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After Shockwave’s abduction and the discovery of just how large The Institute truly was, Orion had gotten blindingly overcharged. It had seemed like a good idea in the moment, the burn of cheap, strong engex down his intake drowning out the burn in his spark where guilt and grief gnawed at him. It didn’t feel like as much of a good idea now, as he woke up to a dry tank and aching processor. And a warm frame on the berth behind him.
He shot up, spark leaping as he twisted to look- only to crash back down and shatter anew at the sight of Roller passed out next to him. Right, Roller. Roller who had refused to let him drive back to his own habsuite when they stumbled out of the bar with Chromedome and Ratchet and Shockwave’s students. Roller who had mechhandled him into the berth and held him there until he passed out.
Orion flopped back down with a groan, throwing his arm over his optics to block out the late morning light as he pulled up what memories he could from last night. Chromedome lived just off one of the 24/7 transit lines, Orion would ping him in a cycle or so to make sure he’d got home alright. Ratchet had his place, and been relatively sober besides, but with the Academy burnt down Shockwave’s students had had nowhere to go, and Roller had pulled him away before they decided what to do. Orion flicked idly through the alerts on his HUD, and cursed himself for not having gotten any of the outliers’ comm codes.
After dismissing the usual hangover alerts and the warnings from injuries sustained in his activities last night, Orion got down to his unread messages. He had the regular news pings, marked those to read later and shoved them aside. A reminder of some datawork due soon, given similar treatment. The ping from Ratchet, timestamped early this morning, he opened without hesitation.
::You bettr be asleep, but I know youll worry when you wake p so here.:: Ratchet had attached an image, and when Orion opened it he let out a soft sigh, his frame relaxing further into the berth. it was a picture, clearly snapped from Ratchet’s own HUD, of Shockwave’s students sleeping on the furniture in the living room of the little habsuite above the Dead End clinic. Everyone was safe and accounted for. Everyone but Shockwave.
His spark twisted off-axis, and he rolled out of Roller’s berth as quietly as he could. In his absence, Roller merely grunted and rolled onto his front to take up the whole recharge slab. Orion slipped out of the berthroom, and found the coolant rather easily, downing a cube for himself before pouring one for Roller and setting it aside. His friend hadn’t been quite as overcharged as him last night, but he would appreciate it. And after last night, it was the least Orion could do.
A chime drew his optics to the door, and Orion’s hand dropped reflexively to his thigh before he realized his blaster was in his subspace. He drew it out, powering it on and holding it low as he approached the door. “Who’s there?” he asked once he was near enough. If the Senate was sending thugs after him here, then... frag, it was too early and he was too hungover for tactics.
“A friend.”
Orion had the door open before his processor even fully processed the words, and his gun fell from his hand at the sight that greeted him. The mech’s frame was unfamiliar, painted a soft lilac with white-gold trimming on the edges of long, slender wings. His face was hidden by a golden visor and mirror-shined facemask, but his voice and field were unmistakable. Shockwave stepped into the habsuite, cockpit pressing against Orion’s windshield, wings flared forward to keep them out of the way of the door as it slid shut behind him.
“But they- you-” Orion staggered back a step, processor reeling as Shockwave lifted his hands to remove both the mask and visor, revealing the face Orion knew and loved. But his optics were different, the beautiful blue replaced with warm amber. Distractedly, Orion recalled Shockwave saying that lilac was quite In at the moment, sometime before his last repaint.
“Sit with me, Orion.” Shockwave gestured to Roller’s couch, seating himself on the far end and tucking his legs up the way he always did. Orion did, falling heavily onto the other end of the battered old piece of furniture. “What I’m about to tell you will be hard to believe. I am not the Shockwave of your time. I am from a little over four million mega-cycles in your future, and six million in your past.”
Orion knew his mouth was hanging open, but couldn’t quite gather his wits enough to close his mask and cover it. The tale Shockwave spun was by turns horrible and impossible. Empurata combined with surgical removal of emotional coding, a war that would kill their planet, time travel. “How?” he asked, his voice rough.
“How am I here?” Shockwave tilted his helm slightly, and Orion’s spark wrenched in its casing at the familiar action. “To the best of my understanding, when my machine failed it created a rupture in the fabric of reality. However, since there was no other universe it could connect to, it warped space-time instead and deposited me in the lead-up to the Age of Primes.” Shockwave shifted, leaning closer as his wings swayed gently behind him. Orion wished, suddenly, that he’d ever interacted with enough aerials to learn what those motions meant. “You don’t have to believe me, Orion.” Shockwave said, his field pulsing warm sincerity. “I can prove it, or Ratchet can.”
Ratchet could, yes, but getting to the clinic with Shockwave in tow would be no mean feat. “How can you prove this?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice level.
“In three mega-cycles, you will see the Shockwave of this time again.” he said, his voice smooth and familiar, field open and trusting. “You will only recognize him by his public tags. He will rebuke your attempt at rekindling what was between you, because The Institute has stripped him of his ability to feel.” Shockwave’s wings shook, and Orion ached to touch them, to smooth his palms over the glossy plating and still their trembling, to hold and comfort this mech that he knew in his spark to be the Shockwave he loved.
“Or you could hardline with me.” he found himself saying, and Shockwave jerked upright, wings flying up in clear shock.
“Orion Pax!” he gasped, pressing a hand to his cockpit. “On the couch of a mech I barely know?” a smile flashed across his face, the familiarity of it tugging at Orion’s spark. “A lifetime ago I would have said yes, but I like to think I’m more considerate now.”
Orion scooted closer, sending the command to bare the port and cable set on his wrist. “It doesn’t have to be deep.” he said, offering his arm. “Just- show me.” he had interfaced with Shockwave enough times to know if the mech who plugged into him was telling the truth about his identity or not, at the very least. If he caught something from this, Ratchet would never let him live it down.
“Alright.” Shockwave said after a moment, and they plugged into each other. The connection was immediate, and Orion’s vents hitched as he felt Shockwave’s processor brush up against his, cautious as their first time hardlining but far more familiar, now.
“Shockwave.” he gasped, and they fell together, cabled wrists caught between their chests and free arms around each other’s backs. Shockwave’s fingers dug into a seam on his back, holding him tight, and Orion tucked his face against Shockwave’s neck, spark and field roiling with secondhand emotions as Shockwave fed him snippets of memory. Flashes of war, death on a scale not seen since the War of the Primes, a moment of himself, standing shoulder to shoulder with a Megatron who wore the Autobot insignia, talking Shockwave down from something. And then the actual War of the Primes, Onyx and Megatonus, Solus and Liege Maximo, Titans.
History sped by in a blur, until a final uncompressed memory slammed into his primary processing. Himself and Chromedome returning to rendezvous with this others last night, as viewed from the rooftop of the next building over. Shockwave had followed them, last night. Watched the bar until they came out, and then waited until Ratchet started herding his students away before turning to follow Orion and Roller from the skies. The memory cut off with Shockwave settling in to wait for morning, and Orion gasped as their systems disentangled, Shockwave carefully unplugging them from each other.
“Orion?” Shockwave’s helm tilted down, elegant nasal ridge brushing against his audial, his chin against Orion’s cheek. “I never said it, when I was a senator, but I’m very glad that we met.” he tilted his helm to press a kiss to Orion’s audial, then the base of the finial which extended from it and when he spoke again his lips brushed over the sensitive plating. “I cannot offer you what I could have before, but I would love you, Orion, if you would have me.”
Orion shivered, the brush of lips against his finial and Shockwave’s low voice resonating in the sensor-rich metal sending tremors through his core. He held Shockwave tighter, pulling the mech practically into his lap. “Yes.” he whispered against Shockwave’s neck cabling. “I thought I lost you, Shockwave.”
“This time around, You won’t have to.” Shockwave swore, his field burning with the determination to make his words true.