"Ok... Ok." Singer triple-checked his reference material, an Autobot medic's research study on "jumpstarting" a fading spark with a stronger one. The study called for equipment that they simply didn't have access to, and had no mention of what do if both sparks were 'encased' in glass and crystal. Still, it was sound theory, and it was all they had to go on.
As still as his comatose companion, Megatron sat on the berth, spark bared to the world. Though outwardly patient, the vehicon wasn't fooled. Those optics may have been half-closed but they were watching his every move, red battle filters slid into place. Hunched over so Singer could reach, he didn't flinch in the slightest as the medic attached wires around his spark casing with clamps. It felt like he was defusing a sentient bomb, poised and waiting for the right moment to explode.
The feeling was worse when Singer moved on to Soundwave, having to work with the embodiment of violent death looming over his shoulder. Finally, he couldn't focus anymore.
"Sir? Will you hold him up for me? I n-need a better angle." If he knew it was a lie, Megatron said nothing, gathering up his delicate conjunx to lay across his lap, propped up to lean against his arm. Watching the newly-replaced black screen of his partner’s face, the warlord slowly began to relax. Also blessedly relieved, the medic finished hooking them together mere moments later, and stood there blankly a few minutes more.
There was nothing else he could physically do to help.
Megatron looked from Soundwave to the little vehicon stepping away and folding his now-shaking servos. This single medic had essentially been his personal attendant for a year, and, so far, his work had been exemplary. Hopefully his skill and dedication would hold true. "...How likely is this to work, Singer?" The red visor dimmed considerably.
“I have absolutely no idea.” At least he was honest. Megatron almost laughed. “But... it should w-work. If it doesn’t... Well, I’m going to st... stay here. I have my rrrre-ignition kit. I’ll take him off life support... s-start when you can.”
As Singer shut down and detached the power cables, Megatron ran his hand down along Soundwave’s arm until he held the spy’s thin servo in his own. He closed his optics, pressing their foreheads together. How much had Soundwave sacrificed for him? How much hurt and hate had he considered worth following him through? How far would he have gotten without this incredible mech at his back?
“Soundwave... You would do this for me without hesitation, you wouldn’t rest until I was at your side again. Let me return that favor...” His spark spun within its crystal housing, causing white-hot sparks to fly between them.
Megatron has finally found his feet again. Singer buzzes nervously at his side, ensuring that the IV’s in his sides stay where they’re meant to be as he steps over to the other large berth in the room. Soundwave’s face is frozen in surprise. It seems wrong to have it uncovered, he wouldn’t have wanted it that way... but Megatron can’t bring himself to look away.
"How dare you, Soundwave..." He goes to cup Soundwave's face, but freezes at the sight of his unnatural claws, and doesn't touch him with them. Something feels caught in his chest, and has ever since he first laid eyes on Soundwave's motionless form. He shakes his helm, digging furrows into the metal of the platform. "You run everything. My oldest and most loyal follower. When the other left it was a betrayal, symbolic... but he was never mine." The warlord leaned down, touching their crests together.
"You are. How dare you leave me, too..." What is he doing, talking to corpses. There is no point to this. Soundwave is gone. Standing back up, Megatron realizes there is oil on his conjunx's face. He wipes it off, bothered more that something is marring the surface than that he's being touched by Unicron's mark again. He turns away, nearly bumping into Singer by mistake. The vehicon wouldn't move, staring up at the warlord.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry. I had- I remember that you had announced it but... Oh, sir..." Megatron shook his helm, motioning for him to stop.
"Conjunx Endurae, but the dark energon made formal bonding impossible, not that it mattered to either of us. Besides, he still was able to give me-" His optics go wide with realization. The catching feeling in his chest. His claws come up, frantically gouging the armor in places and giving Singer a fright before he finds where Unicron moved his subspace opening. Once he finds it he's more careful, until he's finally able to get a grip on and dislodge something delicate.
He removes a glass orb, with a bit of energy dancing inside. Singer can hardly believe his readings when he scans it. "Is that... some of his-?
"Just tell me if it will be enough. Do whatever you have to! ...Please."
Soundwave replayed a recording of Knock Out whistling. Megatron had polished himself for the evening, silver glinting as the edges of his scars caught the light. He smirked at the commentary, hushing his teasing conjunx with a nuzzle to his crest. “Contact me if anything arises, Soundwave... and thank you.” The spymaster removed his mask, just long enough to lean up for a proper kiss. “Of course,” Megatron answered, replying to the question Soundwave’s telepathy had sent him. “I’ll check in, I promise.” Thin digits briefly rested over the sigil on his chest.
“Always,” he replied again. “Enjoy yourself while I’m gone.”
-Soundlessly pulls one of his feelers around his Lord to catch him in an eerie embrace for a splitsecond only before letting go again-
Almost as soon as the touch is there, it is gone. A chill runs through Megatron... but it is a familiar, welcome cold. He reaches out to touch one of the spymaster’s retreating cables and catches only air. Even so, it is soothing to know that despite how busy they are, some things never change.
Singer must have fallen into recharge at some point. With Megatron and Soundwave occupying the medbay, he’d been running check ups and minor first aid via house calls, or rather, bunk calls. In peacetime things were slow, maybe a scrape or some crunched plating from a work accident, nothing that required major surgery. Thank goodness, with his usual station “quarantined”.
All the same, it was so nice to see Lord Megatron so... adored. He was resting on a regular schedule for the first time on record, he had regular visitors that took turns laying with him as he recovered and brought him gifts. They were all Autobots, but hey, the war was over. Who was he to judge?
Shaking the static from his gaze, the vehicon noticed a change in his smaller patient. Soundwave’s color was still dim, but the grey had completely faded from his frame. His biolights had even started to shine again, his optics had closed naturally as his frame had relaxed. Rather than stiff and cold, he was limp and cycling energon on his own.
Getting up, Singer ran through Soundwave’s vital signs. Very weak... but holding. His welds were even starting to graft, and his neural net was beginning to show signs of scant activity. He was stable...
“Lord... Lord Megatron, Soundwave-!” Singer cut himself off. The former warlord was deep in recharge himself, looking peaceful for once.
Starscream: Accordingly to surveillance provided by the astonishingly accurate Soundwave..."
Soundwave: *turns away in disgust* *clearly wants no part of this brown-nosing*
Guys I think I am developing a slight crush on Soundwave, too
he's like that one guy who quietly is the one who gets all the work done at the office while everybody else is crying and screaming and slacking off and trying to orchestrate their next promotion.
and he never complains. He just does his thing, that he's the absolute best at.
you go soundwave
you are an excellent role model and quite possibly the only fully functional adult on board this party boat
