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The moments after a battle always settled into quiet. Not the content, peaceful kind of quiet, the type Megatron experienced few times as a miner and never as a warlord, but the type that rang in your audial receptors and needled achy jitters into your limbs. The kind that weighed thickly on your processors and brought unwanted memories to the surface.
Megatron, much to his chagrin, couldn’t stand it. He reminded himself of B-127 in that way. So after victories, he hosted uproarious celebrations to drown out his inner voice. After defeats, he hadn’t quite figured out what to do.
Their most recent battle with the Autobots had brought his forces close to where the Primes rested, too close for Megatron’s comfort. He tried so hard to focus on the present and the battle at hand, but nostalgic instinct found his pedes rebelling against him and approaching the spiky entrance during a brief lull.
It hadn’t been pleasant. Memories of being there with Pax, Elita, and Bee had seemed to solidify around him, and Alpha Trion’s absent body gaped like a missing digit. But the worst of all had been seeing him again.
Megatronus.
Headless, cogless, betrayed. The T-cog in his chassis pulsed at the sight, aching for the loss that could never be repaired.
The Decepticons lost the battle. And Megatron didn’t know what to do to push the quiet away.
His restless wanderings brought him to Soundwave’s quarters; the communications officer sat reviewing footage of the battle from his desk. Ever practical, ever efficient. He didn’t even look up when Megatron entered.
“Lord Megatron: has an inquiry?”
“Something like that,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “I merely heard a rumor from some of the Seekers that I wish to confirm.”
Truthfully, Megatron had heard it several orbital cycles ago. He couldn’t quite explain what led him to bring it up now.
“Elaborate,” Soundwave said. Though he hadn’t known the mech long enough to read the subtle inflections in his monotonous voice, Megatron thought he heard a hint of curiosity.
“They said you’re Megatronus’s sparkling.”
That got his attention. He nearly dropped the data pad in his servo before putting it down entirely, and his helm twisted up suddenly.
“Was that meant to be a secret?” Megatron asked, optical ridges rising slightly. Pushing himself off the wall, he moved farther into the room and sat heavily in a nearby chair.
“Negative,” Soundwave answered. “However… it has been several cycles since it was last brought up. High Guard: did not wish to discuss the Primes.”
“I suppose I understand that.”
Megatron took a deep vent. “Is it true, then? Megatronus Prime was your sire?”
“Affirmative,” Soundwave said, his voice unreadable.
The sight of the fallen Prime’s helm staring up at Megatron from Soundwave’s chassis burned. He leaned forward.
“Tell me about him.”
“I’m telling you, something was off about Sentinel’s message!” Starscream insisted. “If everything is going well, why in the pits does the High Guard need to be split up?”
“I feel that he made himself quite clear,” Shockwave said dryly. The three sat around one of the meeting rooms in the Primes’ base, organizing some files Sentinel insisted they needed for whenever they returned from their “secret” mission. Tedious work, which was why Starscream and Shockwave insisted on bickering.
“Yes, of course you’d think that.” Starscream rolled his optics. “You can’t pick up on social cues to save your life.”
“Anyone who does not say what they mean is illogical and not my responsibility.”
“But I know how a schemer thinks, and he’s up to something. What do you think, Soundwave?”
Soundwave roused himself from a near-recharge state. “Sentinel: planning a surprise party.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Starscream asked with a surprised scoff. “Didn’t realize you knew how to do that.”
“Soundwave: cannot read intentions from a message. Sentinel: could be lying or telling the truth.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, whatever,” he grumbled. “Both sides-er.”
Just as Soundwave came up with a retort, a jolt of shock crackled through his bond with Megatronus. He fell silent, stumbling up as their connection transmitted the focus of battle.
“Soundwave?” Shockwave asked.
“Megatronus Prime: ambushed,” Soundwave said, venting harder than he could ever remember. He dimly registered a feeling of panic, not from his bond (never from his sire) but from his own processing units.
Starscream shot to his pedes. “That mission was so classified, even we didn’t know where the Primes were meeting! How the frag did the Quintessons find them?!”
“Megatronus: unsure.”
Soundwave took a step forward. He wanted—no, needed—to find Megatronus. The Primes required backup, they required the High Guard, he required Soundwave to help him like he helped Soundwave all those cycles ago–
Shockwave stopped him with a servo on his shoulder. “Do not be illogical. The Primes are far out of our reach at this time; probability states that they will achieve victory with or without our help.”
Subtle, humble triumph flowed through their bond, and he felt some of the tension leave his cabling. “Shockwave: is correct. Quintesson forces: receding. Megatronus—“
Soundwave felt the impact of the floor as his leg struts gave out and somewhere off in the distance heard a scream that sounded awfully like his own.
The bond had gone silent.
“Soundwave?”
A pop-up on his HUD notified him that his vents were whirring fast enough to cause system damage. They rang too loud in his audio receptors, and as he heard Starscream’s muffled shout, black crept up the edges of his vision.
“Soundwave!”
:Sire, report status.: Soundwave sent.
No response.
:Sire, what has happened?:
A void that felt more like a missing limb than a dead connection.
:Sire!:
“Soundwave, respond! Have the Autobots hacked your processor?”
Soundwave nearly burst out of his chair, venting like he had been submerged. The high ceilings and grand decorations of the Primes’ base dissolved and resolidified into his small, sparse quarters in Kaon. Megatron stared at him with wide optics, and he didn’t need to poke at his thoughts to sense his concern.
“Apologies, Lord Megatron.”
“Not needed, now what happened to you?”
“Soundwave: got lost in a memory. A momentary lapse.”
He sat back down and turned away from the burning gaze of his superior. There was something humiliating about a mech younger than Soundwave looking at him almost like his sire used to.
“You were thinking about Megatronus, weren’t you?”
“Affirmative,” Soundwave answered. Then, for whatever reason, he kept speaking. Maybe to fulfill Megatron’s order (request) to talk about him. “Sparklings: often have a unique bond with their sires or carriers. Allows one to feel the emotions of the other. Even when the sparkling is merely a stray.”
“Then that means…”
Megatron swore softly. “You felt when he went offline, didn’t you? When Sentinel—“
“Affirmative.”
“I should not have asked.” Megatron stood, looking oversized in the cramped quarters. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”
“Unnecessary,” Soundwave found himself saying. “Megatronus: more than his final moments. Soundwave: comfortable discussing the subject further.”
“If you’re sure. I wouldn’t want one of my best soldiers out of the fight on my account,” he responded, sitting back down. He tried to keep it concealed, but Soundwave could effortlessly sense curiosity about the fallen Prime.
“Megatron: was a fan of Megatronus, correct?” Soundwave said as his vents settled into a steadier rhythm.
“Only the biggest in history,” Megatron said, a touch of humor brightening his face. A shadow snuffed it out as soon as the light had come, as though he recalled his own bitter memories.
“What did the citizens of Iacon think of him after his death?” he asked. The irony of answering Megatron’s curiosity with questions of his own wasn’t lost on him.
“That he was the strongest of the Thirteen,” he said. “The cogless passed around… stories. Of his ruthlessness against the Quintessons, his skill at leading armies.”
“Legends: only speak of his martial prowess?”
“I once heard a fringe theory that he and Solus Prime were conjuxed, but yes, mostly.”
Soundwave shook his helm. “That is a small fraction of the whole. Megatronus: contained multitudes.”
“How so?”
Soundwave began to speak, then promptly ceased. How… how would he describe his sire? Every word that came to mind seemed inadequate, unable to quite capture the depth of what Megatronus had been. So he settled for inadequacy, as foreign as it felt.
“Megatronus: took me in as a bitlet,” he said quietly. “He did not have to. Yet he insisted on caring for me. My cassettes.”
Megatron nodded gravely, giving Soundwave the strength to continue.
“Our bond: constantly full of his fretting. The war: always lingered in the back of his mind. Soundwave: once caught him wishing to end it so that he could raise his family in peace. Megatronus… Megatronus…”
“Megatronus what?” Megatron asked.
Soundwave found himself unable to speak, stopped by a tightness in his vocalizer. Instead, he opted to play a sound clip of Megatronus. One he had kept close to his spark for cycles but couldn’t bear to touch after Sentinel’s betrayal.
“You did good. You kicked their afts all the way to the Pits, and I couldn't be prouder,” rang Megatronus’s gentle baritone. Optics widening once again, Megatron leaned forward to catch the remnants of his once-hero’s voice. “...We'll get you fixed up. I promise you, Soundwave, this will never happen again.”
His sire’s love oozed tenderly from every syllable. If Soundwave shut his optics tight, he thought he could almost feel Megatronus’s massive arms still cradling him. That recording came from the battle that cost Soundwave his vocalizer; now, the physical misery he remembered had been supplanted by a different, deeper pain.
The recording shut off, leaving them with just the ghosts of the past.
“I think I understand,” Megatron said, sounding choked up.
“Soundwave: grateful to Megatron,” he responded after finding his voice again. However synthetic it was.
Megatron looked up, his expression twisted; Soundwave hadn’t seen him so vulnerable since his banishment. “In what way?”
“Sentinel: killed Megatronus,” he said. “Megatron: did what Soundwave could not. Avenged him. Killed Sentinel. Took his cog back.”
Going quiet, Megatron’s servo lingered where the cog whirred beneath his chassis. “Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if he’d be proud of me. Is that a weakness?”
“Soundwave: does not know.”
He didn’t say that his uncertainty stemmed from similar feelings. Somehow, though, he got the feeling Megatron understood that.
“You know,” Megatron said slowly, “I’m almost surprised you’re as loyal as you are. When I was banished, I couldn’t help but assume some of the High Guard would remain loyal to the Primacy.”
“Optimus Prime: a mere simulacrum of the Thirteen,” Soundwave assured. He stood, placing a servo on Megatron’s shoulder. “Soundwave: no longer a High Guard. Under no obligation to the Primacy. Soundwave: will follow where you lead. And my sire’s cog along with it.”
Standing, Megatron clasped his servo against Soundwave’s, a bittersweet smile tugging at his derma. “You’re a valuable ally, Soundwave. Thank you.”
“The battle: a momentary setback. Decepticons: will emerge superior.”
“For your sire,” Megatron said firmly.
Soundwave nodded in kind.
“For Megatronus."