNINGS: Semi-Graphic depictions of depression, grieving loss of a loved one, self neglect

SUMMARY: It's been well over three vorn since Optimus Prime's passing, and Ratchet is taking it about as well as the next bot. Stationed back on Earth, the old medic spends most of his time alone. Most. With his only sort of contact being a human, Ratchet would much rather sit in silence as they work together. However today, Daniel Tarfeld (his government assigned apprentice) has different plans.

RECOMMENDED LISTENING: Saudade, Saudade - MARO, Better in the Morning - Birdtalker, Sound the Bugle - Brian Adams

“I did not come to this planet to save one life, only to lose the life I care about the most!”

The words ripped from Ratchet’s vox. The world around him was crisp, white, hazy. There was a rising panic running up his neural array, making the hydraulics in his arms and legs tense up, poised and ready to run.

“Ratchet…” His name was sweet to the audials, Prime’s voice thick with emotion.

“Optimus…please.” Ratchet’s voice was soft, ragged. “Don’t leave.”

His Prime smiled at him. Softly, sweetly. It pulled at his spark, the pain in his chest growing. He could see the reflection of it in Optimus’ optics, the way the smile didn’t reach them. Optimus stepped forward, away from the well. Ratchet couldn’t help the pitiful, pleading swell of hope that came from his EM field, reaching out to him.

Optimus’ smile turned sad as he placed his servo on his lover’s face, his thumb gently tracing the tracks below his eyes.

“You know I must.” He whispered. Ratchet relished his voice. “But I will never be truly gone.”

His hand moved to cover Ratchet’s chest, feeling the raw sorrow that emanated from his spark.

“I will always be with you, even if you cannot see me.”

Optimus’ bright optics searched his own. Their fields mingled, Ratchet could feel how his own grief was mirrored tenfold by his Prime. He knew that this choice wasn’t a choice. It was Optimus’ charge, his duty- his mission.

Ratchet leaned his head against his Prime’s sturdy chest, relishing his sparkbeat one final time. He could hold his emotions in no longer as a sob so forceful came from deep within him it made his voice modulator crack and reset. He had never dreamed it would end like this. At so many points he thought he would lose Optimus- his battles with the Decepticons, the cybonic plague, the destruction of their base, the endless war. That? Those endings? Those were expected. Those he could make sense of.

But this? No. Never this.

“I’m so, so sorry, old friend.”

The apology rang hollow in his audial sensors, no matter how heartfelt it was.

Ratchet let Optimus pull away without a fight. The world spun around him as he took his place at the lip of the well, the words that came from his vox muted and unintelligible. He could only watch in abject horror as Optimus Prime fell backwards into the well.

The new sparks, their bright colors flitting around could not bring Ratchet out of his trance. He was barely aware of how the others reacted, their oohs and aahs falling on deaf audio processors. All Ratchet could see was the space in which Optimus Prime said his last words. The space in which, only mere moments ago, Optimus Prime had stood. The space in which Optimus Prime made his ultimate sacrifice.

—

Ratchet woke up with a start. He always did. Ever since the nightmare on Cybertron happened, he was lucky if he got three hours of recharge.

Wearily, the Autobot pulled up his HUD. It was showing to be 5:34 AM, Eastern Standard time. Huh. Maybe he had gotten more recharge than he thought.

With a groan, he stood from his berth, stretching his struts and reaching his servos above his helm. The stretches had become more painful as time went on, and it certainly didn’t help that he had…neglected…his personal upkeep.

Ratchet drank energon, he oiled the joints connecting his digits to his servos, but anything else had simply become a waste of time. Once, maybe twice a week, did he visit the washracks. Not that it mattered, mechs did not emit the same terrible smell that the children once did. He only did it because he had found himself traveling a lot more than before.

True to his word, Ratchet had stayed back on Earth. He preferred it this way- no reminders. Nothing but his sterile lab and the meetings with annoying bureaucrats. Agent Fowler had graciously relocated Ratchet to a much smaller base, somewhere far away from Jasper, Nevada. The old medic found himself in a place called Oakridge, Tennessee.

He was placed under the watchful eye of an Army reserve base, which suited him just fine. Ratchet liked the routines of the base. They were familiar, and somehow, oddly comforting. The same as Unit E, but different enough to put his neural net at ease.

The humans of Tennessee were much different than those of Nevada. It was hard to believe that they were of the same country. Their speech was slower, their smiles more abundant, their culture far more community focused. Not that Ratchet would ever spend more time than he had to with them, of course. He simply preferred to observe.

Still, he could imagine that Optimus would- would have- gotten along quite well with them.

Ratchet had to stop, shutter his optics, and take in a deep vent. Nope. He would not be thinking about that today.

He let the vent out slowly and refocused.

Ratchet had work to do. Work was good. Work kept his mind busy, and more importantly, distracted.

He drug himself out of the small berthroom and into the nerve center he called his lab. Pristine scientific equipment, that was certainly in much better shape than him, greeted him. The project that was currently in progress stood in the middle of the room. If someone were to walk in on his work, they would think they had just walked into a clean room. Nothing was out of place, nothing was dirty, and everything was in perfect repair. Just how he liked it.

Graciously, once the Deception threat had passed from Earth's history, Agent Fowler had somehow found the funding to give Ratchet what he truly needed to work. It sat bitterly in the bot’s chest. His team was not deserving of this equipment, but as soon as there was a promise to share technological advancements, suddenly he had everything he needed.

Fragging bureaucrats.

With a heavy vent, Ratchet set to work.

The decision to share Cybertronian technology was a difficult one. At the start of his employment of sorts, he had to act as a liaison between Cybertron and Earth as they fought over agreements and boundaries.

No, they could not share biological information. Yes, they could share fuel efficiency techniques. No, they could not have space bridge technology. Yes, they could work on upgrading their spaceflight program.

It was a terrible back and forth that Ratchet had found himself in the middle of, but by the grace of the Allspark, agreements had finally been made, and he could stop with the nonsense of intergalactic politics.

He had just sat down to work on engine schematics when there was a knock at the door. Ratchet’s left optic twitched in irritation before he turned.

“Come in.” His voice was biting, tired. The usual.

The tiny door opened and an even tinier being walked in. It wasn’t Fowler. No, Fowler had much more important things to tend to nowadays. This was Daniel Tarfeld. He didn’t bother to remember his rank. Ratchet had given up on getting close to humans.

“Good morning, Ratchet.” Daniel said.

“Daniel.”

The man- really a boy- had a shock of red hair and freckles that smattered around his face and arms. He was built smaller than other males of his species, but his ferocious spirit more than made up for it. If Ratchet had been softer, he would’ve imagined that Daniel would be delightful company.

But, Ratchet was decidedly not soft. He was tired, in constant pain, and terribly sad. Though, he’d never admit that last part to the boy who had been assigned as his apprentice.

Daniel wasn’t army. He was in this new service branch. Space Force. Ratchet had heard whispers about its controversial christening on base, but he cared none for Earth politics.

“Shall we get to work?” Daniel’s voice was raspy, sounding almost as tired as Ratchet felt. Almost.

Ratchet nodded. He reached a servo down and Daniel stepped up. He brought the apprentice to the large desk, letting him step off before turning back to the schematic.

The human quietly opened the satchel around his torso, bringing out his own laptop. Ratchet got the notification that he had connected via bluetooth and soon they shared control of the screens. This was their routine. They would work in silence, with the occasional conversation; always about work. Never about each other.

“You look like shit.” Daniel commented after a few minutes.

Ratchet side eyed him, the corner of his mouth flicking up in disgust, before turning his optics back to the screen.

“You don’t look much better, yourself.”

That earned him a huff, though Ratchet wasn’t sure if it was a laugh, or out of annoyance. He didn’t really care. His digits continued to tack away at the large keyboard as his processor ran complicated equations.

A few more moments passed in silence. Ratchet’s audials picked up on the soft sound of Daniel rustling, but he paid it no mind.

“Were you always such an ass?” Daniel asked.

Ratchet’s digits paused, hovering above the keyboard. He slowly turned his helm towards the boy, optics squinted. Daniel had shut his laptop now, staring at Ratchet with big blue eyes. They were hard. The mech realized he was expecting an answer.

Ratchet did not give him one.

Daniel squinted, his own mouth turned into a bit of a sneer. The silence between them was frigid.

“Get back to work.” Ratchet finally said.

“No.” Daniel said, voice firm.

Ratchet shuttered his optics rapidly, taken slightly aback, “What has gotten into you?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Daniel shot back, “Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve been working together for a year and a half, and the only words I’ve ever heard from you are-”

His voice mocked Ratchet’s own, “Daniel. And, Goodbye.”

“I’m not sure what you’re expecting from me,” Ratchet said. “We are working. I work better in silence. Not listening to prattling about what silly things you have gotten up to this weekend.”

“I’m expecting more than just a cold shoulder.” Daniel said, “I know you’ve spent time with humans before. You must know we are social creatures who thrive on interaction.”

His final sentence had dripped with mockery. Ratchet’s plates flared a bit as he gave an incensed exvent. Oh, how he wished humans could taste EM fields, if only so Daniel could feel the “leave me the frag alone” that was radiating from the bot.

“If you must know, Tarfeld,” Ratchet spat the name, “I do not prefer human company, and I do prefer to keep my relationships professional.”

“So,” The bot waved his huge servo towards the laptop, “Get back to work.”

Daniel shook his head and crossed his legs, his arms tight against his chest. He looked at the mech defiantly, tiny hands gripping his tiny arms so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I am not working until we talk.” The human would just not back down. If it had been three vorns ago, Ratchet would’ve found it charming.

Ratchet offlined his optics for a good fifteen klicks before finally looking at the defiant apprentice.

“If I talk, will you let me work?”

“Yes.” If Ratchet didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he saw a flash of victory in his eyes.

“Fine. Five minutes.” He glanced at his HUD. It was 7:28. “You have until 7:33.”

“What was the war like?”

“Terrible. Next question.”

“How terrible?”

“Very.” Ratchet responded, “Imagine the worst war on your planet. Now imagine it lasting for four millenia. Next question.”

7:29.

Daniel paused, looking away as his eyes searched the air for a question.

“Were you always such an asshole?” The boy finally echoed his earlier question.

Ratchet paused.

“No.” He finally said quietly. “Not always.”

“Why are you like this, then?”

Ratchet couldn’t help the momentary sneer. He did not appreciate this line of questioning.

“War changes people.” He finally answered.

7:30.

“What was he like?” Daniel asked.

Ratchet squinted, his spark starting to sink, “Who?”

“You know,” Hope tinged Daniel’s voice, “Optimus Prime.”

His spark plummeted into his abdomen. He regretted even asking.

“Do I have to answer that?”

“Yes.”

Another beat of silence. The time changed to 7:31 on Ratchet’s HUD. He had half a mind to wait the full two minutes. Anything to keep from speaking about his be- him.

Still, Daniel looked at him with those puppy eyes that humans had mastered the use of when they wanted something. Ratchet felt his resolve melt, if only slightly.

“He was…special.” The Autobot finally answered. “There was no one like him, and no one will ever be like him again.”

He hoped that Daniel did not pick up on the momentary glitch in his vocals.

“Oh, so you do have the capacity for feeling!” Daniel laughed, but the words felt like a sword through Ratchet’s spark.

Before he could come up with a blistering retort, Daniel continued.

“You know, when they finally announced the existence of…” He gestured to Ratchet, “Y’all…I was a huge fan of Optimus. I was one of those teens who always liked aliens and conspiracy theories, so to find out the pictures I saw online were real?”

The human did what Ratchet believed to be a ‘chef’s kiss’, “Incredible moment. I lauded that shit over my high school buddies for years.”

Ratchet struggled to will away the tension that had wound itself in his hydraulics systems. He bit the side of his glossa, desperately trying to use the pain to bring him back to the moment. He wanted to lash out, to use his unkind words to bring Daniel back in order. He wanted to defend his existence, and his Prime’s.

But, a thought crossed Ratchet’s neural net: how could he have known? It’s not like you’ve talked to him much. He just wants connection.

They weren’t Optimus’ words, but they carried the same gentle understanding tone of his dear conjunx. It was enough for Ratchet to release a long, slow vent as his systems relaxed. He felt his plating shift as he hunched over now. No longer alert, just…tired.

“...Ratchet?” Daniel’s voice sounded much smaller as the mech brought himself back to the land of the living, “You…okay?”

It took a moment, but Ratchet managed to look over at the small being and nod. There was a scratch in his vox as he brought his vocals back online.

“Fine.” He let go of the desk, pushing himself away. “I’m fine. I’m…going to get something to drink.”

Without another word, Ratchet left the bewildered human at the desk. He moved down one of the hallways of the small facility granted to him, heading towards storage.

The storage space was mostly used to keep energon cubes, both the large bulk inventory and the smaller consumable ones. Right now, the stores were looking a bit bare. It was almost time for another shipment to come. Quickly, he pulled up the calendar on his HUD, checking for when he would be due for a visit from his compatriots.

Usually, it was either Arcee or Bee who brought him a few orbital cycles worth of energon. While Earth still had some fairly abundant mines, he did not want the humans to get their hands on the substance. Plus, it’s not like he could go out and mine it himself. So, their locations were kept a secret and an agreement was reached that Cybertron would send him what he needed.

The calendar told him that he would be receiving a visit tomorrow. It brought an odd sense of comfort to him. Though he tried to distance himself as much as he could from Cybertron, seeing his former teammates somehow managed to lift his mood, even if it was only for a couple groons.

If Ratchet was being honest with himself, he missed them. He missed Arcee’s biting quips, Bumblebee’s cheerful attitude. To the Pits, he even missed Bulkhead’s blumbering aft.

The mech struggled to put the thoughts of his former team to the back of his neural net. He reached for the closest consumable cube and expertly opened the lid. In one fell swoop, he downed the entire thing.

The energon was lukewarm, and a bit thicker than he preferred. Yet, it still felt good as the fuel integrated into his systems and processors. While his body felt a bit recharged, his mind still remained clouded.

It annoyed Ratchet. He did not want to grieve today. In fact, he never wanted to grieve- ever. If he cried, if he howled, if he sang funeral songs, it made the loss too real. He could already feel the way his spark chamber ached. His vox tightened involuntarily, optics growing blurry.

No. He tried- Primus how he tried- to keep everything buried. Emotions did not serve him, and to deny them allowed him to focus. But focus did not come back to him.

All he could focus on was the absence. The spark wrenching, soul purging absence. Optimus had told him that he would always be with him, but where is he now?!

Ratchet had to force his vocal processors offline to keep the shriek from sounding. At some point, he had found himself sitting on the floor, arms wrapped tight around his legs, squeezing the living metal so hard it hurt. He buried his helm between his knees, begging for this to pass. He had work to do, and grieving someone was decidedly not work.

Even then, it did not leave him. The only thing that passed was the ticking seconds from the clock on the wall. He stared absently at the cubes of energon, their faint blue glow reflecting off his amoured plating.

“Ratchet?”

Daniel’s voice startled the mech out of his stupor. He shuttered his optics rapidly, turning to face the door. The small, delicate human stood in the frame, dwarfed by its size. Ratchet could say nothing as the creature approached him, placing one of its tiny hands on his massive leg.

“Are you alright? You’ve been in here for almost an hour and a half.”

Confusion colored his face as he brought his vocal processors back online. There was a small scratch- akin to a cough- as he reintegrated their processing codes.

“Has it really been that long?”

Daniel nodded. Ratchet looked away.

“Yes.” He finally said, “I’m fine.”

The mech moved to stand. Daniel quickly backed away, and Ratchet was careful not to squish him with his pedes. He stretched his struts once more, a terrible metallic groan filling the air. Ratchet couldn’t help the look of pain on his face. He really needed to oil his joints more often.

“Look- Ratchet-?” Daniel said quickly, craning his entire body up to look the Autobot in the optics, “I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t have pried. I-”

Ratchet waved a servo and bent over, offering it to the creature, “It’s fine, Daniel. C’mon, let’s get back to work.”

Carefully, gingerly, the human stepped into his palm. He gripped Ratchet’s thumb the way he always did when he was getting a lift. Carefully, Ratchet maneuvered them back to the desk and gently set the organic down.

There was a soft song playing. It was much different from the music that Bulkhead and Miko used to listen to. No raving guitars or screaming vocals, just a soft melody and quiet words.

Normally, Ratchet would’ve told Daniel to turn it off. He preferred silence. But there was something to this music that calmed the ever present hum in his protoform.

“Tem tanto que trago comigo

Foi sempre o meu porto de abrigo

E agora nada faz sentido

Perdi o meu melhor amigo

E se não for demais

Peço por sinias

Resta uma são palavra

Saudade, Saudade.

Nothing more that I can say,

Says it in a better way.”

The music continued in English, and Ratchet listened. The lyrics were haunting, the accompaniment even more so. It was evident that this was a mourning song, and it made Ratchet’s vox tighten once more.

“I’ve tried, alright

But it’s killing me inside.

Thought you’d be by my side

Always.”

Ratchet took a shuddering invent.

“What language was that?” He asked gently after the song ended.

Daniel paused and looked up at him, surprised.

“Portuguese.”

Ratchet hummed an affirmative, “Do you know Portuguese?”

Daniel shook his head, “Well…kind of. My friend Gabriel is teaching me.”

“Oh?” He asked, “Do you know what the lyrics said?”

At this point, Daniel looked like a deer in headlights. This was possibly the most they’ve spoken- ever. Ratchet couldn’t blame him. Their earlier interaction had left him on edge, but in a way that made the walls he built around himself tumble down. Maybe he was craving connection as much as Daniel was.

“Uh, yeah, let me just…pull them up.”

There was a quick tack-tack-tack as Daniel typed on his computer. Within a few moments, he had dragged a window onto the shared screens. It depicted a website, with the lyrics to the entire song. The original lyrics were on one side, with the translated ones on the other.

Ratchet quickly looked at the screen, reading the whole song. Most of it was in English, except that one verse.

“Tem tanto que trago comigo - There’s so much to what I’ve got with me

Foi sempre o meu porto de abrigo - You were always my haven

E agora nada faz sentido - And now nothing makes sense

Perdi o meu melhor amigo - I lost my best friend

E se não for demais - And if it’s not too much

Peço por sinias - I ask for signs

Resta uma são palavra - There is only one word left.

Saudade, Saudade.

Nothing more that I can say,

Says it in a better way.”

There was a heavy silence between them as Ratchet read the lyrics over and over. His optics blurred, and he didn’t even notice the small leak of coolant until he felt it dripping off his faceplate.

Ratchet brought a servo up to wipe it off, shame and embarrassment flooding his neural net. He shouldn’t be crying- especially in front of Daniel.

“Sorry,” Ratchet said softly, static lacing his words. He tried saying something else, but nothing could come out.

“It…It’s okay.” Daniel’s voice was small, choked.

Ratchet took a moment before speaking again.

“What does saudade mean?”

Daniel paused, wiping his face. Ratchet couldn’t tell if the organics eyes had betrayed it as well.

“It’s an untranslatable word.” He said after a moment, “It’s the feeling of an intense yearning and melancholic nostalgia for something or someone you love.”

“I see.”

Ratchet couldn’t find any other words to respond with. He had known for a while that Earth had hundreds of languages, and even more styles of script. However, he had never bothered to look into them.

He was, in all honesty, stunned. The complexity of the words strung together, the way saudade is a word so powerful that there is no equivalent of it in any language…it was unexpected. What was even more unexpected is the fact that a human song touched his spark.

Is this what people meant when they prattled about “the human condition”? If humans had the capacity to touch his spark so deeply, perhaps the organics were not so different from Cybertronians.

That was yet another way Optimus continued to be right. At this point, Ratchet couldn’t even argue with the logic he once refused to understand.

“Can you play it again?”

Ratchet was taken aback by his own request. It was as if his vox had betrayed his processors and spoke before he could think. But even then, Daniel didn’t say anything. There was simply the sound of a soft electric piano, and the mournful lyrics hanging in the air between them.

Ratchet shuttered his optics, clinging onto every word, every note.

Strangely enough, this time around he did not feel the need to shed tears. But, he did feel a warmth surround his spark, holding him close as he lost himself in the music. It was as if Optimus was standing next to him again, a ghost inhabiting his field and placing a reassuring servo on his shoulder as he had done so many times before.

Ratchet found himself clumsily mouthing the Portuguese lyrics he had studied so intently mere moments before. They rang true to him.

Optimus was his refuge. Optimus was his best friend. With Optimus gone, nothing made sense.

Nothing, but this song.

The final lyric sounded, and Ratchet recalled the final time he saw his Conjunx. “I will always be with you, even if you cannot see me.” Something inside him clicked in understanding.

Optimus was by his side, always. Even if he couldn’t see him, even if he couldn’t feel him, even if he couldn’t hear him. He was there.

The impact he had on Ratchet was profound. He would never forget how gentle his lover was, and how in turn, Ratchet himself gained that quality. By locking it away, he was locking away Optimus himself.

Finally, Ratchet opened his eyes. He looked at his apprentice, who was staring at him as if he had suddenly grown flesh over his frame. Ratchet didn’t expect him to understand right now, but maybe one day he would.

“Thank you, Daniel.” Ratchet said.