Chapter Text
When Orion Pax became Optimus Prime, he had not expected half the upgrades he received. The previous Primes kept much of their skill and wisdom to themselves, never revealing a thing to the public for fear of being assassinated or suffering backlash. As such when Optimus came from Primus’s core and got his first set of scans done, he was completely baffled.
“What is that?” He asked, shock evident on his face as he pointed toward a set of scans taken of his new frame. The scan showed a whole new set of organs that Optimus couldn’t see the use or activation for in his Prime programming, it was just there. It wasn’t a weapon, nor did it improve his frame in any noticeable way. It had three main parts, all of which left Optimus confused as pit.
First, a chamber of sorts just below his spark chamber but out of the way of other vital components. It was carefully packed away, with a thick layer of mesh keeping it insulated and protected from possible blunt damage from the outside. The organ was only about the size of his servo, but the Matrix gave him a vague feeling that the organ could expand to fulfill whatever purpose it had been designed for. The chamber also had its own set of transformation sequences that from what Optimus could tell when activated, would push the chamber forward so that it could be accessed with his chassis plating parted.
Odd, very odd.
The second part of the organ was a set of channels leading from his spark chamber to the new insulated chamber. They were similarly protected but small and hardly noticeable, about the size of a normal vein in his frame. They were almost completely indistinguishable from other channels if not for the fact that they connected to his spark chamber of all things and seemed to have a special lining that constantly thrummed with energy from the Matrix.
Similarly strange, but the last organ is what really threw Optimus for a loop.
Lastly, there was a new secondary tube of sorts that connected to his newly upgraded secondary purifier tanks and went all the way up to his intake. The tube appeared to also have a transformation sequence that would push it forward and out of his mouth to reveal the nozzle on the end of it. For what purpose would he need what essentially amounted to a feeding tube? One connected to his secondary purifier tank no less. Normal bots couldn’t even consume energon that was so purified in any sizable quantity without overcharging. Only sparklings could live off the stuff and actually benefit from it.
It was odd, incredibly so. But the Matrix merely hummed within him, seemingly pleased with the organ set and not at all upset about its existence.
Ratchet and the other medics in the room shrugged for the most part and squabbled amongst themselves until Optimus gave them the codes needed to dig around through old Primacy files he had never seen a need to explore considering the war effort.
They scurried about and dug through files with wild abandon until at last one medic made a noise of success and the others gathered around to see what had been uncovered. All the while Optimus sat on a medical berth, decidedly uncomfortable with the strangeness of his new frame and the fact that the medics, Ratchet included, kept giving him bewildered looks as they read whatever it was they had found.
“It does WHAT?!?” A medic piped up in mixed horror, awe, and likely a fair bit of shock. Warning bells immediately went off in Optimus’s processors. What could lead Ratchet’s team of medics to be so off put that they could be genuinely horrified? They were some of the sternest and stoic mecha he had ever met. As such watching them flounder and stare at him like he had scraplets crawling out of his audio receptors was unnerving, deeply so.
“Alright, get out! I will explain!” Ratchet shooed his cohort of medics out of the room, much to the dissatisfaction of a few who looked like they preferred to take Optimus apart rather than help him. Once all the medics were cleared out, the door was shut and Ratchet pulled up a chair to sit opposite Optimus. The Prime couldn’t help but shift ever so slightly in uncomfortableness.
“We looked over the records, and evidently that new organ set is designed to take sparks created by the Matrix, gestate them, and then nurture them afterward” Ratchet declared without even attempting to beat around the bush or douse the truth of the matter with kind words. Optimus stared at him blankly for a long moment, his mind reeling from the impossibility of what Ratchet had said.
Newsparks came from the well. Every bot, young and old knew this. Newsparks were not just… created out of thin air and gestated within a bot as the organics did with their young. They came from the Allspark, gained their frames in the well, and climbed to the surface to be raised by their elders. This was reality, this is what was true. How could he possibly do the same thing on his own just because of the Matrix?
“That cannot be. It is an impossibility” Optimus tried to retort with common sense, earning a sigh from Ratchet as the medic rubbed at his face and passed over a datapad. Optimus was skeptical but took the pad and began looking through the documentation himself. Before long he sat back and stared at images of what could only be another Prime gestating these supposed newsparks. The Prime, who looked to perhaps be Nova, had a series of pictures showing different stages of gestation.
The scans depicted newsparks merrily dancing around the Prime’s own, dozens of them. The next set showed the Newsparks having moved to the chamber part of the organ set, all of them likely having traveled using the channels his scans showed. After that, the images showed the Newparks gaining an odd pod that developed around them, tiny things that were not even as big as the tip of a digit. From that point on they grew, developed, and through the thin pod lining their small frames could be seen growing.
“It shouldn’t be possible,” Optimus remarked with yet another sigh as he looked over the last image showing all the little pods having been removed and rapidly growing in size in what looked to be an incubator. Ratchet made an agreeing sound from where he was sitting, still looking as exhausted and baffled as ever.
“And yet here we are” The medic commented dryly as Optimus passed the datapad back and contemplated reality. They sat in silence for a long moment, neither saying a thing as the truth settled. A pin could have been heard dropping amid the silence until Optimus broke it.
“Can I control when these Newsparks develop?” His question was somewhat pleading. As much as he would love to raise a Newspark of his own one day, it was not in the cards for him, not while the war raged. It would only be dangerous both for him and the potential young to have them forged without his express permission.
“From the looks of it? No. The records say that the Matrix periodically creates Newsparks seemingly without any regularity. It creates them when it sees fit” Optimus groaned at the information. This was going to be far, far harder than he anticipated. If he were reigning in a time of peace, he would be able to care for Newsparks whenever they came into being. But during the height of the war? It was simply asking for the Newsparks to extinguish.
“We will figure things out when the time comes, Optimus, and I will be with you all the way. But for now, you best focus on other things. The Newsparks have not come into being yet” Ratchet took Optimus’s servo in his own with a kind smile. Optimus returned it as best as he was able and refocused. Ratchet was right, there was no use worrying over what may or may not be. He couldn’t even be sure when the Newsparks would be created, he could only wait and move forward as he always had.
—----
For vorns, he worried over the possibility of the Matrix deciding to start creating Newsparks, and for vorns he constantly got scans done to check only to find nothing of note. As such with time and a lack of activity, he largely put away the knowledge of his additional organs and continued, fighting the good fight and leading his Autobots as he always had. Everyone who knew similarly began to forget that the possibility even hung in the air, even Ratchet in large part due to the stress of the conflict.
However this didn’t last, and during a meeting after the fall of one of their cities, Optimus felt a surge of activity from the Matrix. He immediately went still as stone as the Matrix pulsated, not hurting, merely warming him as small, innocent, and nearly unnoticeable little lives fluttered out of it to merrily circle Optimus’s spark.
His inner circle noticed and he even offhandedly sensed someone, perhaps Jazz waving a servo in front of his optics. But he did not acknowledge it as his focus was entirely within his being where the last Newsparks came from the Matrix and connected to him in a symphony of pleased waves of joy and curiosity. He tentatively reached out to the Newsparks, a little frightened at their sudden appearance and apprehensive as a whole. But as he felt for them, the dozens of little lives sent back waves upon waves of love, happiness, and excitement. That was enough for him to toss any and all thoughts of possibly removing the Newsparks by the wayside.
“Hey! Op! Anyone home?” This time he knew for certain it was Jazz as the special operations agent began incessantly tapping on his helm. Optimus reset his optics a few times, still not fully aware as lines upon lines of Prime coding activated one after the other.
Parental coding he hadn’t even known had been altered began to show itself, urging his gestation chamber to come online and to begin preparing for the newsparks by storing up resources needed to build their frames when the time came. Protective desires welled up within his very primordial code, pushing him to protect the little lives within him at all costs and to love them regardless of the circumstances. He felt he should have been frightened by the near brainwashing effects of the code, but all he felt was joy at having the honor of carrying the young within him.
More subroutines started to make their appearances, little things that would begin making his armor thicker, his frame larger, and his body better suited to store energon in case of times of strife throughout the Newspark’s gestation. Other quiet code lines also started to slowly activate, demanding he stores up on energon and find a safe location to have his young. Some even told him to fight off anyone around him and to hide away from prying optics until his young were ready to be introduced to the common populace. All the while his little ones sang their songs that only he could hear, their sparks already resonating with him in the way only a creation could bond with their maker.
“Prime! Are you alright?” Prowl, usually ever stoic, shook Optimus’s shoulders, at least as well as the smaller mech could manage. At this, Optimus finally pulled away from his new code and the little lives within him and returned to reality. He rebooted his optics several more times and had to reset his vocalizer once before he could answer the worried Autobots around him, all mere moments from carting him off to the medical bay.
“I… Primus has seen fit to bless us greatly this day” It was all Optimus could manage to say as he relished in the feelings his little ones were sending him as they fluttered about his spark in unrivaled joy. Emotions bubbled up within him unbidden and at that moment all he could feel was blessed beyond measure. How could he have ever feared the gifts the Matrix had given him? They were treasures, precious jewels, and far more valuable than even the whole of Iacon to him at that moment.
“Sir? Is something wrong?” Ultra Magnus placed a comforting servo on his shoulder, concern written all over his face as Optimus covered his optics, doing his best to not cry. Optimus didn’t answer and that seemed to be the final straw as the Prime could hear Perceptor booking it out of the room to fetch Ratchet.
“Optimus! Talk to me!” When Ratchet did arrive his first response was to shove everyone else away, standing beside Optimus where he remained seated at the head of the table. The medic threw his medical kit down and Optimus did his best to compose himself and not be overwhelmed by the glorious gifts he now carried with him.
“Old friend… please, what happened?” Ratchet took Optimus’s servos in his own as he always did, revealing Optimus’s tear-stained face, coolant still dripping down from his optics. The other mecha in the room gasped and shuffled uncomfortably, most having never seen Optimus cry ever, not even when seriously injured or grieving for his loved ones like Elita One when she fell. For him to be crying now must have been terrifying to them.
“The Matrix has activated… I can feel them, Ratchet. Every last one of them” Ratchet’s optics went wide with confusion before he must have remembered Optimus’s upgrades upon becoming Prime. It only took half a second for him to straighten his expression out and begin pulling out scanners which he rapidly used to get information on Optimus’s state. The rest of the inner circle simply stood around in bewilderment as Ratchet worked and Optimus focused on calming down.
“Do you want to keep-?”
“Yes”
The room fell into tense silence as Optimus shut down the question before it could even be fully formulated. His optics screamed of murder if anyone so much as touched his young, to which Ratchet nodded slowly and put away his things.
“Very well. With that said we best get you on a better diet” Optimus wanted to sigh, knowing that from this point on Ratchet would be on his case, but he was ultimately pleased. After a moment he stood, ended the meeting, and followed after his medic to get a few more in-depth scans to ensure his little ones would be in perfect health.
“What the FRAG was that?!” Jazz’s enthusiastic question echoed in Optimus’s audio receptors and it hit him that he had never actually told his inner circle about his new organs considering it never really had a part to play until now.
—----
Ratchet had ultimately been the one to explain his situation to Autobot High Command. It hadn’t been Optimus’s choice as at the time he had been too busy laying about feeling his little ones and getting to know them through their unique spark signatures. He managed to get some paperwork done, but he did not leave the base at all for around a week as he cemented every detail of his little ones into his processors.
Even once he was back up and moving, he was highly aware of anything potentially dangerous. He refused to so much as touch a blaster for yet another week while his newly activated Prime parental protocols calmed and worked alongside his combat protocols until they reached a happy middle of sorts.
High Command did not look at him the same after the revelation. It wasn’t a bad thing, no, not at all. They were very invested in his Newsparks and were pleased, albeit incredibly worried for him and his young, and made efforts to ease his discomforts and make work less stressful for him. Ultra Magnus took command of the army for an orbital cycle as Optimus adjusted, Prowl handled any paperwork that didn’t need to be seen by the Prime explicitly, and Jazz took to learning about how organics gestated their young before doing everything in his power to become the ‘fun uncle’ to the Newsparks when they were ready to emerge.
Perceptor, Ironhide, Ratchet, and other members of the inner circle didn’t treat Optimus all that much differently, save for taking all excuses to keep Optimus off the battlefield. It was a gesture he appreciated as it eased his parental protocols and gave him time to connect with his young and figure out how his gestation process was supposed to work. Although there were a few times when one of them would leave a suspiciously nutrient-dense energon cube on his desk or follow him around, keeping themselves between him and others protectively.
It was nice if a little over the top sometimes. His closest companions were excited, and rightly so. The well’s production of Newsparks had ground to a halt almost a vorn prior and showed no sign of forging more. So knowing that Optimus was carrying what could very well be one of the last waves of Newsparks? It was in a way, a miracle.
“Heyo bitlets!” Jazz dripped down from a vent and tapped at Optimus’s chassis with a goofy smile that didn’t fit the special operations agent.
“Uncle Jazz will be waiting to spoil you rotten when you come out! So you better emerge soon bitlets!” Optimus vented deeply in mixed amusement and exasperation as Jazz cooed at his developing young. The Newsparks were too small to understand words just yet, but they reacted to voices, often their sparks resonated with him whenever he sang to them. And since Jazz had taken every opportunity to talk to them, the little ones recognized the agent and even shifted their interest whenever he murmured little praises and well wishes to them.
“Well? How they feelin' Op?” Jazz’s visor glinted as he tapped at Optimus’s chassis yet again. The Prime wanted to roll his optics fondly, but it wouldn’t have been very mature of him and so he answered simply.
“They are perfectly fine and developing well Jazz” It wasn’t the answer Jazz wanted and Optimus knew it. The pleading look that met his statement had him clicking softly before he gave Jazz what he was looking for.
“The Newsparks recognize your voice and are intrigued” The special operations agent threw his arms up in the air with a cheer before screaming down the hall at Ironhide who had taken to being Optimus’s guard at all times.
“I FRAGGING WON! THEY RECOGNIZE ME!” Optimus’s optics widened a fraction as Jazz threw a cursing Ironhide several rude gestures that left the Prime worrying that he had missed something important.
“How could I have guessed the bitlets would actually latch onto your annoying voice!?” Ironhide screamed back, earning a devilish laugh from Jazz as the warrior handed over a sizable pile of credits. It was downright ridiculous, but seeing his Autobots so open and happy despite the war ravaging their world had him smiling.
His little ones had chosen a poor time to be sparked, but so long as he was able, he would protect them and ensure that they were loved. His precious miracles, his little star shards, his greatest blessings since becoming Prime…
—----
Of course, High Command couldn’t keep Optimus off the battlefield forever even if they wanted to. Unfortunately, he was needed and soon enough he was called off to war even while gestating his young.
He kept to the rear as much as possible, for once in his functioning actually taking care of himself and not throwing himself into battle regardless of the potential threat. His thicker plating ensured that most attacks brushed off him without inflicting any serious damage and his overall larger frame served to scare off most enemy units. Even Megatron seemed to contemplate avoiding Optimus the handful of times they were forced to clash for one reason or another.
Time passed, battles came and went, and the time for his young to emerge was nearing when he was called to a warzone where they were losing badly. Ratchet and most of his inner circle begged him not to go, but the area was vital to their efforts and held numerous resources that were required to keep the Autobots going. He was needed, regardless of whether he was carrying Newsparks or not.
“Sir, this is foolishness! They have triple changers, seekers, and a Primus-forsaken combiner! If you get hurt now-!” Ultra Magnus began only for Optimus to shake his helm sadly. He knew the risks, the Matrix knew it, and together he and the relic had come to the consensus that he was required. The wisdom of the Primes urged him on even as his young sent curiosity and mild fear to him through their bond.
“I must go, and you know this” Optimus retorted as his second in command prepared to come up with another comeback. Prowl looked incredibly displeased but ultimately in agreement with his decision while everyone else looked two seconds away from tying him down and sending someone else to the warzone instead.
“If the worst comes to worst and a choice must be made, save the Newsparks. They hold more value than the lives of a thousand Primes” Optimus issued his order with a grim expression as he turned, loaded his blaster, and stepped out to where his transport was waiting for him.
Looking back he should have listened. He should have stayed behind even if it meant they would temporarily lose control of a city. Maybe then he wouldn’t have lost his very first brood to a stab wound from his nemesis straight through his chassis, only barely missing his spark.
—----
He hardly recalled anything beyond pain as he was carted back to base while bleeding from a deep and vicious wound. He could feel his little ones calling out to him in terror and pain as well in no small part due to the blade having punctured their chamber. At least two of his Newsparks flickered out during travel and he couldn’t do anything to stop it, only weep silently and pray that the rest would survive…
“There we go, easy now Optimus” Ratchet’s voice reached him first when he came online again. The Prime groaned as his optics flickered in functionality, glaring at the light above and then shifting to Ratchet’s face. There was guilt written there, deep and all-encompassing guilt. Why?
“Stay still Sir, you took a great deal of damage… we nearly lost you” Ultra Magnus held Optimus still as he tried to move and sit up. He winced at his attempts and once he had calmed enough, reached out for his young instinctually… only, they weren’t there.
“I’m so sorry Optimus” Ratchet’s expression told Optimus everything he needed to know as he tried in vain to search for his young, his spark burning with the loss he hadn’t had time to process during his initial waking or the journey back to base. Coolant gathered in his optics before he could stop it and the Matrix pulsed in what Optimus could only assume was a degree of grief if the thing could even feel emotions at all.
“It was either you or the Newsparks. High Command elected to save you instead” Ratchet continued but it only served to make Optimus feel even worse. He had given them the order to save his young should he fall, he wanted to be angry, to hate them for their choice… but deep down he understood.
He was their Prime. If what the records said was true, he could always tend to another brood of Newsparks later down the line. His skill, knowledge, and experience were invaluable to their cause, logically it made sense for them to pick him over dozens of Newsparks who may or may not have survived being removed from him early anyway.
Even still, he cried and clutched at his patched and welded chassis, his spark weeping and reaching out for the little lives he had so deeply cherished only to find they were no longer there. Everything ached, and his body burned, but he didn’t care as he silently grieved. He had failed as a Prime, a parent, and as a living being. What parent couldn’t even protect their child? He was despicable.
“It’ll be alright Optimus… they are in a better place now” Jazz tried to comfort him while Prowl, Ultra Magnus, and Ratchet merely offered soft touches. It didn’t make him feel any better, if anything he hated himself more. He was foolish, so very foolish.
Never again. Never again would he risk his brood. Next time he would follow his instincts, he would hide away, and he would never let his brood so much as come near to the surface until he was sure they would at least no longer be damaged from him going off to war. He failed once, he would not do so again.
“We will handle the army for a while Sir, just… rest” Prowl alerted softly as he ushered everyone save for Ratchet out of the room. Once they were gone and his tears were spent, Optimus stared up hatefully at the ceiling, his servos clenched into fists. His grief faded under the weight of the Matrix and wrath reigned instead. He would make the Decepticons pay and next time… next time he would do better.