Chapter Text
Futility,
Uselessness,
Aimless,
Meaningless,
'You're a failure...'
Emptiness,
Hollowness,
'She's gone...'
'You could've protected her...'
Gap,
'...but you pushed her away'
Hole,
Vacuum,
Void,
Abyss...
'This is your fault. It always is.'
No light,
No flame,
No warmth,
No sun,
No glow,
No glimmer,
No hope,
'You deserve this, unlike she did.'
'You did this.'
'This is your fault.'
'YOUR fault!'
The mech jolted up from his nightamare-full recharge.
He was met with the ceiling staring down at him. Frowning, he looked around. For a moment, a brief moment,everything felt like a dream.
But when the emptiness of the room became apparent, he once again had to face the hard reality.
His (Y/N) was gone, and may never return to him.
- Megatron
The bridge was quiet due to the lack of activity. Out of the many work stations along the sides of the room, all but four were unoccupied. Outside, the world was grey. The lack of skylight only added to the somber gloom that had overtaken the Decepticon ship.
The halls were empty. The rooms were unkempt. There was no-one around. They were all out seeking resources. Energon, metallico, iron, steel– all for what they could only hope would be the Decepticons' biggest project yet.
Yet…
Their leader stood, cold eyes glaring at the clouds. He appreciated the silence. It was a good idea to send out all the troops on a milk run, for if he had to receive one more worried glance, or one more word of sympathy, or hear your name uttered one more time…
Megatron sighed.
He may as well quit his brooding and go spend some time with you.
- Starscream
The seeker mumbled to himself as he threw yet another plush blanket into the almost completely full "box-of-things-he-didn't-have-to-see-ever-again".
By now Starscream had been able to painstakingly gather up all your things and put them into a big container. Most of the things he was glad to get rid off (they were cluttering up the place), but some…
Some of the things he wished he could keep, like your video camera (which still held your Godzilla movie staring him) or the 50th issue of that comic book you so adored or…
His digits gingerly took up the thin fabric of your holi scarf. That day was one of the best in his long life. The colours and music and people all came together to create a n amazing memory.
Yet you were the most vivid memory of them all.
Slowly, the bright fabric was brought to his face. It still held your sweet scent. Starscream closed his optics and, for the briefest of moments, he could imagine you clutched in his servos.
Perhaps he should give the box to the Autobots during his next visit. They might find a use for all these human things.
But he will keep the scarf.
- Soundwave
He felt guilty each time he did this.
Whilst the others escaped the harsh reality for the nightmarish ones while they recharged, Soundwave took to the skies.
They were all worried– his children. They would all send him glances. They may not have realised that he knew that they took turns to keep an optic on him. The twins would make jokes in an attempt to cheer him up; Lazerbeak and Ratbat would fly about and help him as much as possible with his daily activities; and Ravage took care of them all.
Soundwave smiled. How much he loved them. His family.
The clouds departed in wispy swirls, revealing the full moon in all her wonder.
The mech's mood became the bright heavenly body's opposite as his mind wandered to you. Your eyes had shone just as radiantly, but now...
"Promise: No-one will ever hurt family again."
- Knockout
More notes were scribbled down as the doctor feverishly worked. Observation after trial after new plan, he did his best to come up with something that would work.
But nothing did.
The mech moved from one side of the room to the other, making slight changes in hopes of seeing any improvements in his patient's condition, finding none, and then hurrying back to the drawing board.
The notepad was thrown down onto the table. With a frustrated groan, Knockout grabbed his helm.
Why won't anything work?
He grit his denta, desperation clawing at his spark. He couldn't do his job successfully. Why? Why couldn't he be good enough?
His servos started to shake, forcing him to steady the one with the other.
He was exhausted.
He was hungry.
He was desperate.
- Breakdown
Steve sighed as he sat beside the lifeless Cybertronian form before him. The vehicon looked it over, feeling the same grief he had felt the day they lost you anew.
"Hey… Sorry for not coming sooner. We were held up by Breakdown. He was having another tantrum." Steve chuckled bitterly. "He's become so… angry." A clawed servo was gently laid on the other Cybertronian's.
It was so cold, but some of Steve's warmth heated the cool metal.
For a few brief moments, his hud scanned over the body. The wounds were all closed up; the dents buffed out, and yet, as perfect as it all was, you never talked back.
"I wished you were here. You would've known how to help him." With great reluctance, Steve pulled back and stood up. "He's hurting, (Y/N)." The door swished open. "He lost himself on you."
The entrance closed.
- Predaking
Never did Shockwave think he would see three beings in such mourning as his three reincarnated creations.
Little was left to know on predacons and their ancient ways– the power that used destruction to rid of the past had tried to leave none of the future, and almost succeeded were it not for the Decepticon scientist's genius.
Predacons rose once again in the form of three varying sized mechs, each carefully constructed from the slithers of their ancient CNA. From them, the secrets of ancient Cybertron slowly came to light. They must be studied.
The one optic-ed mech hummed as he looked each of the three remaining predacons over. And, as was expected, Predaking was most distant. The eldest and leader of the group sat idly, keeping an eye on the others, yet his mind was obviously elsewhere. The other two, though less brooding, also gave off a sad aura.
Shockwave observed and wrote his findings down. 'The predacons were a people,' he returned to his work as his processor started coming up with explanations for each little character adjustment he noted. He was the first scientist to study predacon behaviour: he might as well do it correctly.
'And as it were at that time, they were a people in grieving.'