A/N: Just an idea that came to me the other day and I decided to write it out. Soundwave is a fascinating character, one of my favorites in fact, but never seems to get much attention. I hope I did him justice.
Warning: Contains breif mentions of self-harm, but nothing severe.
Disclaimer: Soundwave, Transformers, and all related characters are the sole property of Hasbro and Takara. I claim no ownership.
EDIT: Fixed some formatting the site got rid of to improve the flow of the story.
It must have been one of the Autobots' greatest achievements, Soundwave mused from his position on the hard floor. They had managed to put the spymaster into emergency stasis lock when a well aimed missile had detonated immediately next to his helm. He now found himself in an eerily quiet cell in the Ark's brig.
Still not fully onlined, he sat up slowly and began to assess his situation. Soundwave's helm throbbed, but his diagnostic systems did not function properly, leaving him unsure exactly how much damage he had sustained.
Soundwave's servos lifted to feel his helm. All external damage seemed to be repaired, though his mask and visor had been removed, exposing his scarred facial plates. He was more annoyed than anything, until his fingers brushed his left audio.
Startled, both of Soundwave's servos flew to the left side of his helm, and then the right. All thoughts of escape left the mech's processor as the usually well-organized thoughts gave way to a rare and chaotic fear. The explosion must have been too close, too loud. He was deaf.
After a moment of stunned panic and frantic rubbing of his audios, Soundwave calmed himself. Though unnerving, this new discovery was just another annoyance. He would still be capable of escaping. He had gotten out of far worse situations, and he could get out of this one.
Soundwave stood, stepping across the small cell to stand before the energy bars that held him within. A single guard, the red mech by the name of Sideswipe, stood sentry over the brig. A mistake on the Autobots' part that Soundwave would be sure to exploit.
Sideswipe, who had been blankly staring at the wall in front of him, seemed to feel Soundwave's gaze and looked over. His bored expression turned into a broad smirk and he opened his mouth, no doubt jeering at the Decepticon.
Soundwave, not wanting to advertise his condition, glared at the young mech, whose bravery crumbled under the gaze. He said something else, followed by what Soundwave assumed was a nervous chuckle. The spymaster remained silent.
Sideswipe, evidently trying to hide his obvious anxiety with anger, spoke once more, now with a deep scowl on his facial plates. He stepped towards Soundwave's cell, gripping his rifle tightly.
The Decepticon cursed himself when he realized that Sideswipe was expecting an answer. Said mech, appearing genuinely angry at Soundwave's silence, approached until he nearly brushed the energy bars, stared up at the taller mech, and began to yell.
Unable to hear the tirade, Soundwave's expression changed from detached to uncomfortable to downright confused. Sideswipe, finally seeming to realize something was amiss, trailed off and his expression conveyed the uncertainty that Soundwave felt himself.
His mouth plate formed another few sentences then stilled, probably waiting for a response. When he received none he placed a servo to the side of his helm and spoke once more, this time over a commlink. He paused to listen, spoke again, nodded, and lowered his servo. Now looking almost concerned, he began to say something to Soundwave but trailed off again and shook his helm while stepping away from the cell.
Soundwave cursed his luck and moved back to the far wall. After a few cycles, Ratchet entered the brig carrying a med kit. He walked up to Soundwave's cell and began to speak to the Decepticon, a thoughtful if somewhat anxious look on his facial plates.
When Soundwave merely looked bewildered, Ratchet signaled to Sideswipe, who powered down the energy bars just long enough for the medic to step into the cell. Soundwave dropped into a battle stance instinctively, but slowly returned to a calm posture once Ratchet made a pacifying gesture. Still distrustful, he reluctantly allowed the medic to approach.
The Autobot took Soundwave's helm in one servo and gently rotated it to one side, holding a scanner to the taller mech's audio. Frowning, he scanned the other audio as well before releasing Soundwave, who looked forward again. Putting the scanner down, Ratchet snapped his fingers first next to the spymaster's left audio then next to the right. There was no reaction.
The white mech frowned, signaling to Sideswipe to let him out of the cell before he said something over a comm line.
It only took about a cycle for Optimus Prime himself to enter the brig. He stood before Ratchet, listening to the medic's explanation. He then stepped towards the only occupied cell.
Soundwave's golden optics narrowed at the Autobots' commander. The sworn enemy of his Lord and Master Megatron, the Prime was one of only two mechs who had the stoic communication officer's contempt. The other was Starscream.
Prime stood before the energy bars. With his battle mask, Soundwave could not even tell if he was speaking or just contemplating.
Regardless, after a few kliks the red mech seemed to make up his mind and turned to Ratchet, who began saying something a moment later. He paused, then exclaimed something, looking startled, before giving a resigned nod and pulling a data pad out of his subspace. He typed something on it, then handed it to Prime, who in turn passed it between the energy bars to Soundwave.
Reluctantly, the blue mech took the proffered data pad from Prime and looked down at it. Your audios appear to have been disabled from the blast that put you into stasis, it read. They are probably damaged internally, leaving you deafened.
Soundwave found himself irritated by the platitude, and glared at the medic.
"Assessment: Obvious," he droned, though he was only able to hope the words he could not hear came out coherently. "Inquiry: At what time will Autobot Ratchet repair damage?" He held out the data pad.
Prime took it, but instead of giving it to Ratchet began typing himself. Soundwave snatched it away from the Autobot the moment he was finished.
Your audios are too delicate to be repaired and must be replaced. However, as the Autobots do not currently have the needed replacement parts or any means to acquire them, no repairs can be made at this time.
Soundwave, taken aback, stared up at Prime. The Autobot had lied, he was certain of it. He had seen Hook, who was not nearly as skilled a surgeon as the Autobots' Ratchet, repair audios almost flawlessly, and rudimentary replacements were easy enough for a medic to assemble in a pinch.
But lie or not, Prime's meaning was clear. Soundwave would not be allowed to hear again.
Nine solar cycles had passed since his capture, but Soundwave was still captive. He had already attempted to escape twice, but both times was recaptured by Autobots who were able to sneak up on him. That was certainly something no bot had ever succeeded in before.
His cell was now guarded by at least three mechs at all times and had several security cameras trained on it.
The blue mech hated to admit it, but those escape attempts had been pathetic. He found himself becoming nervous, something uncharacteristic for the stoic spymaster. The silence, though relaxing for the first few breems, had quickly become unnerving. It served as a constant distraction, not allowing him to formulate any practical plan of action.
Soundwave had taken to rubbing his audios with his servos while he sat thinking. He would start doing it on one side, not consciously realizing until he began trying the other side as well. Even then he wouldn't pay the action much mind, but eventually his thoughts strayed until he could only focus on scraping his palms across his audios, desperately trying to hear some noise, any noise.
First Aid had been coming to his cell for the past few solar cycles, typing to Soundwave on data pads to try distracting him from his plight, but the Decepticon would have none of it. He read the data pad the first time the young medic had come in, but refused to respond. After that he hardly even looked at the messages.
Soundwave's need for stimulation only increased the longer he remained in the brig. The rubbing of his audios had turned to clawing after twenty-six solar cycles, and Ratchet had had to restrain him after he began to make himself bleed.
His guards, who now numbered five, constantly gave him pitying looks. They could see the unease on his scarred facial plates, the desperation in his brilliant golden optics.
He found himself grateful that his creations could not see him now. They could no doubt feel his desperation over the family spark bond, but they were too far away for any real communication except for nudges of emotion. They had sent him waves of comfort in response to his misery, but he could not help but feel ashamed that he allowed himself to show such weakness. None of them, not even Rumble and Frenzy, reciprocated the feeling.
Despite their attempts to comfort Soundwave, he could feel their own tumultuous emotions. Ravage was exhausted, trying to act as a parental figure for her siblings in their creator's absence. Rumble and Frenzy were angry, probably with Megatron who no doubt thought Soundwave capable of escaping on his own. Laserbeak was frustrated with the other Decepticons, and Buzzsaw was trying to soothe her. And Ratbat, still just a youngling, was sad and confused, wondering where his creator had gone.
He could only send them waves of reassurance and love, calm and security. He tried not to let his growing hopelessness seep through.
This had to be the greatest indignity he had ever experienced. Almost two orbital cycles and Prime still would not budge and allow the medics to work on him. Except, of course, to restrain him. He had given up trying to escape and spent his time attempting to create some sound. When he started banging his helm against the wall they moved him into the med bay.
That was where he was now. Strapped down to the berth, he lay in silence. Everything was all-consuming silence.
First Aid had kept on trying to distract him, but it was useless. Even if he did decide to read the medic's words, it wasn't like he could ever forget.
Any noise would be welcome. He would be thrilled with even Starscream's screeches or Lord Megatron's roar of fury. Pit, senseless static would be better than this.
The quiet was chaotic. He actively sought it out when he was off-duty on the Nemesis, but now...
He attempted to ground himself. He tried to relive his fondest memories. Ravage purring when he scratched just the right spot behind her ears, Rumble and Frenzy laughing triumphantly at a completed video game, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw cawing appreciatively at some new music he had found for them. Little Ratbat's squeals of happiness almost every time his creator came in sight…
…No. He could not allow himself to dwell on such thoughts. He had accepted the fact that he would not leave this place, and had blocked his end of the bond to spare his creations from his sorrow. He was no longer the proud Decepticon warrior he once was. Just a useless old mech rotting on a medical berth.
Emptiness. That was all he knew. Just an orange ceiling and four orange walls and bots coming to stare at him but it was all empty and silent. His mind had slipped away from him, with no new data to process and no sounds to pull him out of his stupor.
Just blank, empty, tortuous quiet.
The young one had given up trying to send him messages. He couldn't bring himself to care to remember what the mech's designation was. Not like he would ever hear the words spoken again.
An old white bot came in with a cube of fuel. The old one offered it to him. He did not react. The old one waited for a response, gave up, and instead injected the fuel into his arm. He had lost track of how many times this silent ritual had played out.
He felt a tugging at his spark, someone trying to get his attention. He thought he knew who it was, but he wouldn't let himself remember. It would be too painful.
The room moved around him, shaking violently and noiselessly. Mechs scurried to and fro, mutely shouting, bending over bleeding comrades. Utter chaos surrounding him matched the utter chaos in his mind.
He did not care. Nothing around him really existed, or it would not be so silent.
The mechs around him became more panicked. Bursts of light blossomed around him. Those still standing tried to shield the others.
To one side, he saw new mechs enter the room. They were of darker color, and they released the bursts of light that so terrified the ones who kept him here.
A gray one, larger than the others, came to him. The facial plates bore a furious look until the mech saw him. The expression changed, the snarl replaced with surprise and relief.
The old white mech tried pushing him elsewhere, but the gray one threw him away. Red optics met golden, gray lips parted in silent words. He looked up at the gray one confusedly, scarred facial plates forming a frown.
The gray one bent, and lifted him over a strong shoulder. He let himself lose consciousness, and the world became dark and, finally, peaceful.
He came online slowly, and found himself staring at a dark purple ceiling. Several small bots lay on top of and around him. It took him a moment to organize his thoughts enough to recognize them.
They were his creations, his sparklings, his precious little princes and princesses. He mentally slapped himself for not realizing immediately and gathered them in his arms, tearing down the barrier he had created in his spark. They returned his embrace eagerly and they stayed like that for some time.
He never noticed the green and purple mech in the room, not until others entered.
The gray mech, his rescuer, walked into the room, followed by a smaller red and blue one. Lord Megatron, he recognized at last, approached him, looking concerned. He opened his mouth and began to speak. He was not sure, but he thought he could almost hear him.
The red and blue one, Starscream if his rapidly clearing processor was to be trusted, gave Lord Megatron a disbelieving look and said something himself.
The words were lost on Soundwave, but the harsh screeching voice itself was clearly audible. It was one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.
A/N: And there you have it. I'm not quite sure I'm happy with the ending, but I think I did better on the rest of it. Regardless, constructive criticism is appreciated!
Thanks for reading!