Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He admired sire.

Sire was tall. Sire was strong. Sire was smart.

And Sire was, once again, in his place on their large balcony, sitting in front of their large telescope that pointed out to the stars. Sire grabbed a stylus, quickly scribbling down whatever fascinated him as he peered through the lenses.

Sire was murmuring, his deep voice low and heavy. It was hard to hear what he was saying, only catching the faint sounds of “gasses”, “radioactive” and “atoms”.

He was curious. What were gases? Radioactive? Atoms? He wanted to know and be equally as smart as Sire.

Sire was smart.

Quietly, he toddled towards Sire, attempting to peer over Sire’s arm to see what Sire was writing. Unfortunately, his second language hasn’t been downloaded yet, so all he saw were elegant wiggly lines drawn with such precision.

Sire was a good drawer.

“… Soundwave.” The clear, thundering sound of his sire's voice startled him, causing him to tumble and collapse on his rear. Immediately, his optics began to well up with fluids, but he wouldn’t allow it.

Sire never cried. And Sire was never clumsy.

Soundwave looks up at his sire, staring into the clear, ombre optics that peered down at him.

Sire optics were pretty.

They were the only thing that was still clear in his memory.

Sire had a strong, lean build that was completely black, with yellow and purple accents. Soundwave maps his sire's faceplate, noting the signs of aging that creased that stoic expression. Soundwave's personal favorite was the mustache that sat upon his sire's mouth, a feature that — whenever he had the chance — he enjoyed pulling at the edges that made sire make funny faces.

Soundwave wanted a mustache.

A sniffle escapes from him, and Soundwave quickly attempts to remove all signs of distress. The last thing he needed was for sire to think he needed help.

But Sire does not comment on Soundwave sniffling. Instead— “Soundwave… make sure you’re wearing your visor when you leave your berthroom.”

… ah. Right, Soundwave had to wear his visor whenever he left his berthroom.

His visor… he forgot to bring it with him.

Sire was never forgetful. And that prompted Soundwave optics to well up again.

Suddenly, Soundwave was hoisted up. He floated in the air as a pair of servos grabbed his midsection, and promptly plopped onto his sire’s lap. Soundwave felt Sire's frame rumble, a heavy sigh escaping from his vents.

“I'll let it slide. I doubt anyone will come by to visit this late.” Sire said, making sure to secure the sparkling as he wrapped his broad arms around Soundwave.

And they stay that way. Soundwave was handed a pad and stylus to scribble on, and the sparkling mimicked his sire's every move. When Sire peered through the lenses of the telescope, Soundwave waited until it was his turn. When Sire jolted something down, so did Soundwave. When Sire pouted, heavy with thought, Soundwave copied the same expression.

But Soundwave went quiet when Sire spoke, taking in the sound of his voice that was as soft as the air around them.

“… temperatures around 900 to 1200… approximately 320,000 stellar cycles away… if the council wants to colonize for oil resources… cybertronian bodies not able to withstand extreme heats…”

Soundwave agrees… to whatever Sire was saying. But Sire was the smartest being he’d ever known. So Soundwave agrees, jolting down every word that sire says. Soundwave shall be the one to mark down sire’s wisdom and share it with the future generation.

(Peeking over his creation’s shoulder, he could only map out the scribbles that littered and spewed across the pad.)

The clicks pass by, and the stars continue their slow travel to the other side of the horizon. Soundwave optics began to feel heavy, air escaping from his vents as he yawned.

But Sire never sleeps. So Soundwave must stay awake to keep Sire company.

But Sire is also warm, like his favorite, soft blanket. And Sire was safe. Sire was strong.

“… I don’t want to deal with the high priest later on in the day… tch, the council is so adamant that Unicron is real… Perhaps I’ll stop by the Hall of Records before arriving… haven’t seen Trion in quite a while— hm?” Soundwave hadn’t realized that he was starting to nod off, startling awake as he felt his sire shift. Another yawn escapes from him, Soundwave desperately attempting to shake off the sleep attempting to claim him.

But then the world shifts — Soundwave finds himself being cradled as the outside switches from the glittering starlight night to the halls of his sire's house. Sire had picked him up again, and from what Soundwave could deduce by the passing portraits of cybertronians that Soundwave had yet to meet, Sire was taking him to his room.

Sleep was suddenly becoming even harder to fight as Soundwave was gently laid onto his crib. The comforting, soft mesh of his crib lulled him to relax as his favorite blanket was pulled up just slightly below his chin.

Optics were slowly shutting down, and his body began to go into recharge mode. And nano-clicks before his optic lids closed, Soundwave saw a glimpse of his sire looking down at him.

His sire had pretty optics, which shone just like the stars that blanketed Cybertron.

He was light… burning like the bursts of fire from a star.

He was grace… moved across the endless rivers of galaxies as if he were dancing.

He was beautiful… a celestial body covered in white, threads of gold and silver. Eyes like a blue, luminous supergiant.

He will look at me, a face painted with perfection, with a smile that reverberates across space and time. He will tell me that no matter what, he will stay by my side.

He was a liar.

Chapter Text

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask, how's your dad doing in the hospital?"

He wonders if human hearing receptors, or "ears," twitched when he overheard the dialogue between Bear and Lien.

It was a peaceful Thursday afternoon in early September, with mild temperatures permeating the valley. They didn't have a lot of tourists coming in at that time of day, so he didn't have to worry about a mob packing in the museum today.

"Man, it's been a wild ride. He's OK now, you know, he's steady." Bear says, his fingers never slowing as he continues to type on the lobby computer.

"Did you guys finally know what was wrong with him?" Lien says, somewhere off to the side.

He strains his hearing as much as he can, attempting to appear unconcerned as he pushes the mop back and forth. He can't help himself. After all, he was Soundwave. He knew everything, saw everything, and heard everything.

No, that doesn't mean he enjoys hearing gossip.  It simply helps to be aware of what is going on in the world around him.

“Mm- yeah. He had a blockage in his arteries, so he had to undergo surgery. This whole time we thought it was just chest pain from stress or something minor, so we took him to the doctor. The doctor ran a scan and saw the blockage.”

Soundwave quickly scans through the web, does a quick search on the human internet, and swiftly locates the condition that matches Bear’s description.

[Atherosclerosis. Caused by plaque formation in the heart arteries, which narrows or clogs them. A frequent cardiac ailment that can progress to coronary disease, aneurysms, and other circulation problems in the future.]

Hm. Interesting…

“Was it really bad?”

“Huh… yeah. Me and my family, we’ve been taking turns in staying by his side. I think my mom and uncle are with him right now, after work, I’ll be going to the hospital to stay as well.”

“Damn, when was the last time you went to sleep?”

"Dude, I only had like an hour of sleep last night…" Bear moans, and Soundwave can almost hear the way his head slumps to the side, visualizing the black bags that form beneath human eyes when they do not receive the prescribed 7 to 9 hours of sleep.

Humans. How strange they were, but they were no stranger to a Cybertronian.

“Hey, did you hear about that party that's happening at the casino next Thursday?” Lien says his voice is affiliated with excitement.

“Party?”

“Well, it’s more of an intimate get-together, not like a party-party.”

“Wait, what’s the occasion?”

“It’s Shelly’s birthday this weekend, she booked a private room for it.”

[Shelly Jullion. Camp director and senior counselor of the Green Snail Summer Camp that takes place mid-June and ends in the last days of August.]

Once summer camp ended and the human younglings — “children”— had all returned home, Shelly had no doubt planned to have a party for those invited. Only close friends and camp counselors were most likely invited.

"Did she ask you? Wait, how come I'm only hearing about it now?" Soundwave overheard Bear stop typing.

"I heard about it from Mark. She's only inviting the camp counselors for her birthday as a sort of end-of-camp party." Lien provides information.

“Ah, I see. That makes perfect sense."

And Soundwave was correct in his assumption. Pat on the back.

“Hey, uh… Serena? You, okay?” Bear calls out from the lobby desk, his voice directed towards him. “You’ve been mopping that same spot for a while now.”

It takes him a second to realize that right now, he is Serena. And that he has, indeed, been mopping the same spot just by the entrance for a little too long.

Wow. So much for trying to act normal and most definitely not listening in on their conversation. Another pat on the back, Soundwave.

Soundwave — Serena — quickly nodded, placing the mop back into its yellow, industrial bucket as swiftly as he — she — could.

Serena Wayne. She was the name of the holoform he currently was taking the form of. A young, adult lady in her twenties who was a janitor for the Museum of the Cherokee Indian in Cherokee, North Carolina.

She is currently working an 8-hour shift, with only 4 hours remaining. She should've taken her 30-minute rest by now...

“Hey Serena, have you taken your thirty-minute break yet? You’re probably feeling tired.” Serena was moving the mop bucket to the other side of the lobby as Lien spoke.

Serena shakes her head and turns to face the young men behind the lobby desk.

Serena had never seen Bear and Lien apart from each other at work. Wherever Bear or Lien went, the other was close behind. Despite their stark differences in ethnicity, Lien, a Vietnamese man with shaggy hair, and Bear, a Cherokee man with black braided hair that just reached his shoulder blades, saw each other as friends.

So different from one another, yet they ignored it and focused on the commonalities, unlike cybertronians, who only mixed inside their factions and classes.

Humans were indeed strange.

“Yeah, you can go ahead and take your thirty Serena. I’ll tell Ms. Meli that you're on break.” Bear says, returning his attention to the computer screen and typing away.

Serena nods, gazing away as the spotlight is finally drawn away from her. She moves the mop bucket to the opposite end of the lobby, towards the entrance to the museum gift shop. The janitor's closet was tucked away in the corner.

The janitor's closet was just that: a closet. A cramped small space with a functional mop basin, shelves heaped high with spray bottles and cleaning supplies, brooms and dustpans, and stacks of toilet paper, paper towels, and trash bags. There was a hand sink near the door's entry, with a mirror over it.

Soundwave holoform pushes the bucket away and lets it roll itself to its designated corner. He turns his attention to the hand sink, wondering if he should indulge in the idea of washing his hands. After all, Serena was a holoform made up of thousands of individual nanites, all measuring the size of microbes. Nanites could shift and form, heating up to kill any invader that poses a threat. If any bacteria start affecting the nanites, it only takes Soundwave nano-clicks to fix the issue and disintegrate the problem.

… Only, Soundwave no longer had the equipment to fix that issue.

The sink was running, and Soundwave dunks Serena's hands through the water, mentally counting 20 seconds as he lathers them with hand soap.

Better to be safe than sorry.

He shuts the faucet off, and quickly the nanites get to work to shake off the excess water, drying up Serena's hands in seconds without the use of a hand towel. Soundwave brings her hands to optic — or eye — level, watching the way the nanites ripple like waves and the droplets of water disappear. So far, the nanites have performed admirably, with no evidence of malfunction.

He lowers the hands down, catching a glimpse of movement in the mirror in front of him.

Reflected before him was Serena. His human holoform.

Soundwave struggled to imagine what he might look like as a human when designing his holoform. He had already crossed out the possibility of his holoform being the same gender as him, as this would make him identifiable among the human population if they went seeking him.

If they were looking for him, they would have guessed that Soundwave would try to blend in and mingle among humans. And Soundwave didn't have much of a choice, did he? He couldn't spend all of eternity lurking in the same place, continuously observing the same objects. Even he was aware of his limitations.

As a result, it made sense for the holoform to be a femme— or female. Be as out of the ordinary as possible while still fitting in.

When he decided to become a female, Soundwave searched the human internet for a reference for Serena. And he came across several human characteristics that piqued his curiosity...

Serena was as slim as him, with long, smooth arms and legs that moved gracefully. Her skin was warm, with rich tones of sun-kissed earth and brown sugar; a canvas for the woven, exquisite tapestry of her long, jet-black cornrows cascading down her back. Dark, monolid eyes that are deep and enigmatic, with a solitary mole placed just above her left eye. Her slim and poised lips hummed with quiet confidence beneath her button nose.

Serena was reserved, but she exuded grace. She was an appropriate avatar for Soundwave. Serena was a gorgeous creature in Soundwave's optics.

Serena could be all that Soundwave couldn't be.

Serena sighed to herself as she walked out of the janitor's closet and shut the door behind her. She heads to the exit, waving at Lien and Bear as they call after her to “enjoy her break”.

The crisp air reaches her face immediately, seeping through and around her. Humidity hits her sensory nodes, alerting her to a change in weather. Looking above, the sky is gray, with clouds laden with water and ready to release onto the valley below.

When a drop of water hits her cheek, it's like a surprise kiss. It's followed by another, drops of rain flying around with the help of the howling warm wind.

She reverts her sight to the ground, catching glimpses of individuals who remain outside. She notices others extending their arms, one hand outstretched as if seeking to catch the falling raindrops as they, too, glance up to the sky.

It began to drizzle; the gloomy clouds were powerless to keep their baggage from falling into the valley. People scramble around like terrified cats, looking for cover or refuge from the onslaught.

Serena, on the other hand, does not attempt to seek shelter; after all, holoforms can't get sick from rain. Instead, she basks in it, relishing the sensation of rain on her skin.

Rain. The mountain valley had been feeling parched for a few days, so the rain was much appreciated.

The rain was cold. It felt fresh. It felt revitalizing.

And it didn't burn like Cybertron's acidic storms.

In some ways, Soundwave couldn’t help but feel like it was purifying the guilt that nestled in him.

The acid rain pours from the heavens above, sizzling the ground below his pedes. Luckily, he was protected underneath the cover of the Colosseum’s pillars, watching the rain in the open courtyard.

Soundwave vents, feeling the chilly breeze pass through and around him, sending shivers down his frame.

His frame, covered in fresh dents and scratches, was aching in dull pain. Soundwave tried not to move his injured left arm too much, wrapped in appendages to secure it from dislocating again. Other than that, Soundwave deduced that his frame was well on the road to recovery.

Suddenly, Soundwave sensed a presence approaching him, sending his body to freeze as it debated whether or not the being approaching was any danger. But that was all pushed aside when Soundwave felt a familiar EM field gently touch his, his body relaxing immediately.

Megatronus stopped next to him, and Soundwave relaxed as he took in the young gladiator's mighty presence.

They stand in silence, watching the acid rain continue to pour. But as the nano-clicks go by, Soundwave begins to notice the tension coming from Megatronus.

Soundwave turns to look at the gray mech, noting the new scars and dents covering his frame. Appendages were wrapped around his chassis, and a bandage on his youthful faceplate. And despite the injuries, Soundwave couldn’t help but admire the handsomeness of the ex-miner.

Megatronus must have sensed Soundwave staring, as he too turned to look at his silent partner.

They stare at one another, Soundwave sending his EM field to slightly comfort Megatronus' frustration, but Megatronus turns away.

Soundwave was surprised, feeling the beating of his spark begin to quicken in confusion. Why did Megatronus reject the EM field?

Again, Soundwave sent another wave of his EM field, this time gently trying to prompt Megatronus as to why he was so frustrated.

Finally, Megatronus relented, his body slacking as he allowed Soundwave’s EM field to cover him like a blanket. Megatronus speaks, low and quiet, and Soundwave listens.

“…Over numerous battles that I’ve won, I knew I was equal among my opponents.” Soundwave cocks his head, watching as Megatronus stared at the courtyard, the gladiator faceplate slightly frowning. “Over numerous opponents, it is you that can easily match me.”

“You who knows me, from frame to spark.”

Soundwave continued to look at Megatronus, but the realization hit him hard as he quickly figured out what his dearest partner was saying.

Megatronus quiets down, continuing to stare at the rain. And turns around to face Soundwave.

“I told you to not hold back. And yet…”

“You did.”

At times, I wonder if he was truly just attempting to avoid me altogether.

Wherever I followed him, he had already put distance between us. When I was in a galaxy I assumed he was in, he had already moved on to another.

I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be next to him, to stay by his side. To watch in fascination in the way he created the various forms of light that illuminated the universe.

I aspired to be like him, to create something just as equally as beautiful.

To create… How foolish.

Chapter Text

“… Oh, and speaking of drama, you won’t BELIEVE what happened to Linda. The one from marketing, the really sweet lady? Oh my gosh, well talk about being a faker, it turns out that she got caught in TRIO by her husband! … I KNOW!”

… $7.25 was an unfair payment for minimum wage employees if this is the scrap they have to deal with.

Soundwave could feel the annoyance in Serena's holoform reverberate back to his authentic frame, feeling the impatience practically simmering to a boiling point.

The customer had been going back and forth to the gift shop for the last couple of minutes, forgetting the small trinkets she wanted to bring home for her family. All while taking her precious time to gossip on the phone with an unnecessary amount of volume in her voice.

Luckily, he had Meli help Serena by ringing up other customers patiently waiting in line, so she was the only one to deal with this particular customer.

“… gosh, Dad never takes us anywhere interesting anymore. Like- he took us to the middle of NOWHERE! He goes like “Oh, we should all go get some fresh air” and “The Appalachian Mountains are so pretty and fun!”. Like, no, Dad. You know what's fun? Going to PCB! … no, Rebby, it's Panama City Beach! The spring break capital of the world? … I know it's over, but I wouldn’t mind going there for a vacation rather than going hiking!”

She was far more annoying than a certain seeker. No, scrap that, he probably toppled her in that tier.

Serena breaks her stare at the shopper and averts her gaze to Meli, a brown-skinned middle-aged woman ringing up another customer.

It was a Friday. They were short of cashiers for the gift shop, with both Jenny and Lila calling out sick. So, Serena volunteered to be a cashier and tend to museum visitors who wanted to buy any trinkets to take home.

It wasn’t too hard to figure out how to use the cash registers, really it only took a quick internet search and a couple of tutorials online to suddenly be a pro in handling money.

What Soundwave doesn’t know how to function; he will quickly learn to excel.

“… Fifty-four, Seventy-six. Is the total.” And Soundwave will quickly learn how to make Serena sound a little more human than speaking in a monotone, robotic voice.

“… Yeah, so anyways- wait, hold on a minute.” The customer places a hand on the microphone side of the phone, moving the device away from her mouth. “Um, excuse me- I’m currently talking to a friend right now, I’ll give you the money soon. I just need you to be patient, okay?”

… What is this, a care center? Did she really just talk down to Serena like she was some sort of human sparkling??

This fragging— she really did make Soundwave think of a certain seeker.

Before Soundwave could think of climbing over the counter and placing his - Serena's - hands around that woman's neck, Meli was the saving grace for the customer.

“Miss, I’m sorry that Serena interrupted your phone conversation, but a line is starting to form behind you.” Meli gestures to the people forming behind the lady, their expressions equally showing the same displeasure and annoyance towards the customer.

The customer scoffs. “And you can’t tend to them?”

Meli smiles widely, though Soundwave can see the small twitches in the corner of her mouth. “Cherokee offers other attractions and shops that are only available until certain hours, Miss. Many of the customers waiting are wanting to see what the “middle of nowhere” has to offer.”

Ah. There it was. The low but subtle jab back at the customer. Perfection.

The customer's jaw drops, obviously shocked at the statement. They recover quickly, no doubt ready to fire back before Meli interrupts them. “If you have any problem with our services, our security can escort you out.”

The lady fumes, huffing. “Why you—! I demand to see your manager!”

Meli and Serena simultaneously looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Meli was quick to recover, her lips tight as she struggled not to burst out smiling. “M-ma’am, this is a museum.”

It was interesting to see a human turn various shades of red, regardless of if it was anger or embarrassment, and to fumble in their words. Fortunately, the lady decided not to take it any further, grabbing her purse and storming off towards the exit of the museum. “I’ll write a review on this place on Yelp, you hear me!”

Serena rolled her eyes, already beginning the process of a transaction void as she set the trinkets aside to later be put back up.

Yelp. Soundwave was way too annoyed to look it up.

“It’d be some of those days.” Serena returned her attention to Meli, who was already going ahead and ringing up another customer. “Honestly, there are times that I wish I knew whoever coined the phrase “The customer is always right.” Meli shakes her head in annoyance.

Serena hums, already gesturing for the next customer to come up.

“And all those trinkets that she had in her arms, she left it behind, didn’t she?”

Soundwave hums again, nodding as the customer before them takes out their wallet from their purse.

“And I’ve been keeping an eye on her, she just kept grabbing things and then placing them elsewhere when she was no longer interested!”

Soundwave saw it too, the way the lady gushed at an item, keeping it tucked into her arms as she continued to look around before taking a second look and deciding she didn’t need it then misplacing it elsewhere.

He’ll have to remind himself during the intervals of ringing up customers to look for those items and return them to their rightful place.

Soundwave hums in agreement with Meli, waving goodbye to a customer as they happily walk away with their bought gifts.

“It's been such a busy day, it's unfortunate that Jenny and Lila called out today. But it is the start of the flu season, I have heard from John that his 14-year-old had to stay home on Thursday with type c.”

[Influenza. There were three types: Type A, influenza capable of infecting both humans and animals and the main cause of flu epidemics due to variants constantly changing. Type B is similar to Type A, but notably less severe but still harmful. Type C was far milder, with its symptoms more inclined with a common cold.]

[Regardless, with a progressive society and access to medicine, influenza must be treated with caution.]

At least humans didn’t have to be worried about the Cybonic Plague.

“Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed the tour!” Meli grins at a small family, waving goodbye as they walk away with gift bags.

Soundwave looks around, noting how suddenly empty the museum gift shop is. He must have been subconsciously multitasking, looking up influenza while ringing up customers.

The museum gift shop was, to put it simply, very homey. It was decorated with wooden shelves and tables. A large, fake tree stood in the middle of the shop, surrounded by gift trinkets and items.

“Finally~” Meli leans over the counter, slumping slightly. “That’s a large crowd.” Meli turns to look at Serena with a smile of gratitude on her face. “Glad I had you! I wouldn’t have been able to clear out all the guests in time before the next group followed.”

Soundwave mimics that smile, grabbing the trinkets he had set aside and stepping away from the counter to return the items to their respective spots.

“Thank you so much for taking the time away from your responsibilities to help me, Serena.” Soundwave turns around, facing Meli who straightens up.

Meli continues to smile at him, though there’s a hint of something in her mouth, twitching slightly. “I’ve been meaning to ask… have you ever tried grape dumplings before?”

Grape dumplings. Soundwave tried to look it up on the internet, but to his utter surprise, there were not many records of “Grape dumplings”. The most he could find was from a website called AAANativeArts, which described it as dessert.

Serena shakes her head, her monotone voice stringing words together to ask Meli, “No. What are… Grape dumplings?”

Meli grins, clapping her hands in excitement. “You mean you never heard of it? It’s a favorite among my family! Oh, you have to try it! I’m hosting a dinner with my family on Friday, so that’s why I asked. It’s going to be outside before the chill of October settles in, but there will be a campfire to huddle around!”

So an invitation to a family gathering then, just before the temperatures began dropping. Serena's lips tightened and her brows knitted with thought.

Holoforms didn’t digest food like humans, it instead disintegrated it into particles that would later be easily dispensed. The problem was if this was going to be a large family gathering, which no doubt promises helpings of food to pass around, then Soundwave wasn’t sure if the holoform was able to disintegrate large portions.

It’s not like Serena can eat or taste food to satisfy a non-existent hunger, rather it would no doubt be seen as rude to not even take a bite of a food that would have taken hours to make.

Soundwave could easily reject the invitation, form an excuse of being unavailable, and not risk pushing the holoform to its limits.

But when Soundwave looked up at Meli, noting the hopeful expression on the elder woman and the way her eyes glimmered with a mix of nervousness, he found himself unable to reject the offer.

… In Soundwave’s excuse, he was all-knowing. And he needed to know what grape dumplings were.

Serena smiles, a little curved line stretching her lips away from its intentness reflex as she nods at Meli. “Okay.”

Meli glowed, happiness washing over her like ripples of water. “Oh—! Then I’ll start making plans to include you! Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions?”

Serena shakes her head, smiling at Meli’s talkative rambling as the woman continues explaining about the gathering all while Serena goes ahead to place trinkets back on the shelves.

“Oh! Do you have anyone you want to invite? Any other relatives? Maybe a boyfriend or partner?”

Soundwave pauses, Serena's hand hovering over a shelf, holding a small carved dream box with a single turquoise stone.

Partner.

Searing blue flames, glowing like energon crystals that are only found deep in the mines below the surface of Cybertron.

They held youth, a need to know everything. It was intoxicating, a drug he wished to forever be high on.

In a moment of damp, heating air, shivers running up their frames as coolants ran down them to keep them cool, those flames hinted a sense of anxiety. A fear of harming their partner.

It was terribly cute.

“… Soundwave…” His voice was husked, heavy with strong desire. For him. 

“Promise me… you’ll never leave me…” Soundwave could only nod frantically, his nimble digits roaming the back of his partner.

“Promise me… you're mine forever.”

“Soundwave.”

“Serena?”

Soundwave jolted, the small dream box slipping from Serena's hand and clattering onto the floor with a loud “thump, thump, thump”.

He heard Meli gasp, feeling the sensation of a hand being placed by the spine of the holoform's back. Distantly, Soundwave senses a wave of frequency in his consciousness, going through his frame and back to the holoform. A bond, small but comforting, sends a feeling of certainty through a telepathic link.

: Soundwave, keep calm: Laserbeak was chirping, and absently, he could almost feel her wings patting at his chassis as gently as she could to calm him down.

Whatever just happened, his authentic frame was experiencing something after being returned to reality after recalling that… memory…

: Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come to you?: Laserbeak was getting worried, her chirping low but getting frantic.

He is quick to respond, sending pulses of relief with an equal amount of force and gentleness.

[161.13.1984] Laserbeak: Stay.

: But—!:

[161.13.1984] Soundwave: Situation under control.

[161.13.1984] Danger absent: All is Clear.

:… Okay, boss. Whatever you say.:

Soundwave exchanges the pulses of relief for pride, just as Serena returns to the world around her.

Meli was talking again, but gone was the excited chattering and replaced with a low, quiet voice. “Serena? Do you feel alright? Do you need to sit down?” Meli asks, her hand soothing Serena's back with soft rubs.

Serena nods, careful not to act rude to Meli's attempts to comfort her, and gently walks away from Meli's comforting hand. She walks towards the dropped dream box and bends down to get it.

She gets up, returning their attention to Meli, whose expression was a mix of worry and puzzlement.

“I’m… fine. No worries.” Abstractedly, his thumb traces over the marks and scratches of the dream box, running across the craved drawing of a bear on the lid. Though Serena's smile is straining, he forces it to look as reassuring as he can.

“And no. No partner.”

“The planet sings alone,

The eternal nights listen and watch,

and the angels gleam with light.”

Soundwave pets the helm on his lap, stroking every seam and crack with his blunt fingers.

“The planet sings alone,

waiting for someone to hear

it waits for an echo.”

D-16 hums, shivering in satisfaction as Soundwave strokes a brow. He opens his optics, bright blue staring at him, waiting for an appraisal. And Soundwave delivers.

[161.13.1984] Planet: waits for who?

D-16 smiles as Soundwave strokes a cheek. He scoots ever closer, rubbing a said cheek on Soundwave's abdomen.

“The Planet waits alone,

In hopes to be found again,

Like a young sparkling.”

“The Planet waits alone,

waiting for comfort to come,

wailing to be found once more.”

D-16 scoots even closer and wraps his arms around Soundwave's waist. And Soundwave complies, lowering himself to the ground next to the literate miner.

[161.13.1984] Planet: has it been found?

D-16 sighs, rubbing his thumbs in circles on Soundwave's forearm. “That, I don’t know. I stopped dreaming.”

Soundwave lowers his helm to nuzzle the forehead of D-16, his affections being returned. Distantly, he could practically hear his symbiote gagging up a storm, pretending to vomit at the sight of Soundwave and D-16 being “all gross”. He playfully pushes their bond away, telling them to mind their own business.

“But I’m glad I did. How else would I see you again?”

There were others like us. Each is an essence of the universe we were born from.

They all acknowledged me, knew me by name, knew me of my purpose.

“You are — what follows light. You are — what continues to thrive in the dark. You are — the miracles that are hard to achieve.” The eldest of us says, his presence extending past the vacuum of matter.

I was — what followed light. And light I followed. If my whole purpose revolved around him, then it's only right that I stay by his side.

“You do not need light to create — little miracle.” The second eldest says.

“You are — in which the beauty glows.” The third eldest says.

“You are — the music that sings with heavenly height.” The fourth eldest says.

And I turned to him, waiting for his response. His appraisal. His pride.

He doesn’t even look at me.

Chapter Text

“Alright everyone: 1, 2, 3 — eyes on me!”

Another day, another request. This time, Soundwave somehow got stuck helping visiting students with lunches just by the open-air market.

October was finally here, there was a settling chill that arrived at night and left the final hours of the morning. It was still noticeably warm, but one couldn’t ignore the dropping temperatures that were beginning to blanket the entire mountain valley.

Oconaluftee was still going strong, its strong currents of water still carving its path, weaving through rocks and sand, through trees and mountains. It must be feeling beautiful this afternoon — its water is so crystal clear, light piercing through to reveal the mossy floor of the river.

At any other time of day (especially during her break time) she would journey down the road from the museum and take a rest beside the river, being content to simply watch the ripples of water crashing against the banks.

But it was her day off today, and she may or may not have just agreed to say yes to Jenny in asking her if she was willing to take her place as a "field trip" assistant for visiting students from another county.

"Saturday is the only day off I've had all week, and I want to spend it with my boyfriend! We hadn't had the time to be together!" Jenny whines, practically crouching over as she is willing to get on her knees and beg for Serena.

"I was just informed at the last minute, and my boyfriend and I already made plans! I tried asking everyone, but they told me they couldn't fill me in. Please, Serena, do me a favor, please!" Jenny whimpers, her dyed blonde hair covering her dark eyes that look like they are about to burst into tears.

: You should've just said no.: Laserbeak retorted, sending the message through their telepathic link.

Yeah well, he didn't have anything else going on in his life. What was he going to say? "No, I'm busy having to stay in a barn all day doing nothing but stare at a wall."

: You do know that you can also just walk around.:

Either way, Soundwave was curious, to say the least.

[Field Trip. A journey or visit that takes place outside of a school or educational institute for students to gain firsthand knowledge on a subject that is being taught in their classrooms. This visit can be to a park, a public building, another educational institute, or in most cases, a museum.]

Just what were these human students from another county visiting Cherokee for? Serena turns to look at the gathering of small, human sparklings all huddled around their teachers and other volunteering creators at a nearby parking lot, squealing with excitement and chatter.

They were indeed very young, not even reaching youngling hood just yet. Of course, humans tend to age far quicker than a Cybertronian, so perhaps these sparklings were at the age that creators could rely on caretakers to take them on "field trips."

"Okay! Everyone, to your designated groups! Everyone should be in the group that they were assigned to!" Shelly Jullion was there, a woman somewhere in her late 50s or mid-60s if Soundwave had to guess by her graying hair. She looked beyond exhausted, her “cheerful” voice did not match the tiredness and annoyance in her face, wrinkles leaving streaks in that aging skin.

"Remember who your chaperone is! Your chaperone is wearing the same color sticker as the one you have on your shirt! Don't go wandering away from your group- 'Ey, watch it bud, I'm looking straight at you." Shelly frowned, pointing among a group of giggling sparklings.

Poor Shelly. Serena resumes her assignment, placing small cartons of milk and cold, store-bought PB&J's individually into brown paper bags with each one having a sparkling's name written on it with black marker. This was the only assignment Serena was given, just pack lunch and help with simply supervising.

Supervising. Soundwave was a professional in supervising.

He hears the sound of crunching grass, and footsteps jogging up to Serena. She turns to face the upcoming presence. Coming up to her was Jerry Reis, another field trip assistant who was also Serena’s “momentarily” coworker.

Jerry Reis was someone she hasn’t had the time to have some sort of… acquaintance? She saw Jerry every day, catching glimpses of him by the welcome center, always shouting a friendly hello and a wave of his hand when she passed by on her way to usual spot beside Oconaluftee.

Serena didn't feel the need to be uncomfortable around Jerry (and if he does end up doing something, well… it'll be him who will be crying for help), but he was always kind to her. Even giving her a bottle of soda during a particularly hot day in September (again, holoforms don't need liquid to stay hydrated, but it was the thought that counts).

So she offers him a smile, noting the beads of sweat dripping from underneath his green cap, escaping from the ends of his brown hair as he ducked into the picnic gazebo where she was packing the students lunch underneath.

Jerry Reis was around Serena’s age, though he towered her in height, her head only stopping just a few inches above his collarbone. He was lanky, with pale skin that was slightly tanned over the summer. Despite the chilly air, he wore a green, collar shirt over a pair of jean shorts that stopped just mid-thigh.

But perhaps what caught Serena's interest was his face. He sported a light-stubble, thin lips above a narrow chin, and round, brown eyes that gleamed amber in the sunlight. And the height of her attention was the long, protruding nose that curved slightly inward.

Perhaps not considered desirable among the human standards of beauty, but Soundwave couldn’t see it as ugly. To him, it was fitting, like a puzzle that completed the picture.

Jerry grins back at Serena, showing her his bright teeth. “H-hey Serena! You doing- um- are you doing okay? Need any help?” His voice asks, stuttering slightly. His voice was a pitch higher than most, but it wasn’t too bothersome.

Serena shakes her head, her lips still stretched into a smile as she grabs a small, cold-water bottle from the coolant next to her. She hands it to him, pointing to her forehead to mention the sight of sweat.

Jerry looked confused for a moment but quickly figured out what Serena was communicating. He lets out an “Oh!” of realization and gratefully accepts the water bottle. “I- Thanks! It's really hot outside today, isn't it?”

22 Celsius — 73 Fahrenheit. It was warm, but less so than the previous month. The Appalachians were commonly humid in the summer, sticking to the air that at times felt like it was impossible to vent (he was exaggerating). So it was understandable why Jerry was sweating despite the dropping temperatures.

That, and perhaps the fact that he was jogging around, helping teachers and tour guides around Cherokee with destination guidance and student activities.

Serena nods, agreeing to Jerry's comment as she resumes her packing.

The next couple of moments settle into silence, pierced occasionally by the chatters of human sparklings, the chirps of birds, and the sound of running water. Serena could still sense Jerry looking at her, listening to the sound of him chugging down the cold water down his throat.

He takes a big gulp, throwing the bottle into a nearby trashcan before clearing his throat. At first, Serena wasn’t sure if he was trying to garner her attention, not even when he let out a small cough. Nor clear his throat again. Or when he lets out a little whistle.

Finally, Jerry speaks up again. “Um-Uh… Did you know that Shelly is having a birthday party at the casino this weekend?”

Serena turns to look at him, nodding as she lets out a hum of confirmation.

“Ah, so you have heard of it! Ah- well… I know she’s only inviting camp counselors to the party, along with, you know, some of her family and friends— but I- ah- I got to ask her if…”

Soundwave was intrigued, wondering just what Jerry was trying to say to Serena. Jerry finally spits it out, with a weary smile on his face, “I was wondering if you are interested in coming to Shelly's birthday party this weekend!”

… another invitation. Serena has been getting a lot of those recently.

Serena cocks her head, looking up at him in confusion and curiosity. Jerry catches this on, quickly stuttering and filling in. “I- you’ve been a great help to us today, and since you’d be considered a volunteer, Shelly was kind enough to invite you to her party!”

Jerry continues on. “And I uh— I feel bad that Jenny dropped all of this on you at the last minute, but honestly, you took it with stride! And I thought, ‘well Serena deserves to be invited to a party!’, so I asked Shelly about it. Shelly is really grateful that you were able to help out as well, so she agreed to it!”

Ah. So a way of reciprocation.

Another gathering invitation, but this time at a casino instead of a family gathering.

[Birthday. A yearly celebration in which someone celebrates the date in which they were born in. It is usually celebrated among family and peers, sometimes consisting of a cake to feast on.]

Soundwave had a feeling that the celebration wasn’t going to be considerably large, but if cake is going to be served with sides of drinks…

… Serena could definitely handle a piece of cake.

“S-so, what do you say?” Serena focuses her attention back to Jerry, who is awaiting her answer. With a smile, Serena nods.

Jerry's face lights up, happy with Serena's response. “Great! Do- do you have a ride to take you to the casino? I- uh- I can drive!”

Serena pauses, pondering.

Holoforms were able to traverse away from their hosts body, regardless of how far away as long as the connection between the holoform and the host wasn’t cut. However, Holoforms can only materialize just a couple of feet away from their host.

From his barn to the museum, walking takes about half an hour to get to work on time. So to get to the casino that is supposedly just an hour and half more…

Serena looks up at Jerry again, the man waiting for her response with a worried face. “I- I mean, of course, if you want me to pick you up— I can pick you up at the museum! And-and drop you there after the party! … I-I - wait, I just realized— I know you and I haven’t actually got to know each other— Maybe Jenny can take you! Oh— but— she’s also going with Angela, Tito and Lia… and I think Lani? And Jenny also rides this really small car— “Jerry trails off, looking away as a worried frown settles on his face as he ponders.

… Again, it'll be Jerry who’ll be crying if he tries to pull anything. (Note from Author: Never accept a ride from someone you barely know, regardless of the good intention!)

Serena gently waves her hand, catching Jerry attention again. “Yes. Please… pick me up? At the museum?” Serena asks, Jerry's face lightening up again at Serena’s response.

“Y-yeah! Yes! I’ll pick you up at… the party starts at 7pm so I’ll pick you up at… 6:30?”

6 P.M., 1800. That was a reasonable time. Serena smiles, nodding her head in agreement.

“I- Great! Yes, I’ll pick you up at 6:30, at the museum, okay? Yeah— yeah. Uhm…” Jerry trails off again, placing a hand on the back of his neck as his eyes look away from Serena.

Even with the afternoon sunlight peeking from the roof above them and the rays hitting on Jerry's face, Serena could notice the hint of redness spreading at Jerry’s face. It wasn’t because of the sun heating his skin…

“I’ll see you then?” Jerry looks back at her, a weary smile on his face, a shine of… something in his eyes.

Blue optics. They didn’t burn like the blue embers he fell in love with, but they shined in a way he couldn’t explain.

They were a window to his spark, to his soul. Though they conveyed innocence and naivety…

For a moment, it was as if he was looking at his sire’s optics. They were old, ancient… held wisdom far beyond then what he could comprehend.

“Hello. It's an honor to meet you, Soundwave.”

“My name is Orion Pax.”

“Jerry!”

Both Serena and Jerry jumped, turning around to see Shelly motioning Jerry to come to her.

“I’ll be right there!” Jerry calls out, quickly turning back to Serena as he begins to walk away.

“Right! 6:30! See you there?” Jerry says, fidgeting in his place as he waits for Serena's response.

Serena doesn’t waste his time, grinning at him with a smile. “Yes. 6:30. See you there.” Serena replies, Jerry’s face lightning once more before he goes off on a run, a skip in his steps.

“Soundwave…”

Soundwave was startled, not realizing the archivist was standing to his left. How did he get so close to Soundwave? Of course, he'd noticed he was distracted, watching from a distance while Megatron yelled at a gathering beneath his podium.

As the crowd cried out for encouragement, he gleamed among the light, an arm extended towards them. To the masses, he was a being that would destroy their life of misery and oppression. He was their salvation, according to them.

Soundwave moves his gaze to Orion, the archivist looming over him. He was only a few feet taller than him and not nearly as hefty as Megatron, yet still able to topple Soundwave.

The bright blue optics stared at him, undertones of trepidation floating in them. Soundwave cocked his head in response. What was it that was bothering him?

"I was wondering... when Megatron finishes his speech, perhaps we--I mean, just the two of us--could--wait!" I mean-" Now Orion was stuttering, his faceplate lighting up in a faint blue tone over his gray faceplate.

Soundwave cocked his head, watching Orion struggle over his words. What was it that Orion was about to say that had the archivist so worried?

The cheering of the crowd resonates behind them, practically creating a shockwave. The world around them rumbled to their delight, kin to a gladiatorial arena. Cheers, laughter, missing limbs, limp bodies, energon poured...

“IwaswonderingifyouwantedtojoinmebacktoIacontovisittheHallofRecords!” Soundwave returned to reality as Orion finally vomited out what he had been struggling to utter, his faceplate still blue. Soundwave cocked his head once again, recalling what Orion had just said to him.

‘I was wondering if you wanted to join me back to Iacon to visit the Hall of Records.’

The Hall of Records. Iacon.

Iacon.

Soundwave turns back to the noise behind him, watching as Megatron continues on and on, the mass cheering and their excitement increasing with every sentence he speaks.

Iacon…

“Uh, if you’re able to, of course.” Soundwave switches back to Orion, the young archivist fidgeting in place as he stares at Soundwave with uneasiness.

Orion was definitely socially awkward.

For a moment, Soundwave couldn’t help it. His shoulders shook at his inner thought, and instinctually a servo flew up to his visor as Soundwave almost jumped at the sound that escaped from his voicebox.

The archivist straightening as he blinked at Soundwave had to have surprised Orion as well. Soundwave rapidly lowers his servo. There were a few moments of stillness between the two, merely staring at each other.

With a slight smile, Orion eventually ended their stare-down. "Was that a... yes?"

One time, I decided to create something.

It was a combination of elements, of gases and solids. I patted and patched, tweaked and picked, stretched and squashed.

It was small, it was unshaped. It looked dry. I was frustrated, wondering why my creation wasn’t as beautiful as his.

I stomped. I whined. I cried. Tears of my essence fell from my eyes.

Those tears dripped into the ball of dirt… and it blossomed.

It moved, it grew, it was breathing gas and converting it into something new.

It was alive.

It wasn’t as beautiful as his, but my eyes opened.

To me, it was beautiful.

I presented it to my eldest, and they were awed. In marvel. In elation.

I showed it to him. My eyes glistened with hope. In happiness.

He said nothing.

Chapter Text

ding-ding!

The small little bell just beside the glass door welcomed him in, announcing his – her - presence as he entered the shop.

Immediately, Serena's gaze was drawn to the hundreds of dangling dreamcatchers on the ceiling, all varying colors, and sizes. Some are decorated in beads, others in colorful feathers. And they danced in the air that seeped in through the opened entrance, sparkling in the morning light, hypnotizing any visitor who entered the gift shop.

Soundwave pauses to admire them, taking in the dazzling light the dreamcatchers beamed in the quiet morning.

It was practically dead at the welcome center this Sunday, as Cherokee finally entered its last week of September, and the number of tourists decreased as the mountains began to cool and enter their winter chill. The stores situated within the center have been opening as of late due to the decrease in visitors, with the exception of a few gift shops that are open to early risers who wish to explore Cherokee before rush hour.

But Soundwave didn’t mind the stillness of the quiet; instead, he took in the sound of running water from the nearby water playground that was voided of squealing children, and the sound of Oconaluftee from the distance, the rustling of trees, and the singing of morning songbirds as they greeted their woodland neighbors.

Any other day, Soundwave would have relished the warm morning, perhaps even intending to leave his barn for a little while to bask in the sun's warmth beside Laserbeak. Unfortunately, he had an errand that required Serena to meet the owner of Nature’s Magic - a small gift shop that, honestly, was almost identical to any of the gift shops in Cherokee.

He navigates Serena to walk around the small shop, eyeing the porcelain décor, carved wood and stone figures, woven baskets and plates on the shelves. She takes in the numerous trinkets and gifts that are stacked on the wall for visitors to buy. Lenticular art was displayed proudly on the walls, displaying images of wolves, eagles, bears, and Indigenous women and men dressed in feathered headdresses, necklaces, and earrings and clothed with intricately patterned leather.

Serena comes to a halt, however, when Soundwave notices a beaming light glisten when the morning light shifts towards the wide windows near the entrance.

A geode, resting on top of a table placed next to a window and surrounded by glistening minerals and stones, had been split into two – revealing luminescent purple crystals inside, shimmering in the morning light.

Immediately Soundwave is drawn to it, making Serena begin walking over towards display. She observes it, moving her head from side to side as her view of perspective changes the lighting of the crystals to glimmer like stars. She raises a hand to the geode, her fingertips lightly skimming on top of the rugged inner surface – a lighting feeling echoing at the sensation of the cold temperature of the crystals that rock back to his authentic form.

Cold to the touch, glimmering in the light like stars… The sound of ticks and tacks from the miners’ pickaxes… energon crystal so near to taste, yet so far to savor…

“Good morning!”

One thing that Soundwave learned to dislike about humans was the lack of an EM field, which he could have immediately sensed if someone was approaching him. Unfortunately for him, humans did not have an EM field that was associated with nearly all cybertronians – nor could the holoform sense another presence approaching her as well.

Serena jumped at the appearance of a middle-aged, Asian woman standing next to her, in her personal bubble as they eyed at her with a friendly smile. “Very pretty, right!” The woman speaks to her with a high-pitched, cheery voice as their smile widens.

Serena quickly takes a step back, her eyes rapidly looking up and down at the woman in front of her. Just… where did she come from?

“Saw you looking at our prized possession!” The woman raises a hand, gesturing at the split geode. “It's very pretty, isn’t it? Unfortunately, it has been collecting dust for a while, poor thing.”

The woman looked like she was around her fifties, maybe close to her sixties. Dyed, red hair cut to a bob, wearing a red cardigan over a completely black outfit. Around her neck, a golden necklace dangled in the morning light.

There wasn’t anybody else around inside the gift shop. They were the only ones currently present. Was she the owner?

“But fortunately! It can be yours for only $99! I’ll even give you a 25% discount, yes?”

They were undoubtedly the owners. And, evidently, they assumed he was a customer who had become enamored with the dazzling geode. He was, but he had no desire to buy anything at the moment. He also lacked the necessary funds at the time.

… hey, he didn’t have any use for human currency.

“If you buy it today, then it can be yours for only $74! Great price, yes?”

Actually- That doesn’t sound too bad, considering the size of the geode.

What- no wait- what was he here for? Oh, right.

"Stop." Serena extends her hand in a slight gesture to ask the woman to stop speaking. Fortunately, she did as Serena lifted her other hand to hand her an envelope.

The woman lifts an eyebrow, looking at Serena and turning her gaze downward to the envelope. She takes it from Serena's hand, analyzing it as she flips it back and forth.

"… Did Chevjo send you?" The woman asks, eyeing the bad, chicken scratch writing on the back of the envelope. Serena nods, and the woman interprets her reaction as permission to open the envelope.

The woman takes her time to read the paper, using the morning light to make the letters more accessible, as Serena patiently waits for her to finish.

 “Another part-time job, huh?” Interestingly, Soundwave noticed that the woman's speech had shifted away from the overly cheery, customer-facing employee voice. No doubt a persona to entice customers to purchase her items. "Can you tell me where you work?" The woman inquires, raising her head from the paper to look at Serena.

“I work as a janitor. In a museum. In addition, I work as a cashier. For the Museum.” He’s attempted to make Serena sound more human, to put her sentences together to form a coherent statement, but it felt like it was a malfunction that was occurring with the nanites until Laserbeak had pointed out: :That’s just how you talk. It’s a habit of yours that you need to break.:

The woman glances at her with perplexity. “Do you speak like that, honey? If you find it difficult to speak, I can offer you a notepad.” Serena sighs and shakes her head. “Please forgive me. It is-” Well, he can’t say it’s a habit, can he now? “-a medical condition.”

The lady hums, nodding her head slowly as she re-examines Serena again. "Is that why you’re looking for a new job? Do you have health insurance?”

… Well… Seeing how it took an entire kidney, arm, and leg to get health aid, Soundwave guesses it's best to just… die…

In other words, it reminded him too much of Cybertron’s economy – where the higher caste were able to meet their demands, while the lower caste had to sacrifice something valuable to survive.

What a small universe, both humans and cybertronians, lived in.

Serena shakes her head. "I see." As she glances at Serena, the woman ponders, purses her lips, and narrows her eyes. Her arms are crossed across her chest, her left hand clasping the corner of Chevjo's letter, and her black eyes travel up and down as she observes Serena once more.

Finally, the woman sighed and folded the letter. "I don't quite see it as a bad idea to hire you, but the truth is that this shop is enough to manage with only two employees, being me and my partner Maria."

Soundwave saw the truth in her words: the gift shop was relatively tiny, surrounded by similarly competing shops that sold the same gifts and trinkets to tourists.

"But in this case - and not because I owe Chevjo and his family - I'm willing to hire you as a janitor." The owner places both hands on their hips.

"Are you available for the noon or night shifts?" If that's the case, I can let you tidy up after we close. Does that work for you? The shopkeeper asked. Serena replied quietly, "Yes," leading the woman's face to break into a half-genuine smile.

"Great! It is a pleasure to meet you, Serena. I am Yueting Lee, and welcome to Nature’s Magic.”

“Tell me, do you know what stars are?”

The small area of the cave is illuminated slightly before going black due to sparks from the hitting of a pickaxe. The grunting of mechs reverberates down the tiny corridors, while minecarts pass by with clicks and clanks.

Soundwave cocks his head, amusement coursing through his electromagnetic field. The miner sighs as he delivers another stroke to the rocks, sparks flying from the force of his pick. “I’ve heard of them through the moderators’ passing conversations. They describe a meteor shower as “falling stars.” For starters, I have no idea what a meteor shower or stars looks like.”

“But then I ran into a mech who claimed to have seen them. They sneaked out of the pits and onto the wide plains between Kaon and Crystal City.”

“And… that he couldn’t put it into words. The best he could make out was how similar they resembled energon crystals stuck in tall grotto ceilings, and how he truly believed that all of Cybertron was inside a gigantic cave of some type.” The miner comes to a halt, coolant, and mist concealing his gray figure among the dust and muck.

Soundwave wonders how old the miner was based on the way he spoke, a voice that sparkled with sheer wonder.

A sliver of light shines through the crevices in the rocks, its rays piercing the blackness of the cave. Soundwave's servo hovers over, wiping away the dirt grains to expose a bright blue energon crystal.

[161.13.1984] Soundwave: Seen stars

“Are they really as the mech described them? Like energon crystals stuck in tall grotto ceilings?” The miner looks at him, his dazzling blue optics gleaming like the incandescent energon crystal that Soundwave discovered.

Even the miners’ optics reflected astonishment like a sparkling. And Soundwave…

His spark stings. This miner wasn’t as youthful as Soundwave, but he wasn’t much older. Despite this, he has never seen stars.

This was why he was here, in the muck and filth of energon crystal mines deep beneath the planet’s surface. Without a doubt, no one working here had ever seen stars. Their existence revolved around caves and energon crystals, as well as callous moderators who slouched back and drank to their sparks’ desires.

Soundwave maneuvers a servo towards the gray mech, brushing their cheek with his lithe digits just below the searing blue flames of their perplexed optics.

[161.13.1984] Stars: Similar

[161.13.1984] Stars: Shine like D-16 optics

[161.13.1984] D-16: Optics burn like stars

[161.13.1984] Soundwave: Promises

[161.13.1984] D-16: Will see stars

D-16 raises a servo to cup Soundwaves. “Promise?”

Promise.

He came up to me. “Brother, let us create something beautiful.”

His voice was that of bells, a light ring of joy and magic. His excitement was addicting, radiating from his body and into the vacuum of space.

Something… beautiful? Like what?

“Let’s create a world, where we are its gods.”

Gods?

“Let’s create a world, a combination of light and ____. “

A combination of our essences?

“Let’s create a world, you and me, together.”

Together.

That is all I ever wanted.

For him  and  I to  be together.

…. Yes.

Chapter Text

It’s around noon when tourism is at its peak. And despite the decline of visitors as Cherokee approaches October, the streets are packed like cans of energy leeches.

And despite being the end of September, the sun is blazing with heat, visitors fanning their hands onto their faces and neck to fan away the absurd amount of coolants – “sweat” – that dripped from their foreheads.

Fortunately, Soundwave holoform spared the physiological reaction that humans have to extreme heat. But he stayed by the shade, provided by the various store's patios that lined both sides of the road, as he maneuvered through the bustling crowd.

Serena finally arrives at her destination, just across the street from the Bear Log Gift Emporium. It was just as similar to the rest of the gift shops in Cherokee, but what set this store apart was the odd, Indigenous mannequin placed by the entrance of the gift shop.

It had seen better days, its plastic skin – once a shiny beige leather – was peeling off to reveal the Polystyrene material underneath. Its clothes were tacky, equally worn out, and missing a couple of beads and feathers. But the most interesting feature that Soundwave would always focus on when Serena passed by the mannequin was its missing left eye, no doubt once painted on before it flaked off after a certain amount of time.

The mannequin was in such terrible condition, no doubt having been exposed to harsh weather when it was placed outside, yet nobody seemed to have bothered to take it down. Soundwave could only surmise that the owner did not have the spark – “heart” - to remove it because it had grown to be something of a monument.

Serena gazes at it, wondering just how long it would take before the mannequin finally collapses when the legs deteriorate—when the sound of a booming drum captures Soundwave’s attention.

He turns Serena's gaze to the left of the gift shop, where a small stage was placed just underneath a large, Tulip poplar tree, providing it shade despite the roof built on top.

And there, on the steps of the stage was Chevjo, Meli’s husband.

He was dressed casually, with a brilliant blue headdress placed on his head and wearing worn-out, beaded moccasins as he greeted passing tourists with a high, southern tone.

Despite the weathered mannequin just down the street, Chevjo illuminated the area with a lively spirit and a magnetizing voice that was quick to attract a small crowd, interested to hear what he had to say as he welcomed them inside the open stage.

“… Now have anyone been to a Powwow?” Chevjo asks, gazing around at the surrounding tourists who all shook their heads. “If you guys are around from July 2^nd to the 4^th, we’re going to have our powwow right up the road – and it’s the biggest one on the East Coast!”

[Powwow: a celebratory gathering where diverse indigenous nations for the opportunity to dance, sing, socialize, and honor their ancestry traditions and culture.]

[The 4^th of July Powwow in Cherokee in North Carolina attracts a wide following with a diverse experience.]

“So if you haven’t been to a powwow, I recommend going! You’ll have lots of fun!” Chevjo exclaimed excitedly, his headdress swaying in the wind as he moved around the small circle of his gatherers, juggling around his stripped hoops in one hand as they rattled in his hands like maracas.

Unfortunately, Soundwave missed this year’s powwow, but that did not mean he wasn’t interested in experiencing the celebratory gathering. With how little information there is on indigenous cultures, the urge to know and record tempted Soundwave to visit next year’s powwow.

Serena observes in silence at the other side of the street, leaning her body on a pole of a store portico as she watches Chevjo beginning to demonstrate a simple show dance to his surrounding crowd.

He swayed through the air, guiding the hoops through his hands and arms to display a dynamic shape that – if Soundwave could take a guess – mimicked the wings of a bird soaring in the blue skies of the Appalachian Mountains. However, Soundwave noted something quite… stiffening in Chevjo’s dance.

Though he flowed through the air like that of a golden eagle, Chevjo was holding restrained in his movements – small steps in his pace, the control in the flicks of his wrist even as the hoops flung freely in the wind.

Serena leaned in, her focus pierced into the movement of Chevjo’s legs as he continued to demonstrate to his small gathering, equally absorbed in his movements. He moved with a skill that no doubt took years to master, with a speed and balance that was hard to achieve that would make any Cybertronian warrior envy to possess.

A skill that Soundwave himself was quite familiar with, that allowed him to avoid the incoming slashes of swords and axes and the piercing of spearheads. A skill that allowed Soundwave to survive long enough to send an equal amount of strength in his attacks when his opponents struggled to even lay a scratch in his armor as he moved – no, danced – with the same speed and balance in Chevjo’s dance so he didn’t end up flinging around in the gladiator area.

Energon rushing through his pipes as it pounded like a Cherokee water drum, dripping from his lips as he tasted the heat it produced…

Where Chevjo’s dance was a dance of beauty, Soundwave’s dance was a dance of death. So intoxicating, to feel the wetness of his opponent’s energon splattering onto the ground and on his armor…

He was a formidable gladiator in the bloodshed of the arena, feared by many who were forced to battle him.

But not everyone feared him.

The audience's clamor is thunderous. The noise that resonates down to the Colosseum's ground causes his armor plates to vibrate. The audience applauds when he walks in, and chants pound up into the air as they call his name.

But he's not listening to his "adoring fans." Nor the upper caste that had snuck into the audience in much more opulent seats behind planes of windows. Or the female announcer high on a podium announcing his arrival.

He focuses on his opponent, a gray mech with red highlights in the middle of the arena. Fiery blue flames stare at him, compelling him to straighten as he advances.

Soundwave marches ahead, his dual swords clenched.

No matter the outcome, he will come out victorious.

"NOW WHO'S READY TO RUMBLE!" The female announcer yells over the speakers, a growl escaping her lips as she agitates the listeners. The people express their joy even louder, stomping and clapping as though trying to cause a tremor.

No matter who he must fight, he will come out alive.

"GLADIATORS, PREPARE FOR BATTLE!!" The gray mech takes a position and draws a sword and shield from his arms, as does Soundwave.

The blue flames look at him once more, a determined gleam in their eyes. There was no hesitation or remorse. But they all convey the same message.

‘Don’t hold back.’

“FIGHT!”

He won’t.

“Serena!”

The memory vanishes the moment Soundwave hears his human name call out to him. He blinks away his deep thoughts, the harsh light driving away the reminiscent past as Serena refocuses her gaze on the voice that had called out to her.

The small crowd had dispersed, and all that was left in the cool shade underneath the stage’s roof was a grinning Chevjo, waving his hand to garner her attention. He had placed his hoops and drums to the side of a realistic, wood bison statue that was as worn out as the withered mannequin.

Soundwave emerges from his trance as Serena steps away from the pole she had been leaning on and makes her approach to Chevjo.

He steps down the stairs, making his way to greet her with a bright smile as the sun illuminated his brown complexion, making it glisten like glittering brown soil on a worn-out path.

"Hey! How have you been since I last saw you? Come here!" Chevjo greeted her as he pulled Serena into an embrace.

Soundwave could not stifle Serena's bubbling laughter as she returned the hug, a smile stretching her rosy cheeks and causing her dark eyes to glitter with adoration.

"I saw you. Yesterday!" Serena speaks, pulling away from the hug and smiling at Chevjo.

"Aw~! But for me, it feels like forever! My daughter already misses you!" Chevjo chuckled and reassuringly squeezed the holoform arms, the sensation causing a tingle in Soundwave’s chassis that expanded with warmth.

“And I heard from Meli that she invited you to my family reunion! You are coming, yeah?” Chevjo’s excitement was exhilarating, spreading like a splash of water that made Serena nod in confirmation.

“AH! That’s wonderful! Oh, I’m so excited to see you there! Mi Casa es Tu Casa!” Chevjo cheered, taking Serena’s hands and clasping them with his own.

Soundwave wasn’t someone to get so flustered in compliments, but didn’t stop his holoform expressing his feelings as Serena grinned with a mix of shyness and amusement, ducking her head as if to her hide glowing face.

“And? How did it go? Did Yueting accept you?” Chevjo asks excitedly, gently guiding Serena into his stage to seek shade from the harsh sunlight. Soundwave allowed the holoform to be pulled, allowing the feelings of comfort and safety to wash over his body.

It was Chevjo who found Soundwave – well, more like he found Serena.

The first days were filled with confusion, as they navigated through the town while trying not to look strange and suspicious. How does a human normally walk? Was it with confidence? Or was it with seclusion? Did they keep their faces neutral or with a smile etched on them?

What was seen as strange? What was considered suspicious?

Soundwave ended up taking shelter underneath the gazebo by the open-air market, close to Oconaluftee, on a particularly humid afternoon when the gray skies decided to water the valley. Serena watched the river's rushing waters so intensely, Oconaluftee turning into a raging beast as the weather began to pick up.

So deep in his observations, did he not notice the presence of someone walking up to Serena, startling her and asking if she was cold.

He was lost in thought, gazing out as Oconaluftee's calm waters turned into a raging beast, its surface rippling and churning under the relentless downpour. The skies have darkened, heavy with clouds, as the rain intensified, drumming against the wooden roof of the gazebo. The wind swept across the valley, howling through the branches of the tallest trees, and sending cold gusts through the air.

While his holoform was impervious to the elements – unable to catch a cold or feel the icy sting of the rain – Soundwave remained under the shelter of the gazebo, preferring to avoid the storm’s fury. He watches the chaos unfold without fear or discomfort – yet, in reality, there was something more than the storm that kept him vigilant.

: The Storm is getting stronger.:

Perched in the rafters, Laserbeak scanned the skies. Her crimson optic was sharp, following every movement, even in the low light. Ever alert, ever loyal, she kept her proximity close to Soundwave’s holoform, as if unwilling to let her master drift too far from her protection.

Soundwave observed her briefly, feeling a pang of affection. While his human form was in no real danger, Laserbeak remained protective – looking out for threats, no matter how small.

It was endearing, in a way. Her vigilance served as a constant, unspoken reminder of the dangers they had faced together—and of the world they had left behind.

As if in response to her observations, the rain began to fall even harder, the droplets cascading down like tiny shards of glass, battering the earth and filling the air with a steady roar.

Soundwave acknowledged her report, his mind briefly shifting to check on her condition.

Laserbeak was in perfect shape, despite the long journey they had undertaken to get here. She had remained docked within his frame, enduring thousands of miles—over stormy seas, across frozen mountains, through violent weather that would have exhausted even the hardiest of travelers. And yet, she was as sharp as ever.

Unfortunately, Soundwave couldn’t say the same for himself. His authentic body, currently hidden far from where he sat, was still recovering. The escape had cost him a great ordeal, his systems depleted from the expended energy. It had taken him two full cycles to fully recharge after they had arrived. He had barely stirred from his recharge during those two days, his systems having to work overtime to restore his strength, causing Laserbeak to worry.

But it had been worth it. They were safe here, tucked away in the heart of the Qualla boundary—a place so far removed from their enemies, so obscure, that Soundwave doubted anyone would ever think to look for them here.

It was the perfect hiding place, away from their past lives, where they could never be found—where the war could never reach them again.

Where Soundwave might take the opportunity to start a new. With Laserbeak… and with—

:Soundwave! Someone’s approaching!:

Instantly, Soundwave’s holoform reacted, the alert from Laserbeak snapping him out of his reverie. He stood swiftly, turning to face the intruder—Serena moving with fluid grace, her posture straightening into one of quiet authority. Her eyes narrowed, locking on the figure that stood a couple of feet away.

A human man. Approximately 170.18 cm tall. His hair, dark and tied back into a messy braid, was plastered to his head from the rain. His cheap-look leather bomber jacket—torn and battered—clung to his scrawny frame, water streaming down its surface. Baggy jeans, and worn-out-looking sneakers.

He looked to be in his fifties or sixties, his face weathered but not unkind. In one hand, he clutched a half-open umbrella, the other carried a plastic grocery bag.

It seemed they weren’t anticipating Serena suddenly standing up and facing them, as the man stopped in his tracks, clearly startled. His hands shot up in a gesture of surrender, the umbrella wobbling awkwardly in his grip.

“Whoa! Sorry, miss!” he exclaimed, his voice high with surprise, but… friendly enough. His eyes widened as if he had come upon a wild animal. “Didn’t mean to frighten you!”

The man hesitated, his gaze flicking between Serena and the bag of groceries in his hand. Slowly, he bent down, placing the bag on the ground. His umbrella, still struggling against the wind, flipped upward, rendering it useless. He quickly closed it with a clumsy motion, chuckling at his misfortune.

“Sorry ‘bout that! Useless thing,” he muttered, his voice calmer now that he recovered from the surprise. “I was just passing by and saw you sitting here in the middle of this mess. Everything… okay?”

Serena remained silent, her posture still tense, though the urgency of the moment began to fade. The man appeared harmless, and from Laserbeak’s vantage point, there was no immediate threat.

The man smiled awkwardly, wiping some of the rain from his face. “Name’s Chevjo,” he said, extending a hand, “I know, strange name, right? It’s not even my real name—just a nickname folks around here gave me—kind of a mashup of Cherokee and Navajo.”

The rain continued its steady rhythm, blending with the sound of Chevjo’s words. Serena stood still, her gaze fixed on him.

Soundwave processor whirled as he assessed the man before Serena. He appeared harmless—just another local offering a friendly hand. But his instincts always demanded caution, scanning his features in search of any trace of deception.

But there was none.

Instead, there was something else—a warmth, an openness that radiated from Chevjo. It wasn’t often he encountered humans that evoked such aura.

For a moment longer, he hesitates, unsure whether to respond. He had spent so long in environments where trust was a luxury, where every face had the potential to hide a threat. But… there was something about the human. His casual manner, the openness of his tone—it was… unfamiliar. But strangely… reassuring.

Serena's gaze flickered down to his hand, still outstretched despite the rain dripping from his fingers. Slowly, she reached out, her movements deliberate.

When Serena’s hands met the stranger’s hand, Soundwave expected it to be cold from the freezing air of the storm. But instead, he felt warmth in his grasp, firm… yet unassuming. A handshake of a man who had nothing to hide.

“Serena,” his holoform said, her voice quiet—yet clear as rainwater.

Chevjo’s grin widened at the gesture, a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Well, Serena, good to meet you!” He shook her hand with gentle enthusiasm before releasing it, “I’m just making my way to the museum, going to pick up my wife! We don’t get too many visitors this early in March—especially in weather like this.

Soundwave regarded him for a moment, as Serena withdrew her hand from the man’s grasp, his mind processing the encounter. A simple human, with simple intentions.

Chevjo glanced around at the raging storm, and then back at Serena. “You’re not cold, are you? Weather like this could freeze anyone to the bone.”

The concern in his voice was genuine, and Serena blinked. Cold… no he couldn’t feel cold through his holoform. So why was he able to feel the warmth from the man’s grasp?

For a brief moment, Soundwave considered how strange this encounter must have seemed to him. A lone figure in the storm, wearing nothing but sneakers, jeans, and a blue blouse. Serena wasn’t even wearing a jacket.

“No,” Serena replied, her voice still monotone and steady with calm. “I’m not cold.”

Chevjo tilted his head, his eyebrows raising to his hairline. “Really? Not even a little?” At the response of a head shake, “Well—the museum is open to the public, at least to the gift shop. I suggest you head there for some proper shelter before you turn into a statue out here.”

For a moment, Soundwave hesitated. But… there was something in Chevjo’s voice that made him reconsider. There was no reason to continue standing alone in the storm, not when shelter—and perhaps a more reasonable sense as to explain his lack of warm clothing – was being offered so freely. He feels Laserbeak’s presence, her silent vigilance never wavering even as the rain battered against the gazebo. The slight shift in Laserbeak’s wings was all the signal Soundwave needed.

She was cautious, but she trusted Soundwave’s judgment. : It’s safe.:

Turning back to Chevjo, Serena gave a small nod. “All right. I’ll go.”

Chevjo smiled back happily, almost relieved. Without a second though, he fumbled with his umbrella, holding out to her despite its near uselessness in the storm. “Here, take this.”

Serena eyed the umbrella for a second, then took it with a nod of thanks. Chevjo, already pulling his jacket tighter around himself, motioned her to follow. “Let's make a run for it before we get washed away!”

Chevjo laughed as he began jogging toward the museum, his boots splashing through the puddles. Serena followed, holding the umbrella above her as the storm howled around them. Above them, Laserbeak circled once, her optics scanning the area before following Soundwave from a safe distance, keeping a watchful eye on the stormy skies.

What transpired after that question was something Soundwave didn’t plan to occur, and yet… he welcomed it without any hesitation. Perhaps it was the sound of Chevjo’s voice that allowed those hints of doubts to disperse, or his comforting presence lulling Soundwave holoform to drop any tension it built up when Chevjo startled her from his trance.

It was Chevjo who got her job as a janitor in the museum. It was Chevjo who introduced her to Meli and the rest of the townspeople. It was Chevjo who welcomed her into his hometown without a hint of hesitation. Without a hint of fear. Without a hint of scrutiny.

… Humans were strange.

“She said yes.”

“Eh! Eh eh!” Chevjo grinned, stretching wide when Serena mimicked the same expression, unable to withdraw from Chevjo's contagious energy as it spread like waves formed from a raindrop. “I told you! Yueting has a soft spot for pretty girls like you!”

Yueting probably didn’t, but who was he to judge? If being pretty in this human society got you a job, then Soundwave must be doing something right.

“At least you still have a place to work before the museum shuts down for renovations.” Chevjo continued, moving to the side of the wood bison statue as he bent down to pick up his drumsticks. “I’m glad Yueting took you in, but no doubt she be nagging into my ear later.”

“… Thank you.” If only two words were enough to express the genuine gratitude Soundwave held for Chevjo, even as a storm of confusion brewed in his chassis. Just why was Chevjo so interested in helping Serena?

Back in Cybertron, if someone was doing an act of kindness towards you, there was a reason behind it. He can still feel those “acts of kindness”, feel them ranking their servos up his arms, whispering soft words of nothing, their optics searching over his visor as if they wanted to peek inside to continue telling their pretty little lies.

And others… would even dare to try and possess you.

“To possess a rarity like you…” Servos softly touched the edges of his helm, gleaming adamant in the senator’s yellow optics. It moves from his helm’s spikes to the edge of his chin, lifting it sharply.

“However, I’m curious: why the mask?” Soundwave jerks away, ready to stand up and leave when the servo returns to his chin and pulls him back. In terror, Soundwave collapses to the ground, landing on the senator’s lap. When he hears a chuckle, the servo under his chin raises his helm once more.

“My my! This simply adds to your allure in my optics.”

… No wonder his Sire avoided the High Council court.

But… he didn’t see those reasons in lurking in the warm waters of Chevjo’s eyes. The way they glimmered in the light, stoking flames of warmth and truth. There were no lies and no reason – well, there was a reason, but it was nothing like those parasites.

Chevjo smiled at Soundwa-Serena, so genuine as those warm waters glimmered like there were stars on its surface.

His sire had pretty optics, that shone just like the stars that blanketed Cybertron.

“Hey, don’t worry about it!” Chevjo chuckled, waving a hand down, his smile still intact even as he looked down at the moccasins on his feet. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Chevjo looks up again, using one of his drumsticks to point toward the continuing movement of people as they weave through one another like running water going through rocks. “People nowadays will go on about their lives, so focused in their world.”

“They ignore the problems that are occurring around them. It truly takes a moment to change someone’s life.”

“Soooo… Soundwave huh? Jazz’s the name."

Soundwave examines the cultural investigator's servo, which has been extended towards him. Soundwave simply looked at it before it withdrew from him. "All right, no handshake. That's something I can handle."

"Soundwave does not like being touched by strangers." Megatron rumbles as he walks away from Orion and towards Soundwave and Jazz.

“Ah. Sorry about that. I just like to do what’s called a friendly introduction.” Jazz jests, but Soundwave doesn’t find humor in it. Megatron's eyes narrow as he crosses his arms behind his back.

Orion frowns at Jazz as he approaches the three of them. “Jazz…”

Jazz raises his servos up in defense. “Awe come on Orion; I’m just poking some fun. The atmosphere is just moody here.” Soundwave can’t help but cock his head. The atmosphere was moody?

“Anyways, I just came here to check on my pal here. Care to tell me why you’re staying here for a couple of solar cycles, Orion?”

“It’s only for a while. I plan to return to Iacon soon.” Orion answers, gaze fixed on Soundwave and Megatron. “After all, I have Megatron and Soundwave here.”

“Uh huh, yeah sure. Trust in two mechs to make your vacation feel relaxed and safe. Hey, can we go back to the mention of strangers?” Jazz crosses his arms across his chest, a brow raising.

“Jazz!” Orion looked like he was ready to argue until Megatron spoke up.

“What makes you think we are incapable of providing safety to Orion?” Megatron's optics gleamed as he questioned Jazz.

“Not trying to cause rivalries here, but think about it. Would you put your trust in a couple of mechs that you’ve only known through screen communication, and then in person the very next day?”

… When Jazz says it like that, Soundwave could see the investigator's point of perspective.

And it seems Megatron agreed as well if the humming was anything to go by.

“Jazz! I put my trust in both Megatron and Soundwave! After all, you have already taught me self-defense-“

“Just because I taught you some little self-defense doesn’t mean you can just get up and go straight to the most dangerous part of Cybertron! Now you’re sorry aft got to deal with Ratchet-“

“YOU TOLD RATCHET!” Okay, this is getting good. And from the way Orion spoke out the name “Ratchet”, this Ratchet was something to be dreaded. More or less.

Soundwave looks up to Megatron, noting a hint of a smirk growing. Even he found the squabbles amusing.

"Okay, wait, you-nevermind-Megatron? May we talk privately for a nano-klik?" Orion returns his gaze to them, a frustrated expression on his faceplate. Jazz's arms remained crossed, a pede tapping impatiently on the floor.

Megatron merely shrugs, and the two go away to a different room. Soundwaves watches them leave before returning his focus to Jazz, who has resumed speaking.

"Soundwave, right?" Soundwave nods in confirmation. Jazz locks his gaze on him, his blue visor flashing. His lips are pursed, and his pede has ceased its annoying tapping.

“Hm. Sorry, but you look familiar. Have we met?”

Soundwave only stares at Jazz, the latter looking more uneasy to his silence before shrugging away his discomfort.

“From your frame language, something tells me we have. Care to tell me where?

[-you look familiar. -we met-] Soundwave responds with Jazz voice clips, causing the investigator to stiffen. [Soooo- how was the- Iacon- arena?]

Jazz remains still, his mouth open as he stares at the silent gladiator. He finally moves when he clenches his servos into a fist, baring his teeth.

“You-!”

“We’re back!” Orion returns to the two of them, Megatron close behind. "I appreciate you keeping Jazz company, Soundwave." Soundwave nods at Orion, who smiles down at him. Unaware of the secret his "good friend" was withholding from him.

It was just a question of time. And patience.

It was time-consuming to gather materials. It was he who instructed me to be the one to seek our elders for a small bit of essence. That they would listen to me because I was the youngest.

They each joyfully gave them to me, these few whisps of purity that were required to construct the world.

I patted and mended. Tweaked and plucked. Stretched and squeezed. It was my most ambitious project to date, and I poured my love and soul into it.

It was a world that we had made. Together.

Every small detail. Every canyon and river, mountain and sea, plate and land had been created by me and him.

Together.

He was beside me, producing whisps of light and heat with the tips of his fingers, bathing the world with light from the infinite darkness of the universe.

He was ethereal. A pure essence of brightness and beauty, as light whirled about him like a galaxy.

I could not help but become distracted. I was enthralled and felt the impulse to dance alongside him.

Light and ---. Two sides of the same coin.

…So, why?

…Why did he do that…?

Chapter Text

: So… yeah. I guess you could say I made a new friend.:

Monday was finally here, creeping in slowly, the first rays of sunlight spilling over the mountain peaks like a reluctant promise as it bathed the valley below in its warmth. The valley below stirred to life; its quiet stillness was shattered by the songbirds’ early calls. Their whistles and chirps rippled across the trees, rousing everything in their path—from restless critters to the weathered walls of their barn that had long since seen better days.

Their symphony of whistles and chirps had even awakened the two cybertronians nestled inside the abandoned barn—the sunlight squeezing through the cracks of the barn’s patched-up roof, kissing the edges of their still forms.

This barn – this patchwork shelter—was far from a suitable living area, but what options did they have?

But Soundwave made it work. It wasn’t the first time he had adapted to less-than-ideal conditions, but this was—admittedly—different.

With Laserbeak’s help, they had turned the crumbling remains of the barn into something almost… functional. The gaping hole on the roof was their first priority, patching it up by balancing spare withered planks on the old rafters and crisscrossed tree branches on the wood that was too brittle to hold. It wasn’t perfect—there were still holes where the rain could sneak in, soft patterns of drops slipping through. But it was better than nothing.

They also had to clean up the inside. The barn was obviously abandoned, littered with the remnants of its once-lived existence: broken tools, crumpled paper, and rusting metal scraps that had no use to anyone. Soundwave had to meticulously sift through the debris, piece by piece until the floor was clear enough to walk without stumbling. He’d piled everything they didn’t need outside, a makeshift heap of history left to decay in the open air.

Insulation, he realized, was crucial. The nights were colder than expected, and the barn's thin, splintered walls offered little protection. Fortunately, Laserbeak – ever observant—demonstrated what he needed to do.

She had watched beavers upstream of the Oconaluftee River, building a dam with mud and sticks. It was a crude solution, but it gave Soundwave an idea of what to do. He spent hours by the riverbank, scooping up wet mud and hauling it back to the barn. It was backbreaking work, especially for his already strained frame, but with steady hands and careful application, he packed the mud into the cracks of the wall, sealing them as best as he could. It had been tiring, requiring his remaining strength, but the results were satisfactory.

It wasn’t much; it was still drafty, still fragile in the face of nature’s elements. But they have made it work. A shelter, at the most. Each piece they mended, each crack they filled, was a small victory.

: He has the guts to speak to me, considering how far bigger I am. But he didn't seem to mind, I'm pretty sure he was just lonely.:

And because it was Monday, it also meant that Soundwave—or in this case, Serena—had a day off from work.

Mondays had become a day in which Soundwave looked forward to, as it served as an opportunity to spend time with Laserbeak—to make up for the days when their time together was reduced to fleeting moments and late, exhausting nights. The disguise was necessary for their survival, but it also kept him away from her.

Before arriving to Cherokee, Soundwave had only come prepared with a limited supply of nanites. This amount was calculated to be just enough to form a single, convincing human disguise, enabling him to blend seamlessly into the local population without drawing undue attention.

However, this limited supply of nanites also meant that Laserbeak could not accompany him in the same manner. Instead, Laserbeak was relegated to maintaining a vigilant watch from a distance. From her aerial vantage point, she meticulously scanned both the skies and the terrain below, ensuring that Soundwave—disguised as Serena—remained safe and undetected as he navigated the human world. Every flicker of movement, every potential threat, was noted and dismissed or tracked if necessary.

She was his eyes, his shield, ensuring that Soundwave—in his disguise—remained safe and undetected.

The separation was a small price to pay for the discretion required in their current situation, though it did little to diminish the bond between them.

: So he showed me around and even took me to his nest, where he had a stash of stolen trinkets. He had a thing for shiny stuff. It was kind of charming. He was so proud of it, as if those random bits of human stuff were treasures.:

But Laserbeak didn’t seem bothered having to relegate from watching afar. In fact, she had welcomed it. From her aerial vantage point, she had the freedom to explore, to observe without interference, and to interact with the critters that called the Appalachian Mountains home.

: Afterwards, I decided to go a little further outside of Cherokee, where I found another dam. But this was human-made, and I saw a squabble between a hawk and an eagle fighting over a fish.:

Every day was a new discovery for her, a fresh adventure. As her master mingled among humans, blending into their world as “Serena Wayne,” Laserbeak roamed the skies, immersing herself in the rhythms of the organic planet.

From the skies flocked by migrating birds and monarch butterflies to the howls of red wolves and the galloping hooves of elks among the trees - every day was a new story for her to recount to Soundwave.

: I couldn’t help but remember Frenzy and Rumble skirmishes, : Laserbeak mused, her optic narrowing slightly as if pondering something deeper, : Those two birds reminded me too much of how they used to fight for certain items.:

Soundwave, who had been listening in silence, felt his thoughts come to a halt.

The floors thud beneath his feet, similar to a spark rhythm. It becomes louder as he approaches the Colosseum's entrance, blending with the sounds of the crowds waiting for him.

He pushes forward, his head raised. His twin blades are side by side with him on his servos.

"Yo! Boss!" A voice from behind him draws him away from his concentration. He turns slightly, recognizing the minion who is barely a few feet away.

With enthusiasm, the minicon smiled. He waved his arm around in encouragement. "You go out there and beat some afts, Okay!”

Following him, another minicon emerged, stumbling on their pedes. They, too, waved their arms in support. “Yeah! Exactly what Frenzy said!"

On four pedes, a third minicon appears and slinks past the two. Scoffing, the thin cat-like being sat between the two minicons. "I'll keep Frenzy and Rumble going after you." Make sure they don't bother another spectator again."

“Oi! No, we aren't! We'll be rooting for Soundwave!" Frenzy, the first minicon, huffed.

“Yeah! We'll be rooting for the boss!" Rumble added his voice.

The third minicon just rolled their red optics in amusement, their tail fluttering.

The Soundwave spark rumbles with content as they walk silently towards the three. He kneels to the ground, lovingly caressing each of them.

[161.13.1984] Frenzy, Rumble: follow Ravage

Twin minicons sulk. “Awe!”

Soundwave quickly rises and returns to the entrance.

But, before entering the arena, he takes one last look at his symbiotes.

Frenzy and Rumble both gave a thumbs up, beaming at their carrier. Ravage gives a nod.

"We'll be cheering from the seats."

"We'll be just fine."

“It's not your fault, you know.”

Laserbeak’s voice cut through the fog of Soundwave’s memories, pulling him back to the present. He blinked slowly, his optics refocusing on her small frame perched above him on the worn wooden beams of the barn. She was framed by a soft glow of sunlight that filtered through the gaps in the slats, casting a long shadow that stretched toward the corners of the barn. The warmth of the morning sunbathed her dark metallic wings, and she looked almost serene—content even.

She didn’t look back at him, her gaze fixed on something distant, just beyond the opening of the roof. However, the way her wings occasionally and subtly flapped, betrayed her alertness. She had sensed it—the brewing storm of regret that stirred within her master.

Soundwave didn’t respond right away, but simply observed Laserbeak—his visor dimming as he processed the scene before him.

The way the sunlight touched her—illuminating not just her metallic frame, but the millennia of loss that weighed them both down. She was all that was left—the youngest of his symbiotes, the last of a family torn apart by war. The others had perished long ago, their sparks extinguished in the final days of Cybertron’s collapse.

She had been the youngest, the smallest of them all… but now, she carried a weight that belied her size. Somehow, she had survived where others hadn’t, and with that survival came a kind of wisdom that only time and hardship could forge.

And she has the strength to say it wasn’t his fault…

[161.13.1984] Regret: … A constant companion.

“Yeah, well… there's nothing we can do, can we?” Laserbeak chirped after a long pause, her voice a steady, calming presence amid Soundwave’s swirling thoughts. She still didn’t turn to face him, her gaze still fixed outward, scanning the horizon through the gaps in the barn’s walls. Always vigilant, always watching.

:... I know you’re prone to feel guilt over your choices, but you do have to remember—we all made those choices. You’re not alone in feeling regret, Soundwave.:

… has Laserbeak sounded so… wise? The thought echoed in his mind, leaving him unsettled. He can’t recall her ever saying those kinds of sentences before when Laserbeak’s words were simpler. Now, there was a maturity in her voice that he hadn’t noticed before, a steady resolve that reminded him more of Ravage than the once playful symbiote she had been.

… it was forced upon her, wasn’t it?

Soundwave’s mind wandered back to the dark days of Cybertron’s collapse. One by one, her siblings had fallen - Frenzy, Rumble, Ravage - to the unrelenting chaos of the battlefield. And as the youngest, Laserbeak had been left behind, forced to grow up faster than she should have. Forced to take on responsibilities that weren’t hers. It made sense now, why she carried herself the way she did—why her words were filled with a weight she shouldn’t have had to bear.

Soundwave felt that familiar ache in his spark, the hollow grief that refused to reside, heavy like a pile of stone. Laserbeak’s words had brought a silver of comfort, yes, but his dark thoughts remained, lodged deep in the pit of his being.

: Soundwave, I need you to stop thinking for a moment.: Laserbeak’s voice broke through his thoughts again, sharper this time. She shifted from her perch, her wings fluttering slightly as she repositioned herself to face him, her single red optic locking onto his. : Repeat after me: it's not your fault.:

It was such a simple command, yet Soundwave found himself unable to follow it, unable to form the words. His mind rebelled against the thought.

How could he possibly absolve himself of the choices that had led them here? Every decision, every step he had taken been in service to… him. In service to a war that has claimed so much. He had been there, at his side—

Soundwave wasn’t sure who he was looking at anymore.

A wide frame disfigured by innumerable scars from war after battle. Soundwave had seen this frame many times, had identified every gap and tear in the vulnerability of the moment, and had grown to admire it.

A hulking figure was now crouching on the ground, fuming in a fanatical, crazed-induced fashion. Their purple, maniacal optics were wide open, jittering around in the barren chamber.

Those purple lenses. The youthful, blue flames that his spark had grown fond of had vanished, replaced with a frantic and desperate desire to spill the energon of his enemy.

Soundwave took a step forward, marching towards the hunched figure on the other side.

Lithe fingers drifted upwards, prepared to settle softly on the mech's shoulder.

What Soundwave didn't expect was to be propelled almost feet away into the air, skidding to the ground with painful scratches marring his form.

Soundwave’s frame trembled, either from pain or shock or a mix of the two.

Soundwave attempts to stand, dimly hearing the tink of glass dropping. He looks down, noticing glass shards near his servos and the dulling, acute agony emanating from his faceplate.

His visor was broken.

Soundwave glances up as a shadow falls over him.

Megatron's optics remained purple and enraged.

"… what are you doing here…"

He was at a loss for words. What did Megatron want to know? Is there a response? Is there a reason?

[161.13.1984] Lord Mega-

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!!" The roar was deafening, and Soundwave bolted from the room as the echoes of rage pursued him. "LEAVE LEAVE LEAVE!!"

: SOUNDWAVE!:

W-what?

: Soundwave, calm down!:

Wait, what was going on?

His thoughts felt disjointed, like static cutting through a transmission. He forced himself to concentrate, to pay attention, but his sensors were slow to respond. Why was everything spinning?

Soundwave optics flickered as reality snapped back into place, bit by bit. Laserbeak was no longer on the rafters where she had been moments ago. She had flown down and was now perched on his chassis, her small frame pressing against his as if trying to soothe him. He felt the gentle weight of her presence, her metallic wings fanning out over him, but something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He was no longer sitting upright—his entire frame had collapsed backward, and he found himself sprawled out on the floor of the barn, staring up at the roof. His body was spasming uncontrollably; the once-smooth, sleek plates of his armor rattling violently against one another. The noise echoed through the barn like a malfunctioning engine grinding itself to pieces.

The pain… surged through him like a bolt of electricity… coming from his chassis…

Panic gripped him. He could feel it, gnawing at the edges of his mind, threatening to consume him.

His vents struggled to expel the heat building within him, stuttering as they worked overtime. Desperately, he forced them open, pushing his frame to vent the excess energy at mach five, trying to cool his overheating systems before they fried completely.

Laserbeak, ever so loyal, flapped her wings furiously, creating a steady stream of cool air that washed over him. Her presence, her efforts, were the only thing grounding him, keeping him tethered to reality as his systems battled against the strange and unpredictable malfunction. Slowly—agonizingly slowly—the spasms began to subside. His plates stopped their violent rattling, the tremors in his servos fading to a dull shiver.

Soundwave sucked in a deep, shuddering vent, his cooling systems finally catching up. His frame was still trembling, but the worst of the episode had subsided. He felt Laserbeak’s small, comforting weight on his chassis, her wings now fluttering gently as she monitored him.

Why… Why was his frame acting this way? It wasn’t because… of his current predicament, was it?

: Soundwave? Are you feeling better now?: Laserbeak chittered softly, her concern palpable. Her metallic wings hadn’t stopped, continuing their rhythmic flapping to help him cool. She hovered just above his faceplate, her single optic flowing with quiet worry.

Soundwave simply nodded, his movements slow as he lifted one arm, shakily, and gently stroked Laserbeak’s back with a lithe finger. He scratched the small area that always made her purr softly, and for a brief moment, the tension in his body lessened.

Thank you.

He didn’t say the words aloud, but he knew Laserbeak understood. She always did. She chirped softly in response, as his frame slowly began to regain some semblance of normalcy. Soundwave propped himself back up into a sitting position, careful not to strain himself too much, as Laserbeak shifted from his chest to settle on his lap.

He could still feel the aftershocks of the episode, the residual trembling in his servos as his systems recalibrated. He took a moment to scan his internal diagnostics, looking for answers—anything to explain what had just happened.

His energon levels were fine; he had enough to last for a couple of months at least, and he knew where to find hidden caches of energon mines if he needed to restock. But that wasn’t the problem.

Something deeper was wrong, something that required medical aid far beyond his capabilities. He skimmed through the warnings in his systems, frustration building as they all pointed to the same conclusion.

Medical Aid: Needed.

He heaved a deep, static-laden sigh, bringing a servo to his forehead as the beginnings of a helmache crept in.

His entire frame was a mess, and without proper treatment, things were only going to get worse from here. But where could he find help? He was alone out here—no medics, no access to the resources he needed to repair him properly. The best he could was patch up minor damages and hope for the best.

: This is the 3rd time this has happened, Soundwave.: Laserbeak chitters, her beaks frantically pecking off the dirt and dead grass that had managed to get stuck in the seams of his armor. : You… we need to find help.:

… He kind of figured that out, but there weren't that many options. Yes, he wasn’t a medic. Yes, he had no medical knowledge of what was happening to him. His systems were failing in ways he couldn’t fully comprehend, and without help, it was only a matter of time before something worse happened.

But to seek help… was a death sentence in itself.

Because if he were to reach out, it would only be a matter of time before they tracked him down—before they deciphered his location. The Decepticons had no mercy for deserters, and there was no doubt that… he… would ensure his capture if he was found. And if it wasn’t for the Decepticons, it would be the Autobots who would show no mercy to a former Decepticon communication officer.

They would have no mercy on him… or Laserbeak.

He slumped against the walls of the barn, his frame heavy with exhaustion. The old wooden slats groaned beneath his weight, creaking in protest as though they too felt the burden of the years he carried. The sharp pain in his chassis had finally begun to withdraw, dulling into a faint throb that spread through the rest of his frame like the fading echoes of distant battle.

The pain had been excruciating while it lasted, but it had passed quickly—too quickly. Nano-clicks, really. It wasn’t anything to be alarmed about, was it?

(Yes. Yes it is.)

[161.13.1984] Medical Aid: Necessary

[161.13.1984] Seeking Aid: Dangerous

: I know - but what if the next time it happens, it's fatal?: Laserbeak chittered, her tone was a mix of frustration and worry as she glanced up at her master with a sharp optic, as if to gauge his reaction. : This isn't a common malfunction, Soundwave!:

Well, he’s not being ignorant about it!

She was right. He knew he was right. But acknowledging it meant confronting a truth he wasn’t ready to face.

[161.13.1984] If Seeking: Location will be discovered

[161.13.1984] If discovered: No mercy

… he had always been ruthless, and now that Soundwave had abandoned him, the punishment wouldn’t be swift. It would be brutal. Seeking aid was a gamble that could cost him everything.

: … scrap. You’re right.: Laserbeak’s wing drooped, her small form deflating under the weight of the realization that dawned on her, recognizing that there was no easy solution. Soundwave felt a pang of guilt as he watched her, her once-sharp confidence dulled by the harshness of their situation.

He crooned in response, a low, comforting sound as he resumed stroking her back with gentle fingers, his movements slow and deliberate. It was the only comfort he could offer, a small token of reassurance in a world that offered them little.

: If we go out looking for help… it’ll make it easier for them to find us, won’t it?:

[161.13.1984] Correct.

The weight of that single word hung between them, heavy and oppressive. They knew the risks, and yet… the need for survival pressed down on them harder with each passing day.

Laserbeak chittered softly once more as if accepting the reality of their situation. She remained silent, allowing Soundwave to continue soothing her.

And they stayed that way, the two of them seeking what little comfort they could find in each other in their small barn. Outside, the natural world carried on, oblivious to their struggles. The songbird's delicate melodies seeped through the cracks in the wall, filling the air with the simple sounds of life.

… It really was just them now, wasn’t it?

It settled over Soundwave like a weight, heavier than the aches in his frame. He heaved another deep vent, the rush of air through his systems slowing as his body continued to recover, as his vents finally lowered back to mach one.

[161.13.1986] Regret: Persistent

Laserbeak chitters, bringing her attention back to Soundwave.

[161.13.1986] But… choice: Necessary

Laserbeak was silent for a moment, her single optic locked onto his visor.

: Soundwave, I meant what I said earlier—it was my choice. It was all our choice to join this war. We did it because we love you. I still love you.:

… his emotions have been all over the place lately, surging and crashing with a force he had never experienced before. Slag, he had never been so close to tears. Not like this. Not with this intensity.

: And I truly mean it when I say it isn’t your fault.: Laserbeak chirped softly as if sensing the rising ride of emotion within him. : We made the right choice now. Leaving the war behind was the best thing we could have done.:

: For them. And for us.:

… it was a long road from here, an impossible road. The future still looked bleak, but… did he make the right choice, for once?

: We must honor their memory by living for them, not in regret.:

Frenzy. Rumble. Ravage.

The names drifted through his mind like ghosts, each one carrying with it the weight of a lifetime of memories.

Would they be disappointed in him now? Sitting here, wallowing in his own guilt, unable to move forward? Would they see him as weak for abandoning the cause he had helped to create—the cause that consumed so much of his life?

… no. Perhaps… they wouldn’t. Perhaps, they would finally understand. Maybe they would be happy that he’s finally made the decision to finally escape the millennium of pain and suffering he had forced himself upon.

Maybe for once, he’s truly made the right choice in this fiasco called his life.

The soft sound of chattering birds broke through the quiet tension, drawing their attention toward the rafters.

Two cardinals flitted in through a gap in the old wooden slats, their small bodies barely making a sound as they landed on the beams overhead—their bright feathers making a stark contrast to the weathered wood and muted light that filled the barn.

The birds seemed utterly oblivious to the two Cybertronians sitting below them, their movements quick and purposeful as they chittered amongst themselves. They flickered from one rafter to the next, bobbing their heads and fluttering their wings as if they were assessing the space, their tiny voices echoing faintly through the barn.

Soundwave simply watched them, his gaze following their every move with an almost absent curiosity. The sight of the birds—so small and so unaware—brought a strange sensation of calm.

Eventually, they came across a small peephole just above the barn’s sliding doors, their chatter continuing as they examined the tiny opening. One of the birds flitted in and out, the sunlight catching on its vibrant brown feathers as it explored the peephole, almost as if deciding whether this place could become their new home. The two birds flickered in and out as they chattered among themselves.

Subconsciously, Soundwave shifted. His massive form moved closer to the edge of the barn, his steps almost imperceptible as he tried to avoid starling the birds.

Fortunately, the birds didn’t seem to notice his presence, too focused on their little task. The smaller of the two eventually nestled itself into the peephole, chirping softly, while the other bird fluttered away, likely to gather material for a nest.

:... looks like we got new neighbors.: Laserbeak noted, whistling softly to not alert the female cardinal of their presence. The two watched guard, making sure the female cardinal was safe from any harm while her partner was away to gather materials for their new nest.

For their new… “home.”

Megatronus taps the little card against the sensors. It beeps, and the rusted sliding door creaks and moans its way open before stopping halfway. Megatronus and Soundwave exchange glances, with the former gripping the edges and sliding it open. They peer inside.

"It's small."

Indeed it was. Soundwave hums in agreement as he enters the exceedingly small "cage" apartment.

The space was far too small for even two mechs to move around in. A single berth in one corner with very little space on the other side. A single table at the far end of the room with a single chair and no windows, with only a single bulb on the ceiling for light.

The setting was... dismal. However, it took two mechs and stellar cycles to raise enough shanix to even be able to rent a room, much less live in it.

Soundwave, on the other hand, was not about to descend so low in moping or whining. No, he'll take it in stride and see it as a learning experience. A new beginning in life.

He walks up to the berth, dumping whatever items he has on the nearly collapsing berth (which wasn't much to begin with).

Megatronus follows him in but is unable to fit through the narrow entrance. Soundwave watches with mirth as Megatronus attempts to squeeze himself through. Megatronus finally makes it through with a grunt, having dented the entryway inward with a big, circular form that prompts Soundwave to laugh. Megatronus glares at him, placing his possessions on the table in feigned rage.

“The door was already broken.” Megatronus mumbles, though grinning as Soundwave lets out another laugh.

Already, the cold and dark apartment warmed with the presence of two lovers.

A culmination of millennia of labor, of dreams, spun from stardust and whispered promises among the cosmos, it was done.

Our world, that we created.

It gleamed in the infinite space of time, a testament of our shared testament.

As we stood upon its surface, surveying the expanse of the newly created blue skies that stretched across the canyons and rolling mountains, my inner spark swelled in pride. A celestial symphony of joy echoing through my being.

Together. Together, we had shaped every facet - from towering spires to crystalline oceans that mirrored the constellations above.

We made it. Together.

A part of me couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but revel in the harmony of our creation, the unity that bound us as brothers. The warmth of our shared endeavor washed over me, an embrace amidst the uncharted reaches of the universe.

… I was foolishly naive.

Because underneath the shimmering facade of unity, a discordant note resonated. Amidst the euphoria, a shadow crept into my being - a whisper of doubt, a flicker of unease.

He looked at our creation with an intensity that I was too blind to see. He had begun to withdraw into the depths of his thoughts, his gaze inwards, contemplative, and distant.

I sought answers in his eyes… but found only a solemn resolve.

“Cybertron is complete.” He said, “But this is where our paths diverge, brother.”

…

… I honestly can’t recall what happened next. But I remember the emptiness that unfolded within me.

… He stole it. He stole my essence. My gift.

… he stole it.

…

… he stole it…

…

… As the last echoes of our shared light faded into the cold silence of the cosmos, I was left behind in the remnants of stardust - left behind with a hole in my chest where my gift once resided, pulsing as the green of my blood turned a sickly violet.

… In the heart of creation, even gods can betray.