Someday, I will stop naming these fics after songs and use some real creativity. ...Not today.

Inaudible Melodies

Optimus had yet to determine whether or not it was a good thing that he wasn’t questioned over his orders – by anyone other than Sentinel, anyway. After he had worked with his group on Earth, unquestioning compliance just seemed… odd. Before, his orders were challenged and argued at every turn, and this change seemed somehow unnatural. It even felt a bit unsafe, but he took the best care not to exert authority anymore often than necessary.

When Optimus ordered that the Decepticons be paired up in their cells, he had every justification in the world to give – all of them were lies, of course, but he never even needed to justify much of anything. Overcrowding in the brig was a problem, sure, but Optimus was more concerned with… well, he wasn’t precisely sure what.

It might have been terribly insulting to say Optimus was interested mostly in seeing how the Decepticons treated one another, what they were like outside of the battlefield. So little was really known about them – even their dialect was different enough to cause miscommunications at times. After so many vorns apart from one another, the Decepticons and Autobots had developed subtly different languages, and different traditions, different ways of looking at things. It seemed odd, even perverted, but Optimus was still curious to know more.

He sat in his office – the room seemed unbearably empty and open, with nothing but a desk and two chairs before him. Sentinel occupied the chair opposite of him, saying something that Optimus didn’t really care to listen to. His optics were fixed on his computer screen – a security camera overlooking Megatron’s cell. The Decepticon lord was settled back on his berth, back against the wall, optics dim.

The florescent lights winked dimly, making clear just how disused these cells were. The cleanliness of it only made clear just how long it had been since anyone had resided there, and Optimus wondered vaguely how long he could keep Megatron imprisoned like this. Truth was, he had no idea what to do, and as he watched Megatron lazily look from the wall to the door, he knew that there was something extraordinarily cruel about keeping him caged in this manner for so long. This was what Megatron had wished to avoid, why he had attempted to coax Optimus into destroying him.

The door of the cell opened, and an Autobot guard – Optimus felt guilty that he didn’t remember his subordinate’s name – escorted a bound Shockwave inside. Megatron did not stand nor speak, only moving to sit up on his berth, watching silently as Shockwave’s arms were unbound and he was left with his leader.

Optimus tried to imagine what it would be like, were his position reversed with Megatron’s. Had his subordinates been brought to him, it would have been a guarded, uncomfortable affair. Ratchet would be bitter and snide. Prowl would be unreadable and aloof. Bumblebee would be angry, blaming everything and everyone but himself. Bulkhead, of course, would have been awkwardly apologetic.

Optimus was certain that, after such a defeat, he would only wish to be left alone.

Decepticons were different – at least, these ones were. Shockwave didn’t hesitate, moving to Megatron and kneeling at his feet. Shockwave was not being submissive, he was not fearful nor apologetic. His antennas were tipped back, his behavior relaxed and passive as he settled clawed fingertips against Megatron’s knee – briefly, before he withdrew them.

It was nothing more complex than adoration for his leader. He offered companionship and nothing else.

It was odd that Optimus feel a sickly, unsettling wave of longing at something so simple. The two Decepticons did not speak, did not argue, blame one another or scheme to escape. There was some sort of unspoken understanding, and Optimus could only guess at what it could mean.

“–are you even listening to me, Optimus?!”

Optimus tried to hide how badly he jolted at the remark. He flicked off the computer monitor quickly.

“Yes,” said Optimus, twisting to look at Sentinel. Sentinel fixed him with a skeptical look, and Optimus relented. He sighed and shook his head, shrugging apologetically. “Well, sort of.”

Exasperated, Sentinel climbed to his feet. “I don’t believe this!” he cried, wounded. “I sit here for half a cycle trying to give you a report and you just ignore me! You can’t expect me to just repeat everything, sir – this is as least the third time you’ve–”

“Sentinel,” interrupted Optimus, a bit strained – he was starting to sound as weary as Ultra Magnus used to. “Can’t you just – can’t we talk about something other than the report?”

“Like what?” insisted Sentinel. “The new personnel?”

“No.”

“The new security procedures for–”

“No,” said Optimus, exasperated. “I mean something not related to work. Something… else.”

Sentinel scoffed, squaring his shoulders. “You’re Magnus, Optimus. You’re not supposed to talk about ‘something else’! I don’t have time to sit here if you’re just going to ignore me, you know! I have better things to do, and I don’t care if you do outrank me – call me again when you actually want to do your job.”

Sentinel strutted out of the room, leaving Optimus staring at an empty seat and feeling like he really needed to go out and have a drink with someone – anyone. But as he reached for the communicator, he realized he didn’t have anyone to actually call. Ratchet had detached himself from Optimus the moment he was given leave, and left to become a simple medic in a city far from this one, Arcee at his side. Bumblebee was in training, and Bulkhead had been quick to follow. Jazz was… well, Optimus didn’t know Jazz that well at all, and his laid back nature always put Optimus on edge. There was something so superficial in the way Jazz talked, the way he interacted – he seemed to hold everyone at arm’s length.

Optimus couldn’t help but feel that, if he asked any of them for company, he would feel intrusive – they would make him feel intrusive. He pulled his hand back, briefly, before he turned his monitor back on. The florescent lights of Megatron’s cell winked again before dimming for the night shift. Megatron’s optics were visible in the growing dark – small, relaxed lines of crimson. Shockwave’s singular optic was bright, attentive as he kneeled at Megatron’s feet, and Optimus could just barely make out a glint of metal as Megatron’s hand moved to slide idly over an antenna.

Quickly, almost angrily, Optimus shut off the monitor again, climbing to his feet. He knew he shouldn’t feel jealous of Megatron of all mechs, but at least Megatron had someone – who would have Optimus called on in the past? Prowl? Elita? Even Sentinel?

His feet carried him along the familiar halls of the Elite Guard headquarters, down into the lower decks where Ultra Magnus remained in stasis. Ultra Magnus had had no visitors, no one had signed in or tried to see him since he was injured. Optimus had surprised himself, as well as the receptionist who admitted him, when he asked to spend time with Ultra Magnus. It would still be a while before their leader would be out of his forced stasis – his spark was still so weak.

Optimus sat at his side, and spoke only briefly in greeting. Ultra Magnus was silent, and only the soft beep of life support systems responded.

Optimus convinced himself that he did not need a response. His hand rested on Ultra Magnus’ arm gently, and he shuttered his optics. He imagined, perhaps, that he loved Ultra Magnus as a leader, as his leader, and that he was fulfilled simply by being there. It was a lie, of course, but a pleasant thing to consider. It occurred to Optimus that, really, his desire was selfish – and perhaps that was the difference between himself and Megatron. Decepticons were, by default, selfish mechs, wanting everything for themselves… and they were condemned for it.

Optimus considered contacting Sentinel and ordering him to have a drink with him – he considered contacting any of his friends and demanding them. He imagined what it would be like to expect them to give him their company merely because he wanted them to. But he stopped himself – he wasn’t ready to make such demands. Even considering it filled him with guilt.

Still, it would be difficult to forget what Megatron inexplicably had that Optimus lacked. Despite having torn everything away from Megatron, the Decepticon still had something more valuable than Optimus did.

“It is lonely, isn’t it,” said Optimus to Ultra Magnus – not as a question, but as a simple observation.