The Sword
Title: The Sword
Verse: Bayverse
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Megatron; OptimusxRatchet
Word Count: 231
Warnings: Dark Themes
Summary: Sometimes, a choice must be made between duty and love.
Notes: For dragondancer515. This is a direct response to THIS. Bring tissues.
Unless I grip the sword, I cannot protect you.
A shot rang out, piercing the deadly silence. Around him, the world fell. Pieces shattered, crumbling as they descended into reality.
Yellow plating scorched and burned, its smell hanging heavy in the air.
Why?
“A noble sacrifice, but futile none the less, medic.”
The body in his arms convulsed, a violent wave rushing across those gentle features.
“Go… You must fight…”
The whisper, pained and weak, cut through his spark. The last sliver of hope, tied to an impossible reality, vanished. The war would not end here. Despite the call, it was never meant to. The truth nearly broke him.
“I’ll be fine…” he told him, yellow fingers quaking violently against his chest. “They need you…”
“I need you,” the Prime whispers. He’s waited too long for this chance.
“Go,” the medic says softly, his hand struggling feebly to stem the flow of his life-blood. “Our chance will come again… After the war.”
The same promise. Always. But the war never ends. So much time lost…
Their helms touch briefly, making their silent vow.
“Soon,” he promises, lowering the body onto the grass.
The yellow mech smiles, slow and sad through his smoldering pain.
When Optimus stands, his blades are drawn and his optics are burning.
“This ends here, Megatron.”
But it never does.
While gripping the sword, I cannot embrace you.
Verse: Bayverse
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Megatron; OptimusxRatchet
Word Count: 231
Warnings: Dark Themes
Summary: Sometimes, a choice must be made between duty and love.
Notes: For dragondancer515. This is a direct response to THIS. Bring tissues.
Unless I grip the sword, I cannot protect you.
A shot rang out, piercing the deadly silence. Around him, the world fell. Pieces shattered, crumbling as they descended into reality.
Yellow plating scorched and burned, its smell hanging heavy in the air.
Why?
“A noble sacrifice, but futile none the less, medic.”
The body in his arms convulsed, a violent wave rushing across those gentle features.
“Go… You must fight…”
The whisper, pained and weak, cut through his spark. The last sliver of hope, tied to an impossible reality, vanished. The war would not end here. Despite the call, it was never meant to. The truth nearly broke him.
“I’ll be fine…” he told him, yellow fingers quaking violently against his chest. “They need you…”
“I need you,” the Prime whispers. He’s waited too long for this chance.
“Go,” the medic says softly, his hand struggling feebly to stem the flow of his life-blood. “Our chance will come again… After the war.”
The same promise. Always. But the war never ends. So much time lost…
Their helms touch briefly, making their silent vow.
“Soon,” he promises, lowering the body onto the grass.
The yellow mech smiles, slow and sad through his smoldering pain.
When Optimus stands, his blades are drawn and his optics are burning.
“This ends here, Megatron.”
But it never does.
While gripping the sword, I cannot embrace you.