Therapy

Femme

I woke up confused, but the memory of being escorted to the hospital returned quickly. I was in a hospital bed, hooked up to a machine which was reading my CPU usage and pulse rate. The doctor walked through the door. What was his name again? Oh yes, Ratchet. He walked over to the CPU/spark monitor and stared at it for a couple of nanoclicks, before grunting and writing something down. I had learned that he tended to grunt a lot, and it didn't always mean something.

"So, howdya sleep?" His gruff voice sliced through my thoughts, commanding my attention.

"Oh, fine," I replied. But then again, this was the only time I remember sleeping. I didn't have a lot to compare last night's sleep to.

He replied with a grunt. How unexpected. "Well, I think I have someone here who can help you with your amnesia." I didn't notice anyone walk into the room, and I was sure no one was in here besides the two of us. So I looked around the room, and nearly had spark failure when I noticed a large blue mech standing motionless and completely silent in the corner of the room. I found myself slightly freaked out by his presence. Just how long had he been there? Maybe he slipped in when Ratchet walked into the room…

He seemed to realize that I had noticed him, and he stepped forward, with precise, quick, almost stiff movements. "Greetings." His monotone voice caught me off guard, and from that point on, I disliked this mech. "Designation; Soundwave. Identification."

My mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like a suffocating Sharkticon. Eventually, I found my voice. "Um, I don't know my name…" The mech seemed to straighten up even more. If that was even possible.

"Soundwave is our tele-therapist. He helps patients to recover lost memories," Ratchet said. I nodded and looked up at Soundwave. This guy was a therapist? He looked like he needed therapy of his own, what with the emotionless gaze.

"CPU state; perfectly functional." I quickly realized he was talking about himself. So that's what Ratchet meant by tele-therapist. He could read minds. I found myself wondering what else he could do.

Ratchet stood up. "Well, I'm gonna leave you two alone to get started, but I'll be monitoring you, so don't worry." The potbellied doctor stood up, took another look at my CPU/spark monitor, and sauntered out of the room. I watched him leave, and when I looked back, Soundwave had taken a seat, and still had his optics focused on mine.

He said, "We will start with your last memory," and then my vision blacked out, and the bed and the hospital room disappeared. I was falling again, hurtling toward Cybertron. The city lights spun around me, and as I flipped end over end, I noticed something weird in the sky above me. Then I hit the ground and the memory ended. Soundwave's optics burned into me even from behind the visor, and I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. "So you fell through a spacebridge." It was a statement, not a question, and I nodded. That must've been what that weird thing in the sky was.

"Do you have memories of parental units?" I shook my head. The next thing I knew, I felt him digging through my CPU like an accountant looking for lost files, but he backed out soon enough. I was left with a strange sensation, almost like I was punch-drunk. "Previous data confirmed non-existent." He leaned forward toward me. "Concentrate on something. Anything. Imagine it forming in front of you."

I didn't see where he was going with this, but he was the therapist, so I did as I was told. I powered my optics down, and focused on a cube of energon, imagined it forming in front of me. To my surprise, I felt energy being pulled from my spark, making its way down my arms, to my hands, where it… fizzled out. I powered up my optics. Nothing. Maybe I was fooling myself, there really was no power. That had to be it.

Soundwave stood up blood red optics still locked on mine. "Thank you for your time." Turning in a military fashion, he marched out the door, pulling it shut behind him, but it didn't close all the way. From my position on the bed, I could hear him talking with Ratchet outside.

"Test is complete; subject proven negative for Dreamweaver."

"What? Frag, I was sure of it. It all adds up, came out of nowhere, can't transform, unusual amount of energy radiating from her spark… Primus, even the paintjob is similar to what we thought it'd be. You're absolutely sure she couldn't…?"

"Test results negative."

At this point, I had stopped listening. Dreamweaver. It sounded so familiar, but I couldn't place where I had heard it before. Maybe it was my name? It sounded right. I couldn't be sure, but I needed to start calling myself something. The door creaked open, interrupting my thoughts.

"Miss, is there somewhere you can stay? You're in fit enough of a condition to leave." Ratchet called from the doorway.

"Um, is there any way you could contact a Probe from… uh, Southern Iacon?" I asked, hoping I had gotten the city right.

Ratchet smiled. "Is that the mech who brought you here?" I nodded. "He hasn't left the lobby since he dropped you off yesterday. He's been driving the receptionists crazy. I'm sure they'd love it if you got him to leave." The whole time he was saying this, he was unhooking all the machinery from me.

Free of the wires, I stood up. "I'd be happy to take him off your hands." I smiled at the medic, and walked out of the hospital room, but the moment I stepped into the hall, I felt optics on me. I turned around, and there was Soundwave, optics locked on me as if he wished to burn me with them. I couldn't help wondering if he knew more about me than he let on. He stood still as a statue, and, unnerved, I made my way toward the lobby.

Probe was sleeping in the lobby when I got there, sprawled across four chairs. One leg and arm each were hanging off the chairs, and a magazine was tented over his optics. I stepped over to him, and gently shook his shoulder. "Probe? Probe, wake up." He twitched, and the magazine fell off his face.

"Wha-? Oh, hey! They let'cha go?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stood up. "So did they… you know, help ya remember anything?" His accent was unlike anything I'd ever heard, and it made me smile.

"Actually, yes," I replied. "Now I know my name. Dreamweaver." The name rolled off my glossa just right, and it was then that I became sure that my name was Dreamweaver.

Probe smiled, and his stomach growled. His smile jumped to an expression of shock. "Oh, mech. Well, I guess it's time for breakfast anyways. Come on, I know a joint where we can get the best food. Can't survive on energon alone, ya know!" His servo moved toward mine, but then stopped, as if he was going to grab my servo but thought better of it. I didn't see any reason for him to be shy, so I grabbed his servo and let him lead me out of the building.