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You were so, undeniably sick of it. Where did they even find this stuff? You pondered, eyeing the rations supplied to you from Shockwave with distaste. You glanced over at the Decepticon and your body slumped miserably. He wasn’t the worst company, you hated admitting to yourself. You were originally under the supervision of Knockout, whom you verbally abused so heavily with insults that you were then forced into the charge of the reserved scientist. It occurred to you briskly that he was not the same animal.
Staring at the container, you felt a wave of nausea flutter in your stomach. You couldn’t continue eating this stuff. Yes, it kept you alive, but at what cost? The way to your heart was through your stomach, making this a far worse fate than actually being trapped on the Nemesis. You forced a bite, and in your mind you thought that eating cat litter would have been more satisfying to your senses. With haste, you forced it down, and chugged the water to rid your palette of the sensation. Glancing over at Shockwave, you realized he had moved from his work table to his computer, typing out equations you couldn’t even begin to decipher.
You studied him. It was all you could do. The way his antennae twitched when he was annoyed, or the way his optics and biolights dimmed and brightened when he worked. Although without a face, he is capable of showing his emotions just as prominently as anyone else. It amused you. If you were bored enough, sometimes you would sit there and just blankly stare at him for hours trying to read him as though he was a book. He never caught you. That, or he just didn’t care.
His back fins vexed with a shutter, the project he was working on currently stalled as he searched his workspace for a compatible tool. You were so lost in thought that the fact that he was staring back at you didn’t immediately process.
You were yanked from your trance, and blinked at him with consternation. His antennae twitched with subtlety as if asking you a question. Your gaze shifted to the food again, hoping he wouldn’t approach you.
You exhaled the breath you were holding when he directed his attention to the tool he was looking for. Lips curling at the rest of the rations, you scooted the container away from you towards the edge, before going back to the opened cage rested on the same desk. At first, Shockwave would keep you locked in there all day, but it became obvious you weren’t going anywhere, so he allowed you the privilege to roam free within your space. Grabbing the hoodie you happened to be wearing when you were captured, you threw it on over your shirt before laying down, the cloth providing some cushion against the stern metal. You knew the ship was at a high altitude, because it was absolutely freezing. Curling up on your side, you imagined you were anywhere but the stratosphere, and dozed off.
A few more days of silence, bad food, and chilling temperatures were what seemed to break you after the last few weeks on this ship. Most of the time you were already awake when it was Shockwave’s time to feed and water you, but today you decided you wanted to curl up and never move again, a wave of hard depression hitting you as you were so drained from being here, wondering when the Autobots were going to finally liberate you from this prison.
Prodding with a clawed servo, Shockwave nudged you slightly. This was the first time he had to actually stir you, and you noted how gentle he was with the act. But, you still hated him, and you chose to play dead until he moved onto something more interesting for his highly advanced brain.
“Your efforts to play Turbofox are proving awry.”
“What the fuck did you just call me?” You snarled, not thinking about the consequences of lashing out with such an attitude. He didn’t reply, just took a clawed finger and rolled you over to face him. You jumped up defensively, not even caring if he squashed you. You were done being their prisoner.
Shockwave’s optic was dimmed with annoyance, and you stared back at him dourly. It was obvious enough they needed you alive, a little attitude isn’t going to jeopardize that.
The staring contest between you two went on for a moment, but in your head it felt like hours, until he placed the food and water container down, turning to move onto other things. Growling, you ran over and shoved the food off the desk. The sound of the clanking of metal hitting the floor caused Shockwave’s antennae to jump up, before whipping around, single hand clenched.
His patience with you was on a short fuse.
“I don't want that!” You flared up. He cocked his head to the side, antennae dipping dangerously low. He approached you, ignoring the contents on the floor as he placed his hand along the edge of the desk, leaning over, crimson optic mere inches from your face.
“Is that so?” He growled, and the tone all but shook your bones as you leaped back.
Tears threatened to break from your eyes as you grew flush, the wave of emotions hitting you all at once in front of the ‘Con. You clenched your hands to your side, nails embedded into your palms, knuckles going white.
“I want real food! I want my friends! I want to go home!” You cried, ears and cheeks hot as you brought your sleeves up to catch your tears. It was a stupid thing to cry over, really, but enough to make you lose your sanity for a mere moment. The entire ordeal had been overwhelming, all you wanted was something edible to sink your teeth into, just to bring you some joy, even if it was for a minute.
Shockwave was silent, merely observing you as you all but melted into a puddle of distress on the desk before him. He did seem to back off slightly, you noted, but what you did not expect was a clawed servo to graze your back, the action made you practically jump out of your skin.
It flashed across your mind for a mere second that he was going to hurt you, and you instinctively flinched, but the pain never came. Was he petting you? The stroke from his digit only lasted long enough for you to process it. You didn’t know if you enjoyed it or loathed it. All you knew was your tears ceased and you were looking up at him through a glazed lens.
“Clarify for me,” He said with an unrecognizable softness, that same servo finding a place under your chin, holding your face up to look at him. Was this his way of shutting you up?
“A bagel sandwich,” you started swiftly, not sure if you’d have another opportunity to put your order out there again. “Freshly toasted with cream cheese and a scrambled egg in the middle.”
It was your favorite sandwich, only obtainable from a small cafe in Jasper. You knew it wasn’t going to happen, but deep down you indulged the idea that he could manage to actually achieve that kind of request. It was worth a shot.
The silence was deafening, and you stared at him waiting for some sort of response. He said nothing, merely returned his servo back to his side and sauntered back to his computer. Your mouth fell in shock. Did that conversation even happen? You exhaled hard through your nose, stomping off to your corner to sulk. You hated this ship.
But most of all, you hated Shockwave.
For the following hours, a Vehicon came in to quickly dispose of the mess you had made, while another followed to drop off some data pads to Shockwave. It wasn’t unusual for the lab to have guests every so often, but you did note that none of them seemed to acknowledge you, keeping their optics low. Back in the medical bay when you were under the charge of Knockout, Vehicon troopers made sport of harassing and bullying you. You curiously wondered why their attitudes seemed to dwindle in front of Shockwave.
For a while you had your back facing the lab, curled up on your side in a failed attempt at taking a nap. You perked your head up, only to see Shockwave organizing his equipment, holding them up to examine their condition before placing them in their specified location. Your stomach growled, and you silently cursed yourself for not eating this morning. Resting your head back down, you exhaled, your body seemed to deflate in utter defeat.
Your body twitched awake, not even aware you had dozed off again. Sitting up, you looked around to see that Shockwave was not present. You slouched, sitting your legs criss-cross while trying to get some kind of stretch in, your back aching miserably. You missed a real bed.
Sipping some water, which was disgustingly warm for your liking, you were about to prepare yourself for another nap when the lab doors hissed open, and Shockwave strolled in with something petite in his hand.
Curiously, you assumed he would overlook you as always, but instead he made his way directly towards you. You perked up at the movement, and stood up as he approached.
He said nothing, instead he placed the small foam container on the desk in front of you, and you stared at it, unable to process what was happening. Was this some sort of trick? You didn’t want to believe otherwise.
Stepping back, Shockwave’s antennae stood tall in what seemed like anticipation. Hesitantly, you reached down and picked it up, acknowledging that it had quite some weight to it. It was a food container, you recognized immediately. Could he have really done it? You wondered, and your anxiety spiked as you flipped the lip of the foam open to reveal three, pristine bagel sandwiches inside waiting for you.
“How did you-” the words were lost on your tongue, as you just looked up at him, eyes wide with shock and... Gratitude? For your very own captor? Was this what Stockholm syndrome felt like?
“Soundwave provided them, I merely put in the request.” He mentioned the communications chief, and you visibly flinched. Soundwave was, simply put, unnerving. But part of you wanted to ask just how he managed to pull that off.
“Provided them? From where?” You asked, and Shockwave merely huffed at the question, you could feel the air from his vents kiss your exposed skin. That was when you realized how close he was to you, and your surroundings seemed to engulf you. You took a step back, hoping to alleviate the anxiety bubbling in your gut.
He did not answer, as you expected. But for some reason you couldn’t break away from the sight of him. You just stared up at him, and for some reason the fact that he went out of his way to get you these sandwiches seemed to strike something deep within you. Part of you wanted to hope that he cared. But, as you can only imagine in his mind, it would be illogical for a valuable prisoner to perish from refusing to eat their meals. It didn’t go unnoticed you had lost quite a bit of weight since your arrival onto the Nemesis.
He seemed to sense the slump in your mood, and what happened next you did not expect.
Reaching out, he placed a clawed servo on your head, the rest of his hand hovering carefully beside you, and the physical contact erupted warm sentiments. Almost as if reassurance that your negative thoughts were obsolete. The only thing you could compare it to was a memory you had as a child, when your father would congratulate you on winning your soccer games. He would place his hand on your head and ruffle your hair. The feeling brought joy, love, and a feeling of being cared for. Emotions that were seemingly nonexistent to the Decepticon. Or at least, that’s what you previously assumed. You knew without a doubt there was no love in your sick relationship with Shockwave, but he seemed to show he cared about you to some odd degree.
You merely stared at him blankly, speechless as you held your bagels. Still trying to process that this wasn’t all some strange fever dream. For a second it didn’t even feel like you were his prisoner onboard a warship, miles in the sky.
Not saying anything, the scientist naturally turned to resume his work, and you were left standing there dumbfounded at the unusual, but welcome act of kindness.