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It was nights like this one that made Knock Out miss Breakdown the most.
The Nemesis was cruising low in the atmosphere, the engines a constant thrumming. When Knock Out and Breakdown had first come to the warship, the medic had found it difficult to recharge with the unfamiliar noise; he'd curled as close to Breakdown as he possibly could and laid his helm against the larger mech's chestplates, focusing on the beating of Breakdown's spark. Knock Out had fallen into recharge this way many nights, until gradually the ship's sounds became white noise, soothing background murmurs he'd grown accustomed to over the passage of time. Now the medic couldn't imagine living without it.
Knock Out lay on his back in the large berth, wide awake. He'd found it increasingly hard to get adequate amounts of recharge since Breakdown had been gone. The medic was all too painfully aware of himself being alone in the wide berth that had only recently held both of them. His optics stared up at the ceiling of the quarters he had shared with Breakdown and were now solely his, tracing the patterns of the faintly illuminated glowlights he kept on through the nighttime hours. He listened to the thrumming of the warship's engines absently and the sound brought the memories back full force.
It was the deepest part of night, when most of the Nemesis and its resident army were tucked in their berths, recharging peacefully. Knock Out was tired and frustrated; it had been several joors since he'd climbed into his own berth and tried to get comfortable. He had so far failed miserably. He'd spent the time tossing and turning and shuffling, unable to find rest even though his systems cried out for it.
It had been a long day and Knock Out had kept busy in the med bay, beginning work early and ending late in the hopes that working himself to the brink of exhaustion would bring some much-needed solid, uninterrupted recharge that night. Obviously, he had been wrong.
Beside him, Breakdown slumbered peacefully, intakes snoring ever so slightly. Knock Out tried to lay still and focus on the sound, on the reassuring presence next to him. A minute passed before he could lay still no longer and shifted about again, heaving a sigh. Breakdown moved then, a slow stretching of his limbs. Knock Out froze, hoping he hadn't woke his friend. A moment of stillness, then Breakdown rolled over and fixed his golden optics on Knock Out.
“Can't sleep again, eh?”
“I'm sorry I woke you,” Knock Out murmured, not meeting the bigger bot's optics.
“It's fine,” Breakdown assured him, reaching out to touch Knock Out's cheek and turning his helm toward him. Slowly, Knock Out's gaze lifted and he looked at Breakdown.
“Didn't I tell you to wake me up next time you couldn't recharge?” the blue and silver mech demanded quietly.
“Well...I guess so,” Knock Out admitted sheepishly, squirming ever so slightly under his partner's scrutiny. Breakdown could always do that to him, make him a nervous, inarticulate heap of metal.
Breakdown nodded smartly. “That's what I thought. So don't worry about it. Come here.” He reached over and took Knock Out into his strong arms, drawing the smaller mech close to his chassis. Knock Out instantly relaxed, savoring the feeling of being held, cradled against warm plating, safe and secure. Always in Breakdown's embrace, the medic felt he could let his concerns drift away and stop worrying about everything that went on in his med bay and throughout the Nemesis on a daily basis. He snuggled closer to Breakdown and sighed in relief.
“Isn't that better?” Breakdown asked and Knock Out could hear the smile in his voice.
“Yes,” Knock Out answered in a whisper, already dropping off toward recharge.
Breakdown chuckled softly. “What would you do without me?”
The question poked a stab of fear at Knock Out's spark, just like the thought always did of life without Breakdown. “I don't know what I'd do without you,” Knock Out replied in complete, utter honesty.
“Well, I'm not going anywhere any time soon,” Breakdown murmured. “I promise.” His lips pressed a gentle kiss to Knock Out's helm. “I love you, you know.”
Those words seemed to echo in Knock Out's memory, bringing a jolt of pain to his spark. He would never hear those words again, not in Breakdown's deep voice. And the medic wasn't so sure he wanted to hear them from anyone else. Knock Out realized his optics were brimming with coolant and he reached up to swipe away a tear as it spilled over and slid down his cheek.
Though some time had passed since Breakdown's death, the wound was still fresh and the pain ran deep. During the day, Knock Out could keep busy and his tasks distracted him, but at night there was nothing to curb the flow of his thoughts and Breakdown filled his mind. It was at night that he missed the big bot so acutely he wished he could tear out his own spark to stop the hurt. He knew it wasn't seemly for a Decepticon to feel this way, but he just couldn't smother the torrent of emotions.
Decepticons weren't supposed to be sentimental, weren't supposed to love. But Knock Out couldn't deny that he had loved Breakdown. Still loved him.
They had been together for many decacycles by the time they had made their way to the Nemesis. Knock Out knew he wasn't always the most reasonable of mechs and that dealing with him on a daily basis had its own unique set of frustrations. He also knew he had put Breakdown through a lot over those vorns; the anger, the jealousy, the possessiveness, all the fights. But there had been good times too, when they had laughed together, supported each other's endeavors, or simply just enjoyed one another's company. And then there had been the interfacing...Knock Out sighed appreciatively.
At least there had been enough good points about their long relationship to make Breakdown stay like he had. The big mech had often told the sleek red medic that he loved Knock Out just the way he was, for everything he was and everything he wasn't. That kind of all-encompassing love was hard to come by.
Knock Out suddenly felt achingly alone in the large berth. He rose swiftly and headed for the door to their—his--quarters and stepped quickly into the corridor, the portal hissing shut behind him. He'd taken to doing this often; when the memories struck and he couldn't find recharge he took to the empty halls and chambers of the warship, wandering aimlessly until the sun rose up in the eastern sky. Anything to escape Breakdown's ghost.
The medic's steps were soft as he set off down the hall in the officer's wing. Dim purple lights glowed overhead as he passed Soundwave's quarters, then Dreadwing's, then the empty suite of rooms which had been Starscream's before he had deserted. Finally, he passed Lord Megatron's door and continued on into the main corridor. Knock Out walked with no particular direction, no destination in mind. He went wherever his steps took him. Which happened to be the dining hall adjacent to the cafeteria. As soon as he entered, Knock Out had it in his processor to get himself a cube of Energon, maybe heat it up and throw in a few spices. As a medic, he knew all the right concoctions to induce recharge, something which he desperately needed.
He cut around the edge of the dining hall and slipped through the doorway into the back of the cafeteria. He had to be quiet in here; if anyone happened to hear him and came to investigate, he would likely have to face an unpleasant reprimand from Lord Megatron in the morning. The army was still under a strict rationing rule, meaning that midnight snacks like this were forbidden.
Knock Out got a cube of Energon out of the refresher unit and put it aside on the counter; the softly glowing blue fuel cast just enough light to see by as he dug out his chosen spices and added them to the Energon. Then he put the cube in the heating unit and waited for a klik. The liquid was gently steaming when he removed it. Quickly and carefully, he put everything back as it was, grabbed the cube and headed out the door, intending to return to his quarters to sip on his fuel.
Only to run right into Lord Megatron.
Knock Out stifled a yelp of surprise and just managed to avoid slopping the warm Energon all over his master's chestplates.
“L-Lord Megatron!” the medic spluttered in panic. “I'm so sorry, my liege! Please excuse me!” This was far worse than being discovered by a Vehicon sentry or one of his fellow officers; mentally, he braced himself for the warlord's scalding outburst. When a moment passed and none came, he dared to glance up at his master questioningly. This was highly irregular; Megatron's anger was always swift.
The expression on Megatron's faceplates was one of weariness, as if he hadn't gotten any decent recharge in as many nights as Knock Out. “Relax, Knock Out,” Megatron rumbled with a slight sigh. “I'm too tired to care what you're doing here.” His optics flicked to the cube in Knock Out's hand. “Besides, it appears we have had the same idea.”
“Then by all means, allow me to get out of your way,” Knock Out said briskly, stepping aside quickly. He was hoping he could still beat a hasty retreat before his luck ran out.
“Actually, Knock Out, since you're here, would you mind spicing a cube for me?” Megatron asked, catching the smaller mech off-guard.
“Um...certainly, my liege.” Knock Out placed his cube on the nearest table and headed back into the cafeteria, all too aware of Megatron trailing along behind him. “What would you like?”
“I'll have whatever you're having,” Megatron rumbled. “I assume you're here because you can't get any rest?”
Knock Out paused for a beat as he reached back into the cabinet for the spices. “Yes,” he murmured quietly.
“You haven't been your usual snarky, flamboyant self lately,” Megatron said suddenly, catching his subordinate by surprise. Knock Out straightened and turned to the refresher for a cube, quickly trying to smother his sudden embarrassment. He didn't reply until he'd deposited the Energon on the counter beside the spices.
“Yes, well I'm unaccustomed to being alone,” he said without meeting Megatron's gaze. He knew his master understood perfectly well what he was referring to. Megatron wasn't stupid. There was a thoughtful silence as Knock Out opened the cube and methodically added the spices, one after another, before proceeding to heat the Energon. When he was finished, he passed the fuel to the warlord, who took it without a word. Knock Out cleaned up quickly and found himself waiting to be dismissed.
Megatron appeared to be lost in thought; no words seemed to be forthcoming. After a few kliks, Knock Out began to fidget and decided he should say something. He was anxious about disturbing Megatron, but he fervently wanted nothing more than his cube and his berth, however empty it may be.
Summoning his courage, he opened his mouth. “Lord Megatron? If I may be excused?”
The sound of his voice seemed to jolt Megatron out of whatever stupor he had been in. The medic could visibly see the old mech coming back to himself and the present world, as if shaking himself awake from a dream. “Of course, of course. You're dismissed, Knock Out. Thank you.” The warlord still sounded vaguely distracted, a faraway glint in his optics that Knock Out had never seen before.
Knock Out slipped past his master and retrieved his cube where he'd left it on the nearest table. Dipping a clawed fingertip into it experimentally, he was pleased to find that it was still pleasantly warm. He headed for the door but didn't make it more than a few steps when Megatron's voice stopped him, ringing out in the silence of the cavernous room.
“I'm sorry about Breakdown.”
Knock Out's entire body froze and he found that he was clutching his cube tightly. He forced his fingers to loosen. No need to crush the thin metal of the container and make a mess. His grip slackened but the rest of his frame remained tense. He had never spoken with anyone about Breakdown's death or how it had effected him and Megatron was the last bot he would have expected to bring it up.
After a long moment of casting about for something appropriate to say, Knock Out finally opted for the most basic response possible. “Thanks.” He didn't move, wondering if the other mech would say anything more. The silence was heavy and thick between them. Just when it seemed Megatron had nothing else to add, he spoke again, more softly this time.
“I'm not good with condolences, as I'm sure you know. But I know what it's like to miss someone so much you can barely go on living without them.”
Knock Out couldn't believe his audials. It was hard to fathom the idea that Megatron had ever really cared for anyone but himself. Even more surprising was the fact that he was admitting this to Knock Out, who certainly wasn't Megatron's favorite officer by any stretch of the imagination. Was this really happening? The medic dared to turn around slowly, his optics finding Megatron. The warlord hadn't moved from the doorway to the cafeteria, still holding his Energon in one hand staring down into its glowing blue depths ponderously. This was certainly not typical Megatron behavior.
“Are you feeling alright, my lord?” Knock Out couldn't help but ask. Immediately, he regretted the words. They made him sound like an ungrateful aft. He cringed, waiting for the nasty retort which was sure to come.
Megatron's response was shockingly mild. “I am fine, Knock Out. Just dwelling on the past.” His optics raised to look at the medic, a small wry smile tugging at his lips. “I know what you're thinking. When have I ever truly cared for another? But I was a different mech once, long ago.”
“I think we were all different before this damned war,” Knock Out said by way of agreement. He sighed. “Sometimes I really hate it.”
“I find that I have grown weary of constant warfare, as well,” Megatron admitted. “But the Autobots are not so easily beaten.” Knock Out nodded but said nothing. It seemed Megatron wished to talk and Knock Out had no wish to interrupt. Actually, he was rather curious as to what else his master might reveal. He waited, his Energon forgotten as it slowly grew cool in his hand.
“I have had many regrets over the vorns,” Megatron murmured, once again looking down at his cube. “Things I wish I had done differently. But nothing pains me as much as losing the bots I cared about.”
Knock Out averted his gaze. “I'm sorry, my liege,” he whispered, spark heavy.
“No need for that,” Megatron advised. “Not all of them are dead. But know that I well understand your pain. Especially on a night such as this.”
“It is a good night for reminiscing,” Knock Out agreed with a ghost of a chuckle.
“You should return to your quarters and rest,” Megatron said in a more stern tone. “We go to battle in two cycles' time and I will need you at your best both on the field and in the med bay.”
Knock Out was about to turn away when a sudden thought gave him pause. “My lord?”
“Yes, Knock Out?”
“Forgive me for asking, sir, but you said not all of the bots you cared for are dead. Do you have someone waiting for you when this war is over?”
Megatron looked up and smiled a bit, sadly. Yet there was a glint of hope deep in his optics, something else Knock Out had never seen before. “If this mech will have me...” he mused. “There is much that will need to be forgiven. But we will see.”
Knock Out didn't quite know what to make of this cryptic response. He certainly hadn't expected a straight answer but he was more curious than ever. Who could mean so much to Megatron? And who could ever have the capacity to possibly forgive him for the horrendous deeds he'd committed, and the ones he had yet to commit, throughout the long course of the war? There were many unanswered questions; at least they would give him something to think about besides Breakdown.
Knock Out slipped away to the doorway, content with the knowledge that he wasn't the only Decepticon who missed someone. He was about to step through into the corridor when Megatron's voice came one last time.
“Good night, Knock Out.”
Knock Out smiled once, briefly. “Good night, my lord.”