Chapter Three - An Adjustment of Plans
Author's notes: I owe a lot of responses to a lot of reviews. I'll work on that in the next few days. Wow. I was not expecting a response like this to this story!
He didn't understand.
Soundwave keened and scrambled across the ground to Frenzy, ignoring the fight that had erupted around him with reckless disregard for his own safety. His only focus was his last surviving symbiont.
Megatron barked a single short word that had to be, "Retreat!" even though it came across only as garbled static. The Autobots were shooting at the fleeing Decepticons, and he could hear report of a very large weapon, but he paid it no mind. Frenzy's presence in his spark was barely registering, a flickering and fading ghost of a bond. He would be utterly alone, but worse, Frenzy would not have the future that Soundwave dreamed for him.
No! You must live! Soundwave howled aloud, but the words only registered in his mind. He was screaming static.
Megatron's weapon had done a tremendous amount of damage to Frenzy's small body, searing and melting his internals. Energon from a multitude of severed lines sprayed over superheated plating, igniting as it did. Black smoke poured from his cassette's chest and out his mouth. That last sign was one he associated with swift death.
Soundwave crawled to him and quickly established that Frenzy's powerplant was destroyed past all hope of a quick field repair. More than mere moments without energy would permanently damage Frenzy's systems, perhaps cause him to offline forever, if the fire didn't kill him first ...
Ratchet appeared, a fire extinguisher in one hand and a pulse cannon (likely the weapon Soundwave had heard) in the other. He doused the flames, but his revealed more of Frenzy's injuries. When Soundwave saw the extent of the damage, he felt his hope fail him. Frenzy's tiny body had been truly shattered.
Somewhat to Soundwave's shock, Ratchet wasn't giving up. He seemed to know exactly what to do. The medic subspaced his rifle and worked with rapid, almost frantic fingers to stabilize Frenzy. First, he yanked two power leads out of his own arm and clipped them to the terminals of Frenzy's power plant. Then he looked up at Soundwave, who was crouched on his hands and knees next to the body, and - much to Soundwave's shock - produced a handful of clamps. He thrust the clamps into Soundwave's grasp and pointed imperiously at a leaking energon line on Soundwave's side of Frenzy's body.
They were alone; the other Autobots were pursuing the Decepticons. Those leaks had to be stopped. Asking Soundwave to work on his own cassette when Soundwave was barely able to sit upright without toppling was probably not at the top of Ratchet's best-medical-practices list, but Soundwave was the only possible help Ratchet had. And he did have an engineer's knowledge.
Soundwave blinked, took the hint and sealed the first major leak with a couple quick twists of the clamps around the damaged lines. It felt insanely good to have a simple, practical task to perform that was actually helping. It focused him and let him set aside his panic for the moment.
Live, he thought, to the shattered cassette on the ground. You must live. Frenzy was blessedly unconscious; he did not think he could do this if he was simultaneously dealing with howling agony being transmitted across their bond.
Ratchet, meanwhile, was starting an energon drip. Soundwave observed that there were numerous smaller leaks, and he decided to keep clamping off broken lines. Ratchet glanced up a couple of times at Soundwave, face an open mask of concern, but didn't try to stop him. After starting the drip, Ratchet began to tear out the destroyed power plant right then and there - Soundwave knew they couldn't move Frenzy without replacing it, or at least hooking him up to portable life support. He would be too unstable.
Optimus's shadow fell over them, and then he knelt beside Soundwave and produced some bags of medical grade energon from his subspace. Soundwave reflexively tensed - he'd never seen Optimus as anything but an enemy before, and his battle systems were fully engaged. He forced himself to remain calm and to keep working on the leaks.
Somewhat to Soundwave's disbelief, Optimus started hooking Frenzy up. He looked competent, too. Most soldiers knew basic field medicine, but Soundwave couldn't picture Megatron jumping in to help like this. However, Optimus was slower and larger than most of his soldiers, and Soundwave suspected that he'd been left behind in the pursuit of the airborn Decepticons by ground bound Autobots - or he had simply elected to stay behind so as not to slow them down. He was the only other Autobot in sight now.
Ratchet didn't seem surprised by the help from his leader. He paused only a nanoclick to thrust a vial of sedative at Optimus and snap something that sounded suspiciously like an order - which Optimus promptly followed. Soundwave understood the rational for a sedative and recognized the color of the liquid if not the label. They did not want Frenzy to come around right now, as he'd be in agony, and if he panicked and thrashed about, he could make the damage worse.
Then First Aid zoomed up, tires spinning on the dirt. He transformed, and Soundwave's relief was immense when he saw that First Aid was carrying parts in Frenzy's size.
Optimus tugged on Soundwave's shoulder, urging him to move back and let First Aid in. He was reluctant, but he cooperated after a moment. Both medics had expressions of matching grim determination. Optimus helped Soundwave to his feet, and gently guided him away.
It was the first time he'd ever been this close to the Prime. Optimus's grip was nearly as sure, and as professional, as Ratchet's was. He lowered Soundwave back to the ground twenty feet away, then, much to his surprise, Optimus sat in the dirt next to him.
When he looked away from Frenzy, and over at Optimus, the leader of the Autobots had retracted his battle mask. His expression was angry, and for a moment, Soundwave feared the anger was directed at him somehow. However, when Optimus realized that Soundwave was looking at him, his expression softened. He gripped Soundwave on the shoulder briefly, as if he was trying to be comforting.
The ... leader of the Autobots ... his sworn enemy ... was comforting him.
He didn't understand, and it had nothing to do with his damage, how they could be so kind to him. What did they want from him?
Once they were able to transport Frenzy back to the Arc, they worked on him for hours. Soundwave, however, was escorted back to the private med bay room. He was extremely reluctant to let Frenzy out of his sight, but a brief struggle with Optimus proved to him how pointless fighting was. He was, gently but firmly, put back in the locked private med bay room.
Somewhat to his surprise, an Autobot was assigned to sit with him - Prowl, who worked on a datapad in grim silence, and not looking at him. Later, Bluestreak relieved Prowl. Bluestreak chattered too-loudly for a few minutes, then fell into a distinctly more uncomfortable silence. The young soldier didn't seem to know what to do with himself. First he'd look at Soundwave, then pointedly avert his eyes. He fidgeted in place. A few times he asked short questions that Soundwave had no hope of answering.
Soundwave was too lost in his own thoughts to pay Bluestreak much attention.
After a bit, Bluestreak was replaced by Jazz, who turned on the monitor and tuned it to a station playing human music. Jazz, looking only a little worse for the wear, leaned back against the wall, offlined his optics, and seemed to be half asleep. Soundwave wasn't fooled. Jazz was one of the canniest, and the most dangerous, mechs he knew of.
When Prowl returned, he seemed indignant to find Jazz in the room. A brief argument ensued, then Jazz slunk off. Soundwave figured that Jazz was supposed to be off duty and resting. Why had Jazz come to watch him, then?
After a very long time, Ratchet opened the door. To Soundwave's immense and utter relief, the medic had Frenzy in his arms. The little cassette was still unconscious, but whole and apparently repaired. Soundwave, somewhat desperately, held his arms out, and Ratchet deposited the kid in them.
Soundwave held him close, arms tightening around Frenzy's tiny form. The Autobots had no reason to work so hard to save him. He didn't understand why they had done so, but he was grateful.
He wondered if Frenzy's repairs were complete. He wondered if Frenzy had any residual damage similar to his own ... That thought was so horrifying, and seemed so possible, that he tapped his own head, and then pointed at Frenzy, and looked at Ratchet, hoping Ratchet would understand.
Ratchet gave him a thumb's up and a big smile, then an 'OK' sign.
Apparently, Frenzy was going to be fine. Somewhat hesitantly, he gave him the 'OK' sign back, and wished he could say more. He owed the Autobots a debt that he did not know if he could ever repay, given his condition.
Prowl said something that sounded teasing to Ratchet
Ratchet turned, lifted a single finger up in Prowl's direction, gave Soundwave another smile, then stomped out. Prowl followed, snapping off the lights as he left. Much to his surprise, the SIC seemed to be smiling faintly. He'd never seen Prowl smile before.
Alone in the dark, Soundwave cradled Frenzy to his chest and ... had no idea what to do now.
He was useless. He had no idea why the Autobots had saved him. He was useless, alone, and helpless, among enemies who were behaving in ways he simply couldn't figure out. He held Frenzy the rest of the night, while wondering what his future held.
The security camera in Soundwave's private med bay room showed that he was simply sitting on the berth with Frenzy in his arms. Frenzy had finally woken an hour before, but Soundwave had continued to hold him. Frenzy, who was normally wary and defensive, was sprawled across Soundwave's chest with his optics only half lit. When alone, both of them seemed to relax.
"Are they lovers?" Optimus asked Ratchet. Then his gaze swept over other assembled officers and medical staff, as if daring them make a crude comment.
Ratchet shook his head. "I've examined both of them from head to toe when I had them in my surgery, looking for damage. Frenzy has slave seals and they are still intact."
Optic ridges went up. Slave seals were placed on valued "merchandise" during production, for a variety of reasons. Somewhere, Optimus thought he'd seen mention that Soundwave's twins had been runaways, but he couldn't recall the specifics. At any rate, Optimus mentally winced, wondering what Frenzy would think if he knew that his virginity was being discussed by several Autobots. He said firmly, "Kindly consider that information medically sensitive and do not spread it." He was a bit irritated that Ratchet would be so blunt.
Ratchet was unapologetic. "I think that's a relevant bit of data that helps us determine how to deal with them. They have a very close relationship, and I do not want anyone thinking that Soundwave is somehow taking advantage of Frenzy. Aside from the fact that Frenzy is an adult, they're not lovers. Based on every single thing I have seen, the two of them have a very healthy, culturally normal relationship. I talked to Blaster about it a bit, and read up on them in my resources. It's a very hierarchical culture, to be sure - symbionts are always subservient to their masters, and masters have their own masters, and so forth, often with actual bonds forged between them, but the symbionts are not without rights. By the way those two relate to each other, I'd say there's a lot of love and no abuse between them."
Optimus nodded. He'd been dubious about having Blaster as an Autobot when the mech had first joined, because the relationship that Blaster had with his own cassettes seemed close to slavery. He'd done his own research, and had several long personal talks with both Blaster and the members of his his little gang before his conscience had been mostly satisfied. He said, "The symbionts chose their masters. It's entirely consensual, and either party can break the bonds if they chose - though few do. By the nature of their bonds, it's generally a very close relationship, with considerable mutual support."
Next to him, Prowl had been reviewing notes on a datapad. He looked up and said, "All this is well and good, but what are we going to do with them?"
Prowl was practical to a fault. Optimus said firmly, "As long as Soundwave is unable to care for himself, he may remain here."
"Do we have the resources?" Prowl asked, a brutal question but one that had to be weighed. "And I'm not just talking about fuel. They're going to need quarters, we'll have to assign them guards, they will consume the time and effort of the medics and - for what? What do we get, other than a security headache?"
"Prowl," Optimus said, after silencing Ratchet's indignant protest with a stern look, "Those are valid issues that you raise. I will answer your last question first, which is what we get from caring for them - I very firmly believe we have a ideals and beliefs upon which we cannot compromise. Soundwave's presence among us is a reminder of who we are. We will care for him as if he was one of our own, because that is what we do, what we believe in. The rest ... will sort itself out."
Red Alert said sharply, "I want security on both of them at all times."
"I agree," Optimus said, simply. "They will be supervised closely, either by camera or by a trusted Autobot. I do not intend to be foolish, Red Alert. However, I also do not think it is overly optimistic of me to hope that someday those measures will not be necessary ..." He held a hand up when several mechs started to protest. "But for now, we will simply consider the practical."
"A brig cell isn't the right place for Soundwave," Ratchet tapped his fingers on the table. "He will need constant stimulation, interaction, encouragement, and physical therapy to regain the maximum amount of function. I'm willing to take responsibility for him during my work shift - he can stay in the med bay as long as he cooperates and is at least civil. Being out where he can interact with others will be good for him. I'd like some time to myself at the end of my shift, so I would appreciate it if we scheduled a few other mechs to mind him in the evening. He can stay with me at night - given his condition, he could suffer unexpected complications and I'd just a soon be close anyway."
"Your room?" Optimus wasn't sure he liked that idea.
Ratchet glanced him. "You know, a long time ago, I healed people - and I didn't care about their political allegiances. I just cared that I could help them. He's reminded me of what that feels like. he is an enemy yet ... it feels good to help him. Optimus, he can't stay in the brig. We don't have any spare single quarters at the moment, and he can't stay in the med bay either. I have a suite. There's enough room for two - or three, Frenzy's so small he doesn't count."
Red Alert snapped, "Ridiculous! He could kill you while you sleep!"
"Oh, come off it," Ratchet rolled his optics. "Red, he can barely walk."
"What about the little one!"
"Frenzy? If you recall, he tried to attack Megatron to defend me. I hardly think he'll be a threat to my plating."
Optimus realized he was smiling at the exchange. "If you want to keep him in your quarters until he's improved, I have no issues with this."
"People will talk," Red Alert growled. "They could assume the worst."
"If anyone thinks I'm fragging a Decepticon patient who can't even talk, they really don't know me," Ratchet sounded peeved by the suggestion. Optimus didn't blame him. Ratchet's reputation was impeccable.
"I want a security camera in your room."
"No." Ratchet narrowed his eyes at Red Alert, "That will not be necessary."
Optimus sighed, "Red, you know I have never approved security cameras in private quarters. I'm not going to start now. - There is, however, also the question of what to do with Frenzy during the day."
"Put him to work," Ratchet suggested, with a bit of a grin. "The little imp will be a handful and a half if he's bored. Also, he's going to need a break from Soundwave occasionally too."
Optimus chuckled, hearing genuine fondness in Ratchet's voice. "Ideas?"
"I'd say pair him up with an Autobot for several hours a day for maintenance tasks. He's small and he can get places Wheeljack can't for work on the Ark."
Red Alert, predictably, pointed out, "That is a huge security risk. I'd like multiple eyes on him."
Prowl frowned. "Red, you can watch him on the security cams. I think Ratchet is on the right track - better that he be kept busy versus sitting in a brig cell thinking of ways to escape or make mischief. He's got considerable hacking experience himself, given his history with Soundwave, and I wouldn't want to lay odds on our ability to hold him if he didn't want to be contained. So, I will pair him up with the engineering crew for now, as Ratchet suggests. I don't think there's anyone in that department who will give him a hard time."
Optimus nodded. "That will work, and Skyfire has been asking for a smaller lab assistant ... we should make him available to Skyfire as needed, as well."
His officers settled down to figuring out the specifics, and Optimus leaned back in his chair and let them do their jobs.
Ratchet caught his gaze, as Prowl and Red Alert debated who they could trust to be nice to the kid without being overly trusting.
Ratchet looked quietly angry, though it didn't seem to be at any of the other staff. Optimus knew Ratchet well enough to see that his medic's mulishly stubborn streak was in full force. Ratchet hated Megatron just about as much as anyone did, and he also had a fierce need to prove his enemies wrong. That contrary streak meant that Ratchet was going to do his damndest to help Soundwave, and the fact that Soundwave was also an enemy was of far less significance to the medic.
Ratchet had a keen sense of justice and honor to match his stubbornness. Megatron's actions had offended him down to the core of his being, but by the same token, Soundwave's injuries were also the result of an Autobot weapon. Ratchet was an oathsworn healer, and Optimus knew that the war's casualties wore on his conscience, even when he wasn't the one pulling the trigger. Every single time they'd had an enemy in the med bay, Ratchet started out grumbling and irritated, and then had ended up going above and beyond to heal that enemy mech. It was, Optimus was certain, his way of compensating for his guilt over his part in the war.
And so Ratchet had resolved to help Soundwave.
:I am very proud of you today, Ratchet.: He knew Ratchet would get flack for his support of the Decepticon officer. He wanted Ratchet to know that he supported him. :If you need any help, or a sounding board, you know my door is always open to you.:
Ratchet brightened a little, then seemed to sag in place. :Thanks, Boss. I just hope that Soundwave doesn't betray us, despite our good intentions.:
:If he does, you will still have done the right thing.:
:Yeah, but if he betrays us, I'm the one who gets to fix the casualties.:
He had a rather good point. :Just be careful, with him in your room.:
:Yes sir. Though, for what it's worth, I intend to let him have the berth and I'll sleep in my sitting room.:
:There would be nothing wrong with making him sleep on fold-down berth that we bolted to the wall. You should not need to give your own berth up.:
:Nah, it's okay. He'll need considerably more recharge than is normal for the first few months, and I'd wake him up coming and going. Plus I'd like him to recharge with monitoring equipment watching his systems and that'll be easier to install in my bedroom.:
:Ah.:
:Plus,: Ratchet added, :If I put a silent alarm on the door, I'll know if he or Frenzy gets up during the night.:
Ratchet was nobody's fool, Optimus thought. :Good. I know I don't have to tell you to be careful, but do let me know if you need anything.:
:Mm. You bet, boss.:
For the life of him, Soundwave could not figure out why he was still functioning, or what the Autobots wanted.
Frenzy, trotting ahead of them, seemed slightly puzzled but not alarmed. He was also getting threads of faint warmth from the kid directed at Ratchet, as if Frenzy genuinely liked him.
He hoped that Frenzy was reading the situation right, because he was baffled by what they had planned for him. Soundwave was fairly familiar with the Arc's layout, and he knew that he wasn't being taken to the brig. They seemed to be headed for the personnel quarters. Their progress was slow, as he still couldn't seem to keep his balance.
Ratchet, supporting him, was sturdy and uncomplaining. Soundwave had a multitude of files on the medic. Most spoke of his vicious temper, his fighting ability, and his obstinate nature. None mentioned the sheer caring that the mech seemed to exude.
Laserbeak had fairly accurately mapped the Arc over the years. He was suddenly struck with a pang of grief and loss for her; he missed her. She had been easy going and quiet, his calmest cassette, yet so very brave. She'd never refused a mission, no matter how dangerous, and sometimes he had wondered if she even knew what fear was.
Even Megatron had liked her - and she'd liked him right back, much to Soundwave's bemusement. If Megatron needed a spy or a messenger, he generally took Laserbeak. Soundwave had worried, of course, the entire time that she was gone, but Megatron had always brought her back safely.
He wasn't entirely sure he understood what had happened with Megatron, though he could guess. Starscream had probably represented his damage as being worse than it was, and Hook - no fool - had backed him up. Hook also didn't like to work on "hopeless" cases. He was a consummate perfectionist, and he saw flaws he couldn't fix as being far worse than they were. He would refuse patients simply because he judged he couldn't repair them to his standards, and he couldn't live with an imperfect fix marring his impeccable record. If the two of them had teamed up, it was entirely possible that Megatron had thought him beyond all help.
It still hurt, however, beyond all measure. He had earned his place at Megatron's side by being faithful, efficient, and uncomplaining. Megatron had simply thrown him away without even trying to verify that what they'd told him was true.
... And he'd nearly killed Frenzy.
For that, Soundwave wasn't sure he could forgive him. He had an explicit, specific agreement with Megatron that if anything happened to him, his cassettes were to be cared for and kept together until they decided on a new host. He honestly thought that if he died, Frenzy would follow him in short order, but if he was crippled the kid would obviously stick around - and Megatron should have honored the spirit of their long-ago agreement to see that the cassettes were cared for. Or cassette, singular, in this case.
Soundwave did not know what he would do if anything ever happened to Frenzy. The kid was his priority, now. Megatron had voided all loyalty he might have had by shooting Frenzy. He could think of no reason for Megatron to have responded with potentially deadly force against a grieving, terrified, unarmed youngling who was not a great deal larger than Megatron's fist.
And then for the Autobots to fix him ... without any real valid reason to do so ... he still thought they were soft-sparked fools, but he was grateful to said fools.
Ratchet's expression, as he had tenderly handed Frenzy over, stuck with Soundwave. The mech had cared, truly cared, about one small enemy soldier - and about Soundwave's feelings for the kid. He could have just as easily let Frenzy wake in a brig cell, cold and alone.
He expected Ratchet to dump him off in one of the small rooms reserved for grunts. However, Ratchet turned up the hallway that led to the officers' quarters.
What was this? Were these fools actually going to put him in quarters that matched his rank? He was an officer, albeit a Decepticon one. That couldn't possibly be right, if for no other reason than Laserbeak's last excursion into the Ark had confirmed they had no empty rooms anywhere on the ship, and quite a few mechs were double bunking.
Ratchet said something to Frenzy, who skipped ahead and punched a code into a door lock. Soundwave tried to ping Frenzy for the code (because everything was useful intelligence, and he and his symbionts shared things like passwords and door codes nearly automatically) and managed to make Frenzy jump when he hissed static over the bond.
Once through the doorway, it became quickly evident that these were Ratchet's personal quarters. A half disassembled optical array for a very large mech lay on his table, with tools neatly assembled beside it. Pictures of Ratchet and various human celebrities lined the walls - apparently, the medic wasn't above asking to pose for a photo with an amazing assortment of Hollywood stars and politicians. (Or maybe they asked to pose with him, and he asked for a photo!) A few empty energon cubes were scattered about - not enough to be a true mess, but definitely evidence of a busy mech who was too high in rank for anyone to inspect his quarters.
It was cozy, if a little cluttered. It would have driven Soundwave, who was obsessively neat and organized, insane in short order.
Soundwave took this all in as Ratchet paused to talk to Frenzy. Frenzy flopped on the couch, reached for a remote that was half-buried under a human newspaper, and snapped on the television. Soundwave would have protested the kid's ill manners, except he had an unpleasant suspicion that Ratchet had just said, Make yourself at home.
That sudden feeling of extreme ill ease was born out when Ratchet steered him towards the bedroom at the back. Frenzy looked up at his sudden spike of fear, and said something questioning.
He clamped down on the bond, hard. It wouldn't do for Frenzy to feel his reactions to what he strongly suspected was about to happen. He couldn't entirely block the bond, but he was going to mute this as much as possible.
He considered fighting ... but Frenzy was reason to cooperate. He was, frankly, helpless and useless. The Autobots had zero reason to keep Soundwave around, and a lot of reasons to offline him or just dump him somewhere. However, it seemed their CMO had decided to find an use for him that involved the berth. Soundwave analyzed the situation repeatedly and this was the only reason he could find for Ratchet to take him to his quarters rather than putting him in a brig cell.
It made him want to scream like a sparkling, and he had to force himself not to panic and run in an undignified and pointless display of terror. With cold, hard reason he told himself that if this gave the Autobot a reason to keep him, and gave Frenzy a place to be safe ... as long as the medic didn't touch Frenzy he thought he could endure it. There could be far worse fates.
Given to the humans, he thought, for experimentation. Or reformatted, spark transferred to a new body ... or put in stasis for the next few thousand years.
The Autobot lowered him to the berth, hands gentle and firm. The mech was clearly used to handling disabled, awkward patients, and his sturdy frame was reinforced for power.
This might not even be so bad, he told himself. Ratchet was kind - perhaps he'd be gentle now. Perhaps if he cooperated, Ratchet would never have a reason to look at Frenzy the same way he was obviously viewing Soundwave.
I can do this, he thought, bitterly.
He hadn't had a lover in a very long time, but he remembered, with sweet fondness, what it had been like. The shattering of that single bond long ago had defined his life, had made him who he was, and he missed her with every spark of his being. He remembered ... and then set those memories aside, not wishing them to be tainted by what he had to do now.
Ratchet wasn't bad to look at. He was clean - that white plating of his was spotless. He would certainly want to be the top, and Soundwave wasn't exactly a valve mech - he'd tried a few times as a youngling, experimenting, and had decided he preferred being the one doing the spiking, thank you very much, during interfacing. Still, he didn't think being underneath that solid bulk would be utterly awful. Ratchet might even try to make it good for him, rather than simply taking his pleasure as if Soundwave were a drone.
Not that he thought he could possible enjoy this.
The Autobot bent over to lift Soundwave's legs up onto the berth, and Soundwave offlined his optics, not particularly wanting to see Ratchet. He lay back, forcing himself to relax. Turning off his optics increased his vertigo, but that was preferable to watching ... he didn't want to see what the Autobot looked like as he took his pleasure.
Would he be expected to overload, he wondered? Could he, when he felt so little desire, and when the world was wheeling and spinning around him?
He didn't want this.
Ratchet's bulk settled onto the edge of the berth. Those sure, gentle fingers rested on his shoulder, then ran down his arm and squeezed. Ratchet was saying something that sounded soothing.
Just get on with it, he thought, trying not to shiver in disgust and dismay.
The Autobot was just sitting there. He'd removed his hand, and when Soundwave risked bringing his optics back online, the medic was staring off into space. His expression was distant.
He didn't want this. He. Didn't. Want. This.
He hadn't wanted any of this.
He just ... he just wanted his cassettes back. He wanted to go home to his own quarters. He wanted to wake up as Megatron's most trusted commander, sure of his place in the world. He wanted to be able to talk. He wanted to be able to tell Frenzy it was going to be okay. He wanted to be able to hold his own amid the cesspit of Decepticon politics, relying on his wits, the intelligence gathering ability of his cassettes, and his long history of relative trust with Megatron to keep his position of power and influence.
... With all but Frenzy dead, he realized, he would probably not be able to keep his position even if Megatron had taken him back. He had relied upon all of them, but particularly Laserbeak and Buzzsaw and Ravage, to keep his blackmail current and keep one step ahead of the rumor mill about his own activities. The other officers would turn upon him like sharks on a blood trail once they realized he no longer had his little gang of spies.
Rumble and Frenzy, while useful at infiltration, were better at hacking and at gathering intelligence via gossip. Their chatty nature was quite useful - people forgot they were Soundwave's and spoke to them and useful tidbits came back to him.
Megatron had always appreciated Soundwave's ability to keep tabs on Starscream and Shockwave. It had been a large part of what made him so valuable.
All that was gone now.
Ratchet's hand was gentle, soothing, on his arm. He hated it. Hated the mech, who faked such kindness.
He wanted to be able to fight.
He wanted to be able to defend himself.
To fight what was coming off.
He wanted his weapons.
He didn't want this.
His horror rose, with claustrophobic intensity. He wanted to scream, but he didn't want to hear the garbled static that would come from his vocalizer.
He wanted ...
There was that hand again, resting lightly on his shoulder, stroking. Ratchet's fingers were warm, gentle, full of confidence and power.
He didn't want to find that touch at all attractive. A tiny curl of warmth threaded through his systems, though, and he denied it with fierce rage at his own weakness.
He was Soundwave. He was proud. He was competent. He didn't cry. He wasn't attracted to the damned Autobot solely because the mech had so much power, so much authority, could protect him, particularly not when the Autobot was about to rape him. He didn't want it. He didn't want to like the mech who intended to violate him.
Unwanted, a sob escaped him, harsh and full of static.
The Autobot's hand stilled. He heard a soft burst of noise, and wondered what Ratchet had said. It didn't matter. He just wanted to get this over with. Get it done, get it past him ... prove to himself he could survive it. Why was the Autobot just sitting there?
Slaggit. He didn't want this. Some fierce sense of claustrophobia made him struggle upright. The world dipped and spun around him, but he was getting better at ignoring that dizzying sense of motion. His vents were puffing as his systems powered up to battle readiness in response to his terror. He wanted to run, but he knew he'd go crashing to the ground if he tried to even take a step.
The medic sighed, tucked one leg under himself so that they were closer to the same height, and wrapped his arm around Soundwave's shoulders. He was far stronger than his size would indicate. The room seemed to be spinning wildly. He could barely concentrate on the mech's presence next to him, much less fight back effectively.
The sobs came harder, though he tried to muffle them. He didn't want Frenzy to hear, though he knew he was incapable of blocking all his emotions when they were this powerful. He was very glad that the door was closed, at least, so the kid wouldn't hear him cry. Soundwave did not cry. Soundwave hadn't cried in thousands of years and now it was as if he was not even in control of his own emotions.
Everything - all control, all he had ever owned save one small symbiont - had been taken from him. Even his own mind was damaged.
He didn't want to take comfort from this Autobot, who was certainly going to rape him, and he'd never needed a hug from anyone since he was a sparkling. He was tough. He was a warrior. He was not some sniveling child, to need protection and comfort like one of his young symbionts ...
But he couldn't stop the faint cries that escaped his vocalizer.
And the Autobot just held him. The hug felt like the real thing, not some ploy to make him cooperate. Was it possible that the mech cared?
Why would he care?
That little thread of attraction, of faint desire, was just a fraction stronger, and he damned himself for it. He did not want this.
It made no sense. They were enemies. Surely, the Autobot was just being nice because he wanted a frag that didn't involve a fight first. He probably wanted to pretend that this was consensual, that this was okay, that Soundwave wanted it too.
He did not want it. He did not want to be held in those arms and comforted, made to feel something besides fear and frustration and grief. He did not feel a tiny amount of interest in the mech. He didn't want to, perhaps, lay back and let the Autobot make love to him and pretend, for a bit, he had a protector of his own, a lover, someone who would be his friend, his equal, his champion.
He ... didn't want that. The Autobot was not that person. He was going to violate Soundwave, and Soundwave was ashamed to feel any interest at all.
The Autobot's hands were so gentle. The Autobot was making soft crooning noises now, like the sounds one would make to a new sparkling. It was embarrassing, because he couldn't stop sobbing. In fact, the more that the damned Autobot held him, the harder he seemed to cry.
He kept waiting for those hands to move to more intimate areas, but they didn't. They remained chastely on Soundwave's back. The Autobot - the damned soft-sparked slagging Autobot - was just holding him and giving him a literal shoulder to cry on and he just didn't get it. He didn't understand.
The Autobot just held him. Those hands didn't grope him, didn't slid into the seams of his armor. Ratchet's touch was not inappropriate. It was comforting. Soothing. He was reminded of the way he held his own symbionts.
Slowly, a thread of hope flared ... the mech wasn't trying to force him. He was just sitting there, crooning softly, a solid, sturdy presence.
Could Soundwave, perhaps, trust him?
That thought made him sob even harder, much to his embarrassment.
He was a warrior. He was proud. He never showed weakness nor emotion to anyone but his symbionts. He was independent and strong. This was shameful.
But he grabbed onto the damn Autobot medic and clung fiercely to him as the world spun wildly around them. He didn't want to like the mech. He insisted to himself that he didn't, couldn't, trust him. But he held on for all he was worth, for reasons he couldn't even define.
The Autobot's hands were gentle, and they soothed him like he was a child, and slowly he relaxed. He was not going to be harmed. He was not going to be forced. He was just being held, tightly, by the mech who'd saved Frenzy, who'd saved his own life, who had treated him all along with such careful courtesy and care.
Soundwave couldn't figure out why the realization that the mech wasn't going to hurt him made his grief and anger and fear worse. He didn't understand. But he also didn't let go until many hours later.
The medic then urged him to lie down, squeezed his arm, and with that last gesture, he quietly left the room. Soundwave didn't think he'd be able to recharge, but to his surprise oblivion claimed him for the night in mere moments.
He was safe with the medic - he and Frenzy both. Somehow, he could believe that. No matter what else happened, the medic was safe.