Driver 23

Chapter 23

Secrets

A Transformers Prime Fanfiction

     A battered white mech leaned against the wall in the darkest corner of the Autobot base. Silver optics stared off into space blankly while his hand compulsively stroked the natural stone of the wall behind him. Through his processor an image was running; a silver thread wrapping around and around him, binding him, binding him to that which he hated. His servos rose to touch the spot where the Decepticon faction symbol had been. The mark was no longer on his frame, but it was burned in his memory; what he had been, what he had done. But it was not the past, nor the future that was plaguing the mech, but the present.   
     Choices, did he have any? Of course he did a part of him argued. He could tell the Prime, tell the medic, tell June, tell Raf even; it didn't matter who he told the end result would be the same. Ah, but that was the catch. What would be the result? No one would hurt him; of that the mech was sure. But he would hurt them all. The thought of the pain in Prime's optics, those optics that looked at him with such trust, made the mech shudder convulsively. Little Raf, Driver shuttered his optics and simply refused to finish the thought. But what would be worse in the end? Seeing the looks of betrayal in their faces, or going on seeing the trust and knowing it was unearned?
     With a snarl of rare rage the mech slammed balled servos into the wall repeatedly, stopping just short of damaging the newly repaired hand. No reason to give the hard working medic yet more work to do. He observed the damage carefully and committed a small number of subroutines to analyzing the repair job he'd caused. The rest of his processor he cleared. There was only one choice; only one he could make and still keep his promise to Raf. What was it that human cleric had quoted to June when they were out?
     "The truth will set me free," Driver murmured as he squared his shoulder guards and strode towards the silo proper. "Primus give me strength."
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     The Last of the Primes heard purposeful pedfalls approaching from behind and stopped the data stream he was monitoring to turn and face their source.
     "Driver," he greeted the miner warmly.
     "Optimus Prime," the mech said formally, "I need to speak to you."
     The Autobot inclined his helm and stood there attentively. Driver felt his gaze falter and tried to regain his rapidly evaporating composure while Optimus waited.
     "Alone," the miner finally muttered.
     The Prime nodded and inclined his head towards one of the back rooms. The two mechs walked in silence; the larger patiently awaiting, the smaller feeling the tension wind in him tighter and tighter. They stopped in the training room and Driver spun to face Optimus determined to get the confession over with. The Prime watched in compassion as the miners mouth opened and paused. There was fear rising behind the silver optics; fear that quickly turned to terror. The Autobot watched as the internal battle was waged. Suddenly the miner's shoulders drooped and his optics dropped to the floor.
     "I require more materials if I am to continue refurbishing the base," he whispered weakly. "I have a list."
    "Very well, I will convey your message to Agent Fowler for requisition," the Prime replied.
     They stood there for a moment longer; Optimus patiently waiting, Driver slumped in obvious shame.
     "Driver," the Autobot said softly, "I want to thank you for everything you have done around the base."
     The smaller mech squirmed in obvious discomfort under the praise.
     "If there is anything else you need to speak to me about please always feel free to come to me at any time."
     Driver nodded and turned away. He practically fled down the corridor, away from those forgiving cerulean optics. The mech ducked into one of the back storage rooms and crouched on the floor.
     "Coward!" he hissed out through clenched dentia, digging his servos into the floor, "coward!"
      Why couldn't he just do it? There was no logical reason to keep the secret any longer, if there had ever been one in the first place. Everyone would be safer. He had to tell someone. Driver started to stand; determined to confess, but the ever present specter of fear rose from within him, millennia of conditioning at the servos of the Decepticons and he collapsed with a moan of defeat.  Please Primus, he begged silently, give me the strength to do this. Don't let me deceive them any longer.
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