The medbay was quiet.

Knock Out worked with delicate precision, patching a gouge in Soundwave’s shoulder plating from the last battle. Sparks hissed softly where his welding tool kissed the dented armor.

“You’ve been… distracted,” Knock Out said casually, visor tilted. “And that’s saying something for you.”

Soundwave didn’t answer.

Knock Out smirked faintly. “Let me guess — it’s got something to do with our great and terrible leader?”

Soundwave’s visor flickered, a tiny spike on his display betraying him. “…No comment.”

“That’s practically a confession,” Knock Out replied, sealing the repair with a smooth pass of his tool. “So, what’s the problem? He finally say something to make that spark of yours skip a pulse?”

Soundwave’s servos tightened against the medbay table. He didn’t want to say it aloud. Not here. Not anywhere.

But the words slipped through in a modulated whisper. “I do not know if his… statements… were truth. Or tactic.”

Knock Out’s optics softened slightly. “You think he might be playing you for the sake of the war.”

“Yes.”

Knock Out leaned against the table, folding his arms. “And you’re scared to find out.”

Soundwave tilted his head sharply toward him, visor glowing a little brighter. “Clarification: Not fear. Caution.”

“Mmhmm,” Knock Out hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Look, I get it. You’ve built your whole existence around serving him. If it turns out he’s just using you… that’s not just heartbreak — that’s a system crash.”

Silence.

Knock Out tapped his claws against the counter thoughtfully. “You know how I met Breakdown?”

Soundwave stayed still, but the faint shift of his shoulders signaled listening.

“Beginning of the war,” Knock Out began. “We were both fresh to the Decepticons. I was patching him up after some pit-fight training went wrong. I didn’t think much of him at first — big, loud, kind of an oaf. But then… something clicked. Between battles, between all the scrap and chaos, we just… found each other. And once I realized it was real, I didn’t wait around for someone else to tell me.”

Soundwave processed that quietly.

Knock Out’s tone dropped to something gentler. “You could spend vorns wondering if Megatron’s spark beats for you — or you could find out. And if you do, and it’s real, you might actually have something in this pit of a war worth keeping.”

“And if it is not real?” Soundwave asked.

Knock Out shrugged. “Then you’ll know. And you can decide what to do from there. But at least you won’t be stuck in the static.”

The room hummed softly, medbay lights flickering overhead.

Soundwave said nothing for a long moment, visor dimmed in thought.

Finally, he stood from the table, repairs complete. “Acknowledged.”

Knock Out smiled knowingly. “You’re going to test him, aren’t you?”

Soundwave didn’t answer.

But as he walked out of the medbay, his processors were already running simulations — scenarios where he and Megatron would be alone, away from the distractions of war, where the warlord’s words would have nowhere to hide.

Whether he should do it or not was still in question.

But Soundwave knew one thing.

He needed to know.

The night was cold by Cybertronian standards.

Far below the ridge, dim Autobot patrol lights moved through the ruins, but they were too far to detect the two figures standing in the shadows of a shattered tower.

Soundwave had chosen this location carefully — far from the main Decepticon encampment, under the guise of monitoring enemy comm-chatter.

Megatron stood beside him, arms crossed, optics scanning the horizon. His armor caught the faint glint of starlight, the deep gouges from battle still visible along his plating.

“Report,” Megatron said without looking at him.

“Enemy activity: Minimal,” Soundwave replied. Then he paused. “Request: Private discussion.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed slightly. “On what subject?”

“You.”

That earned him a turn of the head. Megatron studied him for a long moment before finally gesturing. “Proceed.”

Soundwave’s visor flickered, his voice level but deliberate. “Previous statements regarding… personal value. Clarification required. Was intention strategic, or genuine?”

Megatron’s gaze hardened instinctively — the warlord’s shield against anything that might resemble vulnerability. But the longer he looked at Soundwave, the more that defense faltered.

“I don’t waste words,” Megatron said finally. “You know that.”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave answered. “However… emotional context in wartime is subject to manipulation.”

Megatron’s optics flashed with something between irritation and discomfort. “You think I’m playing you for loyalty.”

“Possibility: High,” Soundwave said evenly. “You are capable of it.”

That struck deeper than Megatron expected. He took a step closer, his shadow falling across Soundwave’s frame. “Do you believe that’s all I am? A manipulator? A user of those closest to me?”

Soundwave hesitated — and that hesitation was answer enough.

Megatron turned away sharply, pacing a few steps before stopping at the ridge’s edge. He stared into the darkness. For cycles, he had known exactly who he was: a leader, a warrior, a revolutionary. Every bond was a weapon. Every attachment, a weakness.

But this…

He gripped the edge of the stone railing until it cracked under his hands.

“I’ve never…” His voice dropped, low and almost raw. “I’ve never felt this for anyone. Not before the war. Not during it. I don’t even know what to call it.”

Soundwave’s visor brightened faintly, tracking every subtle shift in his tone.

Megatron exhaled a deep vent of static, turning back to him. “Do you think I enjoy this uncertainty? That I take pleasure in questioning my own… function? This is not strategy, Soundwave. It’s… something else. Something I cannot control.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and electric.

Finally, Soundwave stepped forward, his voice quiet. “Then… prove it.”

Megatron’s optics locked with his. “And if I can’t?”

Soundwave’s answer came without hesitation. “Then I will know.”

For a moment, Megatron almost closed the distance between them. But he stopped — his fists tightening as if holding himself back from something irreversible.

Instead, he said, “I will prove it. Not in words. In time.”

Soundwave inclined his head. “Acknowledged.”

They stood there in the dark, neither moving, the battlefield far away — yet both knowing that the next steps they took, in war or in whatever this was, could change everything.