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Although the leader of the Autobots didn't much care for being stranded on Earth, it couldn't be denied that it was a beautiful planet. As its star set on the horizon, the last vestiges of sunlight cast the sky in a myriad of colors, and Optimus' cerulean optics observed it all with some appreciation. In the seven years that he and his fellow Autobots had been stranded on this planet, he had been witness to many of its sunsets, each one as lovely as the last.. but he would give anything to never have to see another ever again.
He wanted to go **home**... to Cybertron. Seven years would ordinarily be a flicker of an optic in a Cybertronian, who were much longer lived than the human inhabitants of this planet, but it truly felt like an eternity since they had retreated here. It was only supposed to be for a short time, to regroup and recover before returning to continue the fight, but it didn't take long for the Autobots to realize.. they *had* no way return to Cybertron.
Optimus was haunted by thoughts of the war raging on back on his home planet, a war that was waging without his being there. The reason he and his present allies retreated was because they were facing such overwhelming odds— the Decepticons outnumbered them by a vast margin. So.. how were his Autobot forces faring since their leader seemingly up and vanished? Optimus worried about his allies who had not yet made it to Earth; he wondered where they were, if perhaps they had been stranded on another planet.. or, if he dared to entertain the thought.. if they had escaped Cybertron at all.
Looking at the Autobot leader, standing in the warm, golden glow of the setting sun, one might have never guessed what was going on inside his processor, but hidden beneath the mask of stoicism and reticence, there was a war waging within his spark— a war of guilt and self doubt that he dared not give voice to. He was the leader of the Autobots, and.. he knew that he must stay strong for his allies.
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