Chapter Text
“And you’re sure you want to do this, Optimus? You don’t have to, you know that.”
Bumblebee was talking quietly enough that Astronomica, seated in the former cockpit of the shuttle and going over her notes, would have trouble picking up his words. She had already been there when they arrived, her own shuttle parked close to the wreck (that didn’t look any better than the last time Soundwave had seen it) Optimus still insisted was enough for him. On some level, Soundwave understood; on another, he was worried. Sure, it had been a pretty big shuttle, one of those that were divided into three parts, cockpit, passenger area and storage compartment, but the latter had disintegrated almost completely to the point where only the dividing wall to the passenger area was left, plus bare struts. It probably had been hit by something that destroyed that part of it almost entirely and if Soundwave was honest, it was sort of a miracle that the cockpit and passenger area had remained somewhat intact and that there had been no casualties. At least Optimus had never mentioned finding any unfortunate passengers and/or crew inside, suggesting the pilots had either been smart enough to immediately start descent at the first sign of danger or capable enough to crash-land the shuttle in a survivable way.
He glanced at Astronomica, completely focuses on her notes, fingers tapping away on one datapad while she was studying another. He had sent Optimus a list of mining-specific key expressions in advance, which he in turn had passed on to Astronomica. They would have to go over the questions together before they started.
That was, if they started, because Bumblebee was certainly trying to dissuade Optimus from participating in the whole endeavour.
Soundwave, located in the former passenger area, which had been emptied of its seats to make space for what little furniture Optimus possessed, could hear him perfectly. It was easy from here, even if Astronomica in the cockpit with her datapads would be unable to hear anything.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
His voice sounded urgent and Soundwave found it difficult to blame him. From the start, Bumblebee had been sceptical of their plan; at first Soundwave had thought it was because of him, because Bumblebee didn’t want him picking up on something about the Matrix, perhaps. Jazz’ reaction when he heard about the plan, though, had quickly put paid to any suspicions that Soundwave’s involvement was the issue here.
He had never considered the possibility that accessing the Matrix could be one of Optimus’ triggers. After all, he was the Prime. He had carried the Matrix for practically forever now. Why would something so familiar for him become a trigger? Moreover, why would he offer to do this, if he knew it could trigger him?
The materials from Ratchet Soundwave had read provided the answer to the first question; the other one had barely required thinking about.
Predictably, when Soundwave had tried to backtrack, to find another solution, Optimus had figuratively dug his heels in.
Just as he was doing now. Bumblebee was still going to try, though, and Soundwave could only feel grateful for that, for the care he was showing to Optimus, even if he refused to be swayed.
“I will be fine.” The deep voice held reassurance and calm certainty, the voice of a commander. “And if anything should happen after all, I am in safe hands.”
“Optimus -” Bumblebee sighed and was interrupted gently but firmly.
“Rung agreed that the kind of information we are searching for is unlikely to cause any issues.”
“Because it’s the information that’s the issue here,” Bumblebee muttered and Soundwave could see them in front of his inner optic, the small scout with crossed arms and a scowl on his face as he argued with his implacable commander. In any other situation, he would have smiled at the image.
Right now, he agreed with Bumblebee.
“It will be fine,” Optimus repeated, tone final. “And you won’t be far away either.”
Bumblebee sighed again. “Just – be careful.”
“Of course.”
Soundwave fully sympathised with the sigh coming from Bumblebee.
“We’ll be back this evening then to pick Soundwave up again.”
“Good luck.”
Steps left and Optimus re-entered the shuttle.
“Soundwave?”
He pushed off the wall as the visor retracted soundlessly. It was hard to find the right words, looking into those surprised, guileless blue optics. He knew where Optimus was coming from, why he wanted to do this.
Still.
“You’ve always been a self-sacrificing fool.”
Primus.
Soundwave wanted to smack himself. Regardless of how true that might be, that was certainly not the way to convince Optimus to think of his own well-being first!
The chuckle took him as much by surprise as his own words and he stared at Optimus for a moment before he caught himself.
“At times, you really remind me of Jazz,” Optimus said, voice soft and affectionate. “Yes, you’re probably right about that. But what am I supposed to do?”
There was no real answer to this, none Soundwave could give, in any case. If nothing else, what Optimus had proven time and again during the last four million years was that he would always put himself second, if not last.
Jazz had told Soundwave as much, too, after he contacted him in a bid to get Optimus to reconsider, once he had understood the potential repercussions. “All I’ve ever been able to do was try and be there for him when it got too much,” he had said. “Like Ratchet. Like all of us.”
He hadn’t said it out loud. Soundwave had heard it regardless, the unspoken This time, you’ll have to be the one to be there for him.
“What do you need me to do?”
The question came out softly, sounding as hesitant as he felt. He had very little experience offering this kind of support to anyone, but the materials from Ratchet all agreed that the best approach in such a situation was to ask the affected bot what they needed. To avoid presuming. That logic, at least, Soundwave could understand and apply. It hardly made accepting he had lost this particular battle easier, but – if they were going to do this, he would do what he could to ensure Optimus wouldn’t have to suffer for it.
Optimus looked away, in the direction of the long tarp hiding what was probably his berth in the rear part of the passenger area. “I rarely ever access the Matrix in company. It – can be frightening, I’ve been told.”
A small shrug. “Arcee once said it was as if my – my ‘soul’ had left my frame.”
The unexpected human word had Soundwave harking up.
“At the start, shortly after I received the Matrix -” Optimus took a deep vent before glancing at Soundwave. “It doesn’t have a will of its own, but it is to a certain extent wired into my processor. As if it were an additional memory bank, just one much more efficient than my own. During the first few battles, when I was fighting – that wasn’t me.”
Soundwave stared at him and Optimus averted his gaze even more. “Or, well, I guess I should say, it was me. Just me from – a long, long time ago. As Orion Pax, I wouldn’t have known how to fight, but my processor and the Matrix – one provided the knowledge, the other the signals. I was fighting, but I was also – not.”
Even more quietly, he said, “My ‘soul’ had left my frame.”
Entirely unbidden, a memory file opened, Megatron standing on the bridge of the Nemesis. He wasn’t doing anything, wasn’t mumbling to himself or making any erratic movements or otherwise giving any outward sign that he was – not quite there. Soundwave had been able to feel it all the same. Of course he had, how could he not feel his oldest friend – waning was the only glyph that fit –, with his abilities?
Back then, his reaction had been confusion. A little hurt, but mostly confusion. Now, it felt as if something dark was closing in on him, and the only reason he managed to stay still was that Optimus had been doing this for eons and was still here. It was obvious that other than Megatron, he had found a way to alleviate the influence of the Matrix – that he had found a way to balance on the sharp edge between losing himself and making use of the artefact he carried.
For a short moment, Soundwave fervently wished that he could tell all of Cybertron, but especially those insulting Optimus on the grid just how far he was willing to go for their sake.
“How can I help?”
Optimus glanced back at him, tried to smile. “I mostly have it under control these rotations. I just sometimes – need an anchor. Something to call me back to the here and now.”
A moment went before he turned his helm fully to Soundwave, expression half hopeful, half frightened. “I was hoping – if you don’t mind – that maybe you could – tether me.”
“Tether you?” Soundwave echoed, confused, and Optimus gave a short nod and touched his chestplates.
“By meshing fields with me.”
The logic was, as Shockwave would no doubt have said, flawless. If this worked as Optimus said – if his processor and the Matrix were so intricately linked that they could drown out the input from Optimus’ emotional co-processors, everything that came from his spark, then it made sense that the touch of another field, coming straight from another spark, would be able to tether him.
Except, of course, it was rude beyond words to mesh fields without prior permission.
And he was asking Soundwave of all bots, who was infamous for just how strong his field was, for how he could even use it to exert influence over others and extract information straight from their sparks, to mesh fields with him. To be his anchor.
With a deep vent and a hard swallow, he turned down his dampeners and allowed his field to flow out around his frame. Not very far, certainly not at full capacity; just far enough to reach Optimus and settle around him like – a cloak, maybe. Yes, that was a good image. He was going to be the invisible cloak surrounding Optimus, hiding and protecting him, keeping his spark, his “soul” here with him.
He could feel the exact moment Optimus turned down his dampeners as well, allowing his own field to flow out from his frame – not as far as Soundwave’s, only just beyond his plating. There was anxiety, a lot of it. Apprehension. Worry.
Soundwave shifted through them carefully, cataloguing each of them and assigning probable causes to each. In theory, he could go deeper, use his abilities to follow the surface emotions to the spark, where he would be able to pick up the root causes of each of them.
But he wasn’t doing this to find the best angle to break Optimus. What he was here for …
Gently, he stroked over the spikes of anxiety, soothing the high waves of worry and evening out the depressions of apprehension before letting his own field sink just a little beneath Optimus’ plating. Only a micrometre; he would never go beyond without permission and unless there was a very good reason to.
When a hand encircled his wrist, he was surprised to find that his optics had closed of their own accord.
Optimus was standing right in front of him, smiling and warm and tall and safe, and Soundwave had to reset his vocaliser before he could speak.
“Like this?”
The smile deepened. “Like this,” Optimus whispered back. “Shall we?”
Just for a moment, very quickly, Soundwave grasped his hand and squeezed it before letting go and turning to the cockpit and Astronomica, visor closing silently. “Ready – when – you are.”