Chapter 7 - An Adjustment of Plans
Frenzy had not really been out and about in the main areas of the Ark yet. He'd worked in the maintenance tunnels yesterday, and hadn't seen many other Autobots in the tunnels. So, when Steeljaw padded towards the rec room, he hesitated. He had no idea what his reception would be.
Steeljaw stopped when Frenzy slowed down, and turned to face him. "Scared, huh?" He nudged Frenzy in the chest with his forehead, a Steeljaw-hug. "Don't worry. I won't lie to you, there are some who'd just as soon see you slagged, but they'll behave themselves. Everyone's under orders to be nice."
He automatically reached up and rubbed Steeljaw's neck with one hand, closing his eyes briefly. The other mech nudged Frenzy's blank chest plates, devoid of any factional insignia, and stripped to bare metal by paint solvent. "This will help, you know."
He'd removed his Decepticon insignia minutes earlier. He had mixed feelings about that, almost as if he was changing who he was to fit in. He was pissed as hell at Megatron, but he'd been a Decepticon most of his life. "It feels a bit weird."
"I don't doubt it."
He still had his arms wrapped around the other mech's neck. Now he slid two fingers under Steeljaw's armor and found the sensitive line of a neural wire. Steeljaw arched into the touch with a gusty sigh, eyes flaring. It gave him a thrill to know a simple touch could do that to the other mech ... and that Steeljaw wanted him. Then Steeljaw stepped back swiftly and said, "C'mon, Red Alert monitors this corridor. Before we give him a glitch, we should get going."
"I want ..." he hesitated. He wanted that closeness again, that intimacy. It was a pale substitute for what he'd lost, but at least it was a distraction. A tiny voice in his spark wondered if it might lead to something more than physical, too ... and he told that voice to shut up. He tried again to tell Steeljaw what he wanted, but he couldn't quite force the right words out. He wasn't used to having a lover. "Us ... Later?"
"Of course. If they'll let us." Steeljaw walked at his side again, stride relaxed. He envied that composure.
"Ratchet will make sure," he said, with confidence and gratitude. The medic had no reason to help him, but had. He really didn't think he could handle life right now without what Steeljaw was giving him.
"Mm. I expect I'll get in a pitload of trouble anyway." Steeljaw glanced up at him, lips twisting into a smile. "Just don't feel guilty about it, okay? Everything worthwhile in life has a price. You're worth it."
"We barely know each other." Then he hastily shut his mouth, before he said something rude and obnoxious, that might drive Steeljaw away.
He didn't understand Steeljaw, really. He suddenly wondered if the mech had an ulterior motive and if so, what that was. Why did Steeljaw think he was worth getting in serious trouble over? There were plenty of mechs who'd think a few days in the brig was a fair trade for a good frag, but he'd gotten the distinct impression from Ratchet that Steeljaw could have gotten in far more trouble than that. He was very afraid Steeljaw might decide he wasn't worth the hassle, too. It was true they barely knew each other.
"Heh. We'll have to change that, then." Steeljaw bumped his shoulder into Frenzy's hip. "In between 'facing each other unconscious, we can, oh, I don't know, talk? It's sort've traditional between lovers, you know, to talk. Sounds like a great way to get to know each other. I'm all for talking, though 'facing's good too. Maybe a little of both?"
He had stumbled when Steeljaw had shoved him playfully, and laughed, and then stopped short, startled. His flash of amusement had been truly genuine. Steeljaw's wry humor had been very real. As swiftly as it had come, however, he'd thought of his late siblings and Soundwave, and felt guilty for laughing.
The rec room was up ahead. Steeljaw turned again to face him, this time with a very serious expression. "We will need to be discrete, for now. I'm sorry, Frenzy." He paused for a moment, looking past Frenzy with optics that seemed to be seeing memories and not the present. In a very, very soft tone, head sinking down, he said, "We need to be discrete because of the rules we're breaking ... but there are plenty of people on this base who will think less of you for being with me."
He snorted. He knew what Steeljaw was asking, without actually being willing to bring voice to his darkest fears. He wanted to know if Frenzy would be willing to openly have a relationship with him. Frenzy said boldly, "I'm willing to bet that you fragging a 'con wouldn't exactly make you popular either."
It scared him, though. He needed to fit in. Suddenly, he was very uneasy about his relationship with Steeljaw. There were going to be mechs who disapproved, and it could put him - and Soundwave - at risk. Pit, he knew how he'd reacted to the pervs who'd hit on Ravage. Plenty of people would assume he was a perv for his interest in Steeljaw.
There was a part of him who wanted to drag Steeljaw off to the nearest supply closet and interface with him until neither of them could walk, but he was pretty sure his interest didn't have much to do with Steeljaw's frame type or a desire to do it with an "animal." It was Steeljaw's cool confidence and keen intelligence that he found most attractive.
Steeljaw was searching his expression. Suddenly, he shook his head, and laughed. "Tell you what - I promise I won't worry about what people think if you won't."
"Deal, Mousebreath."
"Hey!" Steeljaw's indignant expression made him smile.
"You were the one who caught it with your jaws!" He elbowed Steeljaw in the shoulder.
"Yeah, well, I can't run and grab with my hands at the same time," Steeljaw said, a little bit defensively.
"I'd have just stepped on it. I hate mice."
Pest patrol yesterday, as Wheeljack termed it, had included a frantic chase after a rodent that escaped from one of the live traps. Just as it was about to get away, Steeljaw had caught it, very delicately, with his teeth, without hurting it.
"And get mice guts on my feet?" Steeljaw mimed shaking a paw in absolute disgust.
Frenzy laughed for the second time that morning. He really loathed rodents, but he also suspected that Steeljaw was secretly soft on them. Steelie had been a bit too careful in the way he'd captured the animal, and gently deposited it in a bucket.
Steeljaw grinned at him. "You are gorgeous when you laugh, Frenzy."
Guilt slammed into him. He was laughing even while Soundwave lay unconscious in the med bay and his siblings were dead. His smile must have slipped from his face, because Steeljaw stepped forward and leaned his head against Frenzy's chest again. Frenzy wrapped his arms around Steeljaw's neck onto him, even as he mentally cursed Steeljaw's touchy-feely nature. He didn't want to cry, and Steeljaw's sympathy threatened to get him going again.
One minute he'd been laughing. The next he was fighting back sobs. Maybe he was going crazy.
"Shh." Steeljaw looked up at him. "You're okay."
"... That's the problem. I'm okay. I'm laughing. And they're dead ... and Soundwave ..."
"If you were feeling upset," Steeljaw said, quietly, "Maybe really upset, maybe somebody you'd cared about had died, what would Rumble do?" When Frenzy couldn't begin to answer that question, Steeljaw continued in that same calm tone, "He would try to cheer you up, right? He'd probably do something stupid, clown around, maybe tease you until you laughed."
"... Yeah. He was good at that."
"He'd probably tease you until you laughed right now, right?" Steeljaw's blue eyes were so clear, so keen. They seemed to be looking right through to Frenzy's spark. In an even tone that seemed to capture every bit of Frenzy's attention he said, "You know, I often watched you and your siblings. You spied on us, and we spied on you, and I have a feeling we know each other better than we think. I know you like video games, and human sports, and you read comic books, and your temper isn't as bad as everyone thinks. You let loose in battle, but you can and do control it when you need to. You use it for strength and courage when you fight, at that is why you have a reputation for being a berzerker."
He was surprised by the amount that Steeljaw seemed to know, but before he could say anything, the other mech continued, "And I know Rumble and the others loved you, because of the way you treated each other. Rumble would be trying to cheer you up right about now. He wouldn't want you to hurt so badly. It's okay to miss him, but you don't need to feel guilty if you laugh occasionally. You don't have to punish yourself, because you lived and they died - and that is what you are trying to do right now, because you feel guilty."
He tightened his arms, surprise turning into gratitude. "I didn't know you'd watched us so much."
"Bet you know a lot about me, too," Steeljaw murmured.
"Y... yeah, I guess." Not, he thought, as much as Steeljaw seemed to know about him.
"Ahem."
Both of them sprang apart, raising matching surprised stairs to see Jazz frowning at them as he padded silently up the hall. "Ah heard from Red Alert that you two were behaving inappropriately in the hall."
"Told you he had a camera on this hallway," Steeljaw said to Frenzy, then to Jazz, eyes narrowed, he said firmly, "A hug is not inappropriate behavior."
"Ah had a talk with Ratchet 'n Prowl 'n Prime a few minutes ago." Jazz's frown did not lighten. "About something that ah know nothing about. Ah'd like to keep not knowing anything about it. Understand?"
"Yessir," Frenzy said, very firmly, and with real feeling, "I don't want any trouble."
"Thank you, sir." Steeljaw gave Jazz a very relieved smile.
"Ya can thank me," Jazz said, still scowling at him, "by not complaining when ah assign you monitor duty, pest patrol, wash rack maintenance, wastewater removal, and every additional miserable job I can think of for the next millennia. And then when you're done with that, you get to come by my office and help me with paperwork."
Steeljaw said, with a very bright smile, "Do I ever complain?"
"No," Jazz finally relented a bit. "Ya don't, even when ya sometimes should, Steelie."
Steeljaw shrugged. "It's a fair punishment. I take it that it's unofficial, though - as far as everyone else is concerned, you're just giving me the scut work because I torqued you off somehow?"
"Ya got it." Jazz folded his arms under his bumper. "Anyone asks why yer scrubbing the wash racks down for the fifth time in a week, ya tell 'em I'm a slagger and ya pissed me off. Which is true enough."
"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to anger you. Or disappoint you."
"Eh. The kid," and here, Jazz smiled briefly at Frenzy, who fought back irritation at being called a 'kid', "is outranked by the entire ship. Means he's gonna get assigned the same scut work you will. Don't make me regret that, or ya'll find yourself working opposite shifts real quick."
Frenzy blinked in surprise at this unexpected news. Steeljaw grinned hugely. "Thank you, sir."
"Get out of my sight. And don't let Red Alert catch you two snuggling in the halls again or I'll be forced to get creative with my assignments for ya. Ya won't like that much, ah promise."
"Thank you," Frenzy echoed Steeljaw, then hurried after the other cassette.
"Smart mech," Steeljaw murmured, as they approached the rec room. "If anyone ever finds out about us and makes a stink about it, Jazz can point out that I've already been thoroughly punished, and show the duty logs to prove it. I'm sure everybody will think I am being punished, but if I play it right, they'll also assume it's something classified that nobody can talk about."
Before Frenzy could respond to that, the rec room doors swooshed open. Steeljaw boldly walked through. Frenzy hurried to follow, and couldn't help but notice when the conversation in the room died abruptly, and was replaced by encrypted comm chatter. They were talking about him, undoubtedly.
He stopped short, and surveyed the room. It was packed full of mechs getting their morning rations. Most were either staring at him or trading looks of disbelief. Finally, someone - Gears - said aloud, "Why's he not in the brig? Or, maybe dead?"
"Frenzy, Steeljaw, why don't you join us?" A deep-voiced mech said from a table near the back of the room. That voice held huge reserves of dignity and assured confidence.
He spun, surprised by the invitation. Skyfire had made it, and Frenzy could have kissed his feet for it. He grinned broadly, said to the room in general, "I can see I'm totally welcome here," and scrambled up to sit crosslegged on the table.
Grumbles rose from the room at even that mild (by his standards of snark) response. Skyfire bent over in his chair to be closer to Frenzy's level. "How are your repairs feeling? I assisted Ratchet and Wheeljack."
Frenzy noted that nobody challenged Skyfire aloud, and the muttering had died down. Skyfire's rank wasn't very high, given he'd only recently joined the Autobots, but he was apparently very well respected. Also, he was very large.
"Oh." He was grateful that Skyfire hadn't asked a more open-ended 'how are you doing.' "Thanks. Umm. Fine, I guess."
"Good to hear. Ratchet works miracles. How's Soundwave doing?"
"... okay." He frowned. He didn't think there was going to be a miracle where Soundwave had been concerned. "I guess. Ratchet said I could see him after First Aid was done doing some tests."
He was oddly reluctant to face Soundwave.
Skyfire nodded. "Ratchet had all of us chasing down glitches last night. He even roped Prowl in for a bit - that battle computer of his is handy for anything that needs rapid parallel processing. Soundwave's code was well and truly corrupted beyond anything I'd ever seen. Ratchet orchestrated everything and put it back together like pieces of a puzzle."
Frenzy was more than a little surprised to hear that others had been involved in saving Soundwave. Ratchet had been into Soundwave's processor deep enough for Frenzy to sense him through the bond, and he must have been downloading fragmented code to the others to fix. "How many of you were working on him?"
"Me, Wheeljack, First Aid, Smokescreen, Perceptor, and Prowl." Skyfire smiled. "It was quite an effort, and if Ratchet wasn't so good at organizing everyone, it wouldn't have succeeded."
"Oh." He couldn't imagine such an effort from the Decepticons for an Autobot.
"You okay?" Skyfire said.
He was beginning to hate that question. He wanted to answer it with a very snarky negative. Instead, he chose honest bluntness. "I don't understand you people."
Skyfire started to rest a hand on him arm. He was getting almighty tired of everyone petting him like a sparkling the moment he showed even the slightest sign of angst, and Skyfire was big enough to squish him like a bug if he was rough. He shot a dangerous glare at the hand, and stepped quickly away. "Don't. I might bite."
"Sorry." Skyfire lowered his hand down to the table carefully.
"Sorry," he also apologized, for rejecting Skyfire's advance. Feeling weirdly embarrassed, he stared down at the surface of the table and folded his arms. He was getting very tired of being pawed, but by Skyfire's expression he had not expected to be rebuffed. He'd probably made some sort of weird social faux pax. Autobots were strange. He mumbled, "Not used t' people like you guys."
"Mmm." Skyfire glanced out at the room. "You know something I noticed about the Decepticons, when Starscream woke me?"
"What?"
"I noticed it in their rec room, which is pretty similar to ours on the surface. However, their body language is different. Everybody's wary of each other among the Decepticons. Everyone wears arms openly, even in the base. Here, even the worst of us, the most battle hardened and scarred, do not fear their fellow Autobots. It says something about the Autobot culture that all weapons are subspaced. The only reason they carry weapons at all on the basel is to allow for rapid response if the Decepticons attack."
Frenzy glanced up at Skyfire, and then out at the room. Even the toughest Autobot warriors looked relaxed. Jazz was teasing Arcee, who had her hands on her hips and was giving as good as she got. Neither of them looked like they were afraid of the other. Sideswipe was horsing around with his twin. Ironhide was deep in conversation with Kup. Hound, Bluestreak, Trailbreaker, and Mirage were sharing a table, occasionally glancing in his direction, but not watching each other.
Skyfire was right. They trusted each other.
It would be easy to dismiss them as naive and foolish, but those same naive, foolish Autobots had slagged up enough Decepticons over the years for him to discredit that idea. If anything, they were better fighters than the Decepticons, because they fought together as a team. Soundwave regularly grumbled about the Decepticon attitude of 'each for himself' and the battles it had lost them over the years.
The door swished open, admitting Optimus. Conversation briefly stopped, but then just as quickly started up again after chorused greetings. Nobody rose; he was probably off duty. Optimus, somewhat to Frenzy's concern, walked in their direction.
"Good morning, sir," Skyfire said. He gestured at a seat. "Join us? I was just talking to Frenzy about the differences between Autobot and Decepticon culture."
"'Morning, sir." Frenzy eyed Optimus warily as he sat down at the table.
"Good morning, Frenzy." Optimus smiled at him. "Jazz said you were in the rec room."
He nodded slowly, feeling that falling-into-a-rabbit-hole sensation for the umpteenth time. Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, was sitting at a table with him, and concerned for his welfare. "I ... don't feel any loyalty to Megatron. Not after what they did. I didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about me."
"Hmmm." Optimus smiled. "You were talking cultures with Skyfire?"
"A little."
"So what do you think are the differences?" Optimus said, with what sounded like real interest.
Nobody ever asked him questions like that. Even his bondmates hadn't asked for his opinion on matters such as this. If it was a social issue, Ravage was the one who gave the best advice. None of them were really interested in anything beyond practical matters like who was pissed off at who or how to avoid angering a particular mech. Beyond the bond, he'd had a reputation as a nasty little fragger with an attitude all out of proportion to his size ... and not much in the way of intelligence.
He wondered briefly if the question were loaded. Was Optimus trying to trap him into saying something damning, or stupid? Perhaps trying to make him look foolish?
Well, he wasn't stupid. And he knew how to flatter with the best of them, when it served his purposes. He said, in as innocent a tone as he could manage, "Autobots get along with each other better, and trust each other more. The reason is a difference in management styles, from the top down. You promote harmony and teamwork as a way to win battles. Megatron believes that the best way to identify the best warriors, and harden them for combat, is to encourage competition and a certain degree of infighting."
The look that Optimus gave him was well and truly surprised. Skyfire sounded a tad skeptical when he said, "Is that something Soundwave observed?"
He had actually come up with that on his own. However, maybe it was best if they assumed him to be a little on the slow side. He nodded, and added, "Telepath. Err, he was. He had pretty good insight into people."
The truth was, Ravage had good insight into people. Soundwave tended to be a little confused by conflicting emotions from others. Being able to read someone's feelings and thoughts, and understanding why they responded that way, were two different things. Soundwave quite frequently asked Ravage for assistance in puzzling out a political problem or understanding a social situation.
Most of his lifetime had been spent listening in on Soundwave and Ravage discussing the finer points of Decepticon command decisions. Neither of them strictly agreed with Megatron's approach to leadership, though it worked well enough from a practical standpoint - they could get all their weapons aimed in the same direction, and the Decepticon army hadn't yet dissolved into chaos.
"I see." Optimus smiled at him.
He tried to figure out if that was a patronizing smile, or a benevolent smile. He couldn't decide. Impulsively, he added, "I think the reason you've managed to fight the 'cons to a standstill with half the forces that we - they - have is that you encourage everyone to work together. That's what I think. And your people are more loyal. They'll die for you. Not many 'cons will die for Megatron. They fight because they like to fight, or because they're more afraid of the officers than they are of Autobots."
Optimus nodded slowly. "You pay attention to a lot of what goes on around you, don't you?"
"It was my job." He wondered if Optimus's words were some form of oblique criticism. He wished for Ravage again. Ravage would have a lot better understanding of what Optimus was thinking than he did. "Okay, Soundwave did the analysis, but I gotta be some kind of smart to know what kind of data to give him. Okay?"
"I never doubted your intelligence. Anyone who could repeatedly fool Red Alert's security systems to gain access to our base does not lack for intelligence." Optimus rested a hand on his shoulder.
Slaggit. He wished they'd stop pawing at him. He didn't dare shrug Optimus's hand off like he had Skyfire's.
"I understand," Optimus said, "that you are getting along rather well with Steeljaw?"
Where was Steeljaw? Frenzy glanced around, looking for him. Steeljaw, it turned out, was over at the energon dispenser. Eject had joined him, and Eject was standing on Steeljaw's back so that he could reach the dispenser's nozzle. They were filling cubes up. "Umm, yeah. Jazz said that Ratchet talked to you 'n him."
Blue eyes studied him gravely for a long moment. "Ratchet has made a convincing argument on your behalf."
For the life of him, he just didn't understand these mechs. They were strange.
"Steeljaw's a good mech." Optimus watched the two cassettes at the dispenser as he spoke. "He tries so very hard to please."
"Are you mad at me?" Frenzy asked, impulsively. He didn't want Optimus angry at him.
Optimus regarded him gravely, blue eyes steady and calm. "No. Not angry, Frenzy. I am worried for you."
"What do you want out of me?" He asked, suddenly feeling a little defiant and sullen. He was tired of trying to puzzle the Autobots out. They made no sense to him at all. Now he did push Optimus's hand away, and damn the consequences. "I don't get you."
Optimus simply laid his hand down on the table. A buzz of encrypted comm discussion rose from the room, however. They were being watched, closely, by the other Autobots. Steeljaw had stopped what he was doing, and was heading in their direction with a tray holding two cubes of energon in his teeth.
"I am not even sure how to answer that," Optimus said, finally.
Skyfire said, "Frenzy, for now, perhaps it would be best if you remember that Optimus is the bearer of the Matrix of Leadership. He is altruistic to the very core of his being, both as a requirement and a consequence of the Matrix. He means only the best for you - and for all Cybertronians. It is simply how he is wired."
"Skyfire exaggerates, a bit. I am far from perfect. However, he is correct in that I wish only the best for you, as I do for all of us." Optimus glanced briefly at the approaching Steeljaw. "Steelie, will you join us, please?"
"Yes sir." Steeljaw moved smoothly up onto the table in one neat leap. He did so without spilling the energon on his tray. "Sir, have you eaten? I could get you your morning fuel too, if you'd like."
"I am fueled, but thank you." Optimus gave him a steady look. "I am given to understand that Jazz has had a discussion with you?"
"Yes, sir." Steeljaw couldn't seem to look Optimus in the eyes. "I'm sorry if I have disappointed you."
Optimus's smile was wry, surprising Frenzy. "I was young once too, Steeljaw. I am also optimistic that this may yet work out for the best. If it does not ... we will deal with it when it comes."
Frenzy did not want to think about it not working out. That was too close to his own fears of being very, very alone.
Prime said something additional to Steeljaw with a very encrypted comm transmission. Steeljaw looked up in surprise, and a smile touched his mouth. "Thank you, sir, for that faith in me."
"Frenzy," Optimus said, "Ratchet tells me that First Aid should be done with Soundwave around noon. I would like you to help me with some paperwork until then, and run some errands."
"Yes sir." Nervous dismay made him fidget in place.
"Unless you would prefer to wait in Ratchet's room ..."
"No!" He shook his head. "Ratchet's recharging now, right? I'd haveta be quiet. And I'd just be sitting there and I really, kinda, don't want to sit alone right now."
"I could sit with him ..." Steeljaw offered.
"I believe you have a normal duty shift coming up, Steeljaw, and we're short on staff. We can't excuse you again without having someone pull a double."
"Yes sir." He turned briefly to Frenzy, and said, "I'll see you later, Frenzy."
Don't leave! He wanted to wail. However, Steeljaw swiftly finished his cube and headed for the door after Optimus dismissed him. He was left between the intimidating dignity of Optimus, and the enormous bulk of Skyfire.
Frenzy regarded the second cube of energon on the tray. Ratchet had given him a ration earlier. He never turned fuel down, and his fuel consumption was up as his auto-repair was still working on the damage from a few days before. On the other hand, he didn't want to get in trouble. He finally asked Optimus, "Sir, Steeljaw didn't know this - I'd already had a cube earlier. I don't want to take more than my share."
Optimus's smile was genuinely bright. "Thank you for being considerate, Frenzy. You're on unlimited rations for the next few days due to your injuries. We are, as you might imagine, a little short on fuel, but not so much that we can't spare extra for those with damage that need to autorepair. If you have room in your tank, you may fill up at need."
"Oh." He didn't have to be told twice, and he grabbed for the cube, half afraid Optimus would change his mind.
"Slow down," Skyfire advised, sounding amused. "You're going to get fuel in your air intakes if you drink it that fast."
"Frenzy," Optimus said, after his office doors swished shut behind them. He indicated his desk as he sat down. "Come here a second."
"I wanted it!" He started to protest, for what felt like the millionth time. And he still wanted it, though he'd have settled for Steeljaw standing next to him right now. Optimus was slagging intimidating.
Optimus quirked an optic ridge upwards. "That is good to hear. However, I was simply going to show you the paperwork I need done. Your hands are small enough to use a human pen."
"... oh." He felt incredible stupid, which annoyed him.
Optimus produced a box of forms, and a package of pens. He set both down on the table, and said, "Sparkplug and Spike help with this, but they've both been busy."
He peered into the box. It appeared to be full of invoices for parts and supplies. Someone had gone through the invoices, checking off and verifying that the purchased widgets were received, except for a few that had notes on them that things weren't received.
"Shipping and receiving?" He gave Optimus an incredulous look.
"There's a telephone on the shelf," Optimus indicated a land line phone, almost lost among a stack of data pads far bigger than it was. "I need you to call the distributors and follow up on the orders that were missing part."
"Tedious," he grumbled.
"Yes." Optimus rested his hand on Frenzy's back. He crouched, and looked at Frenzy, optics concerned. Frenzy started to shove his hand away reflexively, but the look on Optimus's face stopped him. "I thought you might like a distraction. I do need you to be polite and professional. Can you do this? I know you can be impolite, but I've also seen you show some remarkable self control. I thought this might be easier for you than working alone on maintenance today, or doing nothing."
"... Yeah." He looked away from the grave blue glow of Optimus's gaze. "Thank you."
Optimus squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "I admire your bravery, Frenzy. May I lift you up to the phone?"
He nodded, his vocalizer somehow frozen with a fierce stab of grief. It was strange how the sympathy of others seemed to validate his own pain, and magnify it. Optimus gently picked him up while he was still rendered mute, and set him down on the shelf. He finally managed, "... thank you. Umm, you're not what I was expecting."
"I believe that feeling is mutual." Optimus rubbed his back for a second, then returned to his desk.
He has so much potential, Optimus thought, as he listened to Frenzy talk to a distributor. He was more than a little impressed with Frenzy's ability to deal with mundane aggravations with tact, given his likely mood - and his history.
They'd only received half the amount of argon they'd ordered, and no helium, from this particular seller. Frenzy was handling the call with aplomb, and a surprising amount of tact, with fluid and fluent English. He is capable of being far more than just a warrior, Optimus thought, a smile touching his mouth.
Frenzy, Soundwave's minion, had doubtless been exposed to Decepticon politics for thousands of years. Since Frenzy's behavior would have directly reflected on Soundwave, Optimus had suspected that he would have learned to behave appropriately under stress - or risk Soundwave's wrath. This was proof.
The supplier was being stubborn, too. They'd paid a week ago for several tanks of the badly needed gases for welding, and the materials had yet to be delivered. First the excuse was that their truck was broken down, and when Frenzy had pointed out that this was a completely solvable problem given that they were selling to Cybertronians, they'd found other excuses. Optimus suspected that they were out of tanks and didn't want to admit it, because that would mean refunding a few thousand dollars.
Frenzy completed the call, apparently without a resolution by his irritated expression. He glanced over at Optimus, then rolled his optics and held up the handset. "It would be easier just to steal what you need from their warehouse, you know. Give me a lift and I'll get it for you tonight."
"We do not steal." He pretended shock. The kid was joking, which made Optimus quite happy to hear. Then, when Frenzy gave him a wide-eyed and worried look, he said in as dry a tone as he could manage, "However, if they do not ship the parts by tomorrow, I may give you a lift to their office during business hours. Your mere presence would doubtless convince them to expedite the order."
Frenzy giggled, eyes lighting up in delight that Optimus was bantering with him. "You're on, boss."
Then ... something shifted in his expression. His mouth pressed together in a thin line, and he turned back to his stack of calls, looking grim again.
Ratchet had said, He's hurting so bad, Optimus. We have to give him reasons to live or he'll find reasons to die. If he's found a reason in Steeljaw, I cannot in good conscience take that hope, that attachment, away from him.
Optimus didn't like it. A relationship that started in the way that theirs was, he thought, almost certainly doomed to fail. This was particularly true when one partner was emotionally unstable, and there were so many real issues that would crop up between them. He worried that, if and when Frenzy's nascent relationship with Steeljaw fell apart, the kid would be doubly devastated. His mental state might be worse than simply grief and guilt, if heartbreak were also involved.
It would be very easy to dismiss Frenzy as just another Decepticon. If he chose to die of his grief, some Autobots would say who cared? He'd chosen to be a 'con in the first place, and had gotten what he deserved. Optimus had heard those sentiments many times.
For him, Frenzy represented something bigger than just one small, devastated mech. In Frenzy, or more specifically in finding the ability within himself to care for a Decepticon, Optimus found hope for the future. Someday the war would be over, and they would be one people again. Then, they would need to learn to live together once more. Frenzy - and Soundwave - were reminders of this.
His troops needed the reminder, too. And so Optimus was leading by example, pointedly and personally treating Frenzy well. It was easier than he had expected. Frenzy, it turned out was likable.
And he was hurting so very badly.
It was easy to respond to that pain with sympathy and concern. Easy to see him as just a troubled youth, not a 'con. It wouldn't be easy for some of the others, but Optimus would work on them.
Impulsively, Optimus rose. He needs to have something to live for, Ratchet had said. It would be a struggle, but he wanted to try to integrate Frenzy into the base's daily life. He would give Frenzy a place where he belonged, where he was valued and cared for, with friends of his own.
Frenzy looked up as he approached, visibly tensing and putting the phone's handset down on the receiver. Optimus crouched to be on eye level with him, and rested a hand on Frenzy's shoulder. "Frenzy, you're doing a good job. Thank you. Would you like to spend a few hours helping me every morning?"
Frenzy grinned. The tension faded from his small body. Relief showed, probably in reaction to Optimus's honest affirmation that he was doing his job properly. "Sure, boss," he said, "Be happy to."
"Excellent."
And then Ratchet pinged him. Optimus answered, a bit chidingly, :Ratchet, you should still be recharging.:
:I got a few hours. Send the kid on over. 'Aid's done.:
.
Soundwave came to awareness slowly. At some point, he registered that he was probably partially sedated, because his thoughts were slow and his sensors fogged.
He reached out for Frenzy across their bond, trying for words at first. He was able to generate only static, and he got a blat of static back in response. He onlined his vocalizer, with the same results, though the static that answered him came from multiple voices this time.
When he booted his optics up he found that Ratchet was standing next to the bed, watching him with warm blue optics. The medic looked haggard, his handsome features drawn and tired. They overworked him, Soundwave thought, which would make his goal of becoming the medic's assistant all that much easier. He needed help that he didn't have.
How long had he been out?
He couldn't read his chrono. It could have been hours, or years, that he had been out of commission.
Abruptly, he remembered the reason for his period of stasis.
He remembered the crash.
Terror.
He remembered Ratchet, hacking him. He remembered fighting back. He remembered fierce, terrible fear.
He started to shrink away, fear overriding dignity.
More memories flooded back. He remembered the feel of Ratchet's very spark. Kind. Competent. Assertive. Brave. Bold.
His fear faded as he remembered what Ratchet had felt like. They had been deeply connected. Before he'd lost consciousness, Ratchet had lowered his firewalls to win Soundwave's trust. It had been a risky, reckless move, and it said an amazing amount about the medic's character. He cared, truly and deeply, about others ... and he had the power, the authority, the strength of character and of convictions, to back that caring up.
Soundwave shut his optics off. He'd worked for a lot of masters over his lifetime. His number one priority had always been to find someone with power. It had always been a pragmatic decision on his part. He'd been insignificant and inconsequential once in his life, and it had cost him everything. He had resolved never to be in that position again.
He'd never met a mech like Ratchet who was in a position of power. It was new. Different. He wasn't sure what to make of it, or how, precisely, to approach Ratchet. He'd thought the mech a sucker, but he wasn't naive or foolish. He cared, but he had the power, position, and confidence to back that caring up with real authority. He could afford kindness.
A warm, firm, capable hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed, then stroked his plating in a purely platonic manner. Then something was pressed into his hand. He realized it was his visor, and he reached up to put it in place.
Only when his expression was safely hidden behind visor and mask again did he risk a look at the medic. Ratchet had moved a bit away, and was fiddling with a display for something. He realized, belatedly, that he was still hooked up to a host of machines. A quick survey of the shelf beside the bed told him he had a spark monitor connected to his chassis, as well as several other devices. When he traced the lines to his body, he realized a port had been permanently installed just below his clavicle strut, and the wires were plugged in to it.
He poked at it. It appeared one of the devices was monitoring his power plant, and another his energon tank levels. A third showed a multitude of other readings - probably pressure in his hydraulics and temperatures and voltage and the like. Were they really necessary?
Ratchet caught his hand, and shook his head firmly, warning him to either not touch it or not disconnect it. He wasn't sure which. He wasn't stupid enough to pull the wires out, but he wondered why he was connected to monitors. Apparently, the medic thought they were necessary. He'd figure the reasons out later. It didn't seem important right now.
Just how close had he come to dying?
He realized he was probably still quit sedated, or possibly the medic had installed some restrictive emotional coding. He should be more upset than he was.
He reached up and discovered he had wires connected to his cranial case, and likely hardwired into his processor. There was another new port just below his jaw.
Ratchet grabbed his hand this time, fingers very firm. He shook his head, then pointed. Soundwave saw that the wires ran to a datapad on a bedside table. Hope flared. Had they figured out a way to connect a hard line into his processor, perhaps to bypass his damaged connections? He couldn't think of a way to make that work, but Ratchet was reputed to make miracles happen.
Ratchet handed him the datapad. His spirits plummeted when he couldn't read the words. However, by the steady pattern of lines of data that were ticking by, he suspected that Ratchet was monitoring the stability of his operating system in real time.
He had suffered a cascade failure. They were almost certainly watching for early signs of a repeat of the problem. He should have died ... he'd known he was dying when the errors had begun. He had not wanted to die, for he would take Frenzy with him when he went.
He was amzed that Ratchet had rebuilt his code the hard way, after connecting through the damaged connections to his language processor. Very few medics would have had the knowledge, clock speed, and creative problem solving abilities to do so. He was good with code, but that would have been beyond his ability to do alone.
He glanced over at Frenzy. Frenzy was curled in a ball in the chair, radiating waves of abject misery across the bond. The kid met his gaze, then glanced sharply away. Frenzy felt like he was partially blocking his feelings, but he could still detect nearly overpowering levels of guilt, worry-fear, and miserable confusion. Mixed in with that was aching emptiness and desperate loneliness.
The kid had so very much to live for. Soundwave knew he should be more alarmed by the emotions coming from his symbiont than he was. He was definitely sedated with something pretty potent.
Ratchet said something to Frenzy. Frenzy shook his head slowly. Soundwave watched with passive interest as Ratchet crouched down next to him and spoke quietly for a moment. Frenzy finally let Ratchet pick him up, and Ratchet lifted him up to the medical berth next to Soundwave.
He should have been embarrassed to want to hold Frenzy like a sparkling. Whatever the medic had done to him had stripped that away, too, and he didn't even care. He reached out and wrapped his arms around his last, lone, precious symbiont and pulled him into a tight embrace. Frenzy was his, and he would do pretty much anything to heal the hurt in his spark.
Frenzy was stiff, resistant, for a bit. Slowly, he relaxed, however. After a bit, Frenzy put his head down on Soundwave's chest and just lay there, systems slowing down as his emotional state eased. Soundwave could feel just a little of the hurt fade.
I'm here, he thought. Soundwave will not leave you too.
He would not leave if he had any choice in the matter. He'd fight Unicron himself to keep Frenzy safe. Aside from his core programming - he was hard coded to protect his symbionts - Frenzy was really all he had left in the world.
Given the way that Frenzy was now clinging to him, maybe Frenzy felt the same way.
He stroked Frenzy's back. After a bit, he felt his systems begin to power down. He let recharge take him, too passive to fight it.
When he woke again, he knew immediately that the drugs were ... less.
He had no idea what time it was. That alone made him anxious.
Frenzy had his head resting on Soundwave's shoulder, but he was still awake. The kid felt hungry, and his emotions were still awful - dark, aching, lonely - but the searing guilt and grief of earlier had abated. He didn't know how long he'd been in recharge, but it had been long enough that Frenzy needed to refuel.
He didn't seem to be running low, which was odd. Had Ratchet fueled him up while he was out? No ... he couldn't tell if he was full or empty. He couldn't ping his tank or power cells.
Sensors, damaged, he realized, grimly. His energy gauge was apparently not working right. He probably did need energon. He wondered if the Autobots had enough to spare.
He pushed himself upright, ignoring the spinning of the room. The bank of monitors he was connected to probably included a display for his fuel status. It suddenly felt very urgent to know his energy level. That was so basic, so critical, and he couldn't read it! He wrapped an arm around Frenzy to support him so he wouldn't slide off as he moved.
Frenzy winced, drawing his legs up. The flash of minor pain from his symbiont was unexpected, and highly suspicious given the location. He forgot about fuel, and turned his full attention on Frenzy ... whose sense of guilt had intensified tenfold.
There were no secrets between bonded mechs, normally. However, he had been unconscious - in profound stasis lock, likely - for an undetermined length of time. He honestly didn't know if he'd been offline for hours or years. Frenzy had been freshly painted the last time he'd seen him, with gleaming, richly layered blue, by a master artist. He'd looked better than he had in years. Soundwave kept his symbionts as waxed and clean as he could, but it had been awhile since he'd had the time and resources to paint them himself.
Frenzy's paint job still looked great, but it was scratched in places. Grimly, fear twisting his spark in whole new ways, Soundwave studied the damage. It was distinctive. Mechs who had an active interface life learned to buff those sorts of scratches out, but Frenzy hadn't done so, either because he didn't have the supplies or was too depressed to care. The insides of his thighs, his chestplates, and his forearms were scuffed and scraped.
That, alone, would not have been damning, but there were scratches on his interface cover.
Still not proof, but when Soundwave looked down at the dome of metal between Frenzy's legs, Frenzy's anxiety peaked and he tensed. As he tensed, another spike of pain crossed the bond. His guilt and shame intensified, and he wouldn't look at Soundwave.
The reason for Frenzy's bleak mood was suddenly crystal clear. He'd been hurt. The guilt, the shame, the anger, the way he kept curling in on himself, into a tight ball of misery... it was all too damning ... while Soundwave had been helpless and unconscious someone had hurt him.
Anger roared through his systems. Frenzy recoiled from him in shock, fear in his optics.
He was going to kill whoever had touched his symbiont. He wanted to end them.
Frenzy violently struggled free, clawing and kicking. He tried to keep his grip, but the kid terrified. Frenzy thrashed free and scrambled across the room to the door. It slid open and Frenzy bolted ... straight into Ratchet's legs.
He could hear Frenzy sobbing something at Ratchet, his emotions a wild whirl of fear and anger and terrible, terrible guilt. Ratchet growled something. Frenzy calmed a bit, crossing his arms over his chassis and looking sullen. Both of them glanced up at him.
He started to struggle to his feet, fully intending to track down the slagger and turn him to scrap. Someone had touched his symbiont!
Ratchet brushed Frenzy out of the way and efficiently shoved Soundwave back to the berth. Soundwave fought for a moment, but he was so uncoordinated he couldn't win. He subsided, recognizing a losing battle even through his fury.
The medic pointed imperiously at all the machinery that Soundwave was hooked up to. Then he produced a pair of restraint cuffs from his subspace and held them up. The message was clear. Soundwave would find himself restrained if he didn't stay put. Frustrated, he pointed at Frenzy and growled, inarticulate rage that needed no language to convey.
Frenzy spun around and ran with a sob.
Ratchet's look was scathing, and aimed squarely at him. The medic just stood there, glaring at him, for several minutes.
Did the medic know what had happened to Frenzy? Did he care? Soundwave tried to sit up, at least, and Ratchet held the restraint cuffs up again. Soundwave pointed after Frenzy desperately. He didn't want Frenzy out of his sight. He could feel Frenzy's upset, slowly subsiding but being replaced with anger.
Ratchet sighed heavily and walked over to the monitors. He studied them for a minute, then started disconnecting equipment. After a minute, Soundwave was left with one datapad hooked to the port on his shoulder. Ratchet then helped Soundwave sit up and, to Soundwave's indignation, manually popped his chest plate latches.
Soundwave tried to shove him away, objecting. He didn't know what Ratchet wanted. Ratchet simply caught one hand and gave him a pointed glare. Soundwave could have argued, but he thought Ratchet was going to let him up. He decided to let Ratchet get whatever he wanted to do, done.
Ratchet simply attached the datapad to the inside of his armor with a magnet after slipping the cable in through a seam. Soundwave realized, belatedly, that Ratchet probably didn't want to risk him falling on it.
The medic then hauled him to his feet. He stood, swaying, waiting for the dizziness to fade a bit. It wasn't as bad as when he'd first been injured, but it was still disorienting. After it was clear he wasn't going to topple to the ground, Ratchet guided him towards the door.
His initial impulse to kill the fragger who'd hurt Frenzy was still strong, but his logic was returning. He didn't know who'd done it. Size wasn't necessarily a limiting factor; there were any number of ways mechs with a significant size mismatch could interface. He couldn't just go tearing out of the med bay, scan the minds of every Autobot he came across, and then terminate the culprit ... he was crippled, wounded, unable to fight.
Ratchet maneuvered him through the doorway and out into the main med bay. Frenzy was standing with his back to them, staring blankly at the wall, arms folded and shoulders hunched. He looked - and felt - miserable, in a multitude of ways.
He tried to call out to him, but managed only to make the usual inarticulate staticky noises. Frenzy flinched, his guilt intensifying. That was wrong ... why did Frenzy feel guilty? What had happened was not his fault.
Ratchet lowered him into a chair, and walked over to Frenzy. He crouched, and said something to him that sounded a little sharp. Frenzy shook his head viciously, looking defiant and sullen and angry. Ratchet snapped a snarky comment at him. Frenzy threw his hands in the air. Soundwave tensed. Ratchet looked annoyed, then visibly forced himself to show sympathy - Soundwave could see it was a bit of an effort.
The med bay doors slid open, admitting an knee-high feline symbiont. Steeljaw moved with easy and relaxed grace. He stopped short, however, when he saw Frenzy.
Frenzy saw him ... and Soundwave's world shifted on its axis. Frenzy's emotions changed, from angst to relief. He ducked past Ratchet, dodging an attempt to grab his arm with graceful ease. Frenzy stopped a few feet from Steeljaw, and Soundwave detected hesitation and longing. His loneliness was less, his guilt, more.
Oh, Primus.
Soundwave fought down fierce emotions of his own that had replaced the anger at the unknown - and, if he was reading the situation right - nonexistent rapist. Dark jealousy, bitterness, and impotent rage at fate swirled through his spark, making Frenzy flinch and look back at him.
Frenzy was his. He'd given the twins their freedom, and they had come back to him of their own free will. He had formed a bond with them on a day full of hope and optimism for the future, grateful that he had found two more souls he could utterly trust. He'd had utter faith that Frenzy would be his until the day one of them died, and then perhaps even beyond ... Frenzy was his.
His symbiont glanced at him, looking miserable. The guilt was back, stronger than ever.
Symbionts were hard wired to bond with strong, competent, powerful mechs. They had evolved that way; survival of the fittest included surviving because one's carrier was the fittest. Usually, a bond was for life, but not always - self preservation was a factor. It was not unheard of for a symbiont to break a bond if a carrier became unable to protect and care for them.
Aside from needing to bond to the strongest carrier he could find, Frenzy was also desperately lonely. Soundwave could feel that in his spark. He'd been bound to his twin from creation, and bonded to his other bond-siblings and Soundwave from a very young age. However, Frenzy was now effectively alone in his head.
Frenzy was now staring at Steeljaw, standing several feet from him, and hugging himself. Steeljaw had sat down on his haunches, and regarded Frenzy with his head tilted to one side, as if trying to puzzle him out. Steeljaw said something that made Frenzy shift uneasily from foot to foot. Soundwave watched helplessly, feeling the longing in Frenzy's spark.
There was another carrier on the base. Blaster was battle hardened, well ranked, and clearly capable of protecting his own band. In Blaster, Frenzy would get a kind, supportive master ... one who would even be a better match for Frenzy's personality, if Soundwave were honest with himself. He knew his normally cool, logical personality sometimes clashed with Frenzy's tendency to think with his emotions first. Under the guidance of a master like Blaster, Frenzy would truly flourish.
Along with Blaster, Frenzy would also get a pack of siblings much like the ones he'd lost. He had to be missing them fiercely. Blaster's symbionts couldn't replace Soundwave's other cassettes, but they could provide the companionship, support, and family that he had to be missing.
And Frenzy might have been a 'con since before the war began, but he also had a substantial number of valuable skills. He was very good fighter, had considerable practical knowledge of communications engineering and repair, and he was a better than average programmer and hacker. He was likable; despite his well deserved reputation for a hot temper, he could be charming and sociable.
And, very clearly, he was already getting along well with at least one of Blaster's symbionts.
He watched, clenching his jaw, fists balling, as Steeljaw rose and took three steps closer to Frenzy. The feline cassette leaned against Frenzy's chest, optics closing, body relaxed with trust and affection. Frenzy's mood shifted again, even as he put his arms around Steeljaw's neck. The guilt was stronger, the worry more intense. He stared up at Soundwave with wide optics.
The guilt made sense, now. Soundwave guessed that Frenzy was thinking of breaking the bond. It would be a good, logical, if cold-sparked, decision for Frenzy to make. Blaster would surely take him. It wasn't like a symbiont could hide anything from a carrier. The Autobots would not need to fear betrayal from Frenzy. It would be a good life for Frenzy, as Blaster's symbiont.
The sense of betrayal, of jealous anger and possession, shook him. Frenzy was his. He would not let some Autobot take Frenzy away from him. And he wasn't about to let some strange symbiont lure Frenzy away.
He had just plain had enough.
He lunged with a wordless, inarticulate snarl at Steeljaw, intending to wrest him from Frenzy's grasp and quite possibly shred him limb from limb. He expected Frenzy to dodge out of the way. Instead, Frenzy shoved Steeljaw back, and got between Soundwave and Steeljaw. Frenzy was screaming something unintelligible at him, spark boiling with fury and hurt and a sense of outraged betrayal.
He couldn't keep his balance and he went crashing to the ground. He scrambled back to his hands and knees, trying to lunge again before the pit slagging medic could stop him, before Steeljaw could get away. He would not let this happen. Frenzy was his! Frenzy was all he had left in the universe.
Frenzy boldly stomped closer, gesticulating with his hands. When Ratchet tried to move closer, Frenzy shouted something rude at him. Ratchet stopped. Frenzy continued his tirade at Soundwave. The meaning of his words were both incomprehensible, and very clear. He was pissed. He stomped his foot. He pointed at Steeljaw. He balled his fists and leaned forward and yelled some more.
Steeljaw, behind Frenzy, met his gaze. He got the strangest impression that he was being sized up, as if the other mech could see clear through to his spark. And then Steeljaw calmly moved forward, up behind Frenzy, and pressed his head between Frenzy's shoulders. He gave a gentle push, encouraging Frenzy to step forward towards Soundwave.
Confusion shot through Frenzy, mirroring Soundwave's own reaction. However, prodded by Steeljaw, Frenzy walked to within touching range of Soundwave. He wanted to grab his symbiont, but he forced himself to simply reach out, holding his hand out, palm up, as if coaxing a wild thing back to him.
Frenzy glanced from his hand up to his optics, and then back down. Then he rested a small hand in the middle of Soundwave's palm. He was so guilt-ridden, so terribly miserable, so furious, that Soundwave reached out with his other hand and hesitatingly and awkwardly stroked Frenzy's arm. He wished he could make it all better, but nothing in the world could bring back everything they'd lost.
Steeljaw quietly leaned against Frenzy's back, and raised his foot to Frenzy's shoulder. The paw transformed into fingers and he stroked Frenzy's other arm. Frenzy calmed a bit, and glanced back at the other cassette.
A low curl of desire rose amid his feelings. There was desire, and longing, and a fondness that verged on real love. Soundwave's hand stilled. Frenzy was so unhappy, but he'd clearly found someone special in Steeljaw.
Feelings of jealousy warred with inadequacy. Confusing him further, he was pleased that Frenzy had found some small shred of happiness. Frenzy was a social mech, and he needed friends. He'd worried that, as misft as they were on a base amid Autobots, that Frenzy would be incredibly lonely and friendless.
He wondered again how long he'd been in stasis.
He wondered what would happen to him.
Was he repairable? Would he auto-repair again? He didn't know. Clearly, his language centers were disconnected from his sensors again. He might never regain the ability to speak, to understand.
Frenzy said something, very low, to Steeljaw, flickers of worry and fear in his spark. Steeljaw rubbed his back, then stepped boldly around Frenzy and he, too, put his hand in the middle of Soundwave's palm. Deep blue optics searched his visor'd faceplates, though Steeljaw certainly couldn't read anything of Soundwave's expression.
A few days ago, he would have been horrified by the thought of his symbiont in any sort of a relationship with an Autobot - particularly another carrier's cassette. Frenzy was relaxing, however, and there was clearly trust between them. He felt better. He felt good enough that, for the first time, Soundwave had real hope that Frenzy might truly be okay someday.
At the same time, he was terribly afraid he might lose Frenzy to Blaster, if Frenzy found a partner in Steeljaw.
He was even more afraid that might be the best thing for Frenzy.
He couldn't bear to feel Frenzy so miserable.
He wished he could tell Steeljaw what he was thinking: that he'd accept their relationship, whatever it was, so long as Steeljaw didn't hurt Frenzy. He'd rend Steeljaw limb from limb and damn the consequences if the Autobot betrayed Frenzy in any way.
All he could do, however, was simply nod to Steeljaw. He then reached up, caught the edge of the closest medical berth with one hand, and heaved himself, swaying and unsteady, to his feet. Ratchet ducked in to try to support him, but he waved Ratchet away.
Soundwave didn't want to lose Frenzy to the damned Autobot. That meant he needed to learn to function again. Figuring out how to walk was the first step. Communications, shortly thereafter, would need to follow.
He would not lose. This was a battle he would fight to the death, if need be. Frenzy was his.
Thus inspired, he took one shaky step away from the medical berth. The world seemed to lurch around him, rolling and spinning. He ignored that, focusing on the position of his limbs and orientation he could determine from his optics. No matter what his sense of direction told him, he disregarded it in favor of his optics.
It was difficult. Deeply rooted coding made him instinctively sway against the false data from his sensors. If he listened to that input, it seemed as if he was about to slam into the ground at a high rate of speed, or, alternately, fly off in zero gree. The world seemed to spin like a gyro for a moment, then flip completely upside down.
By the time he made it to the far end of the room and fetched up against Ratchet's work bench, his vents were puffing and his motor running hot. It was, apparently, hard work to override and fight against his instinctive movements. However, he'd gone a good twenty strides without falling. He turned, cautiously, to see what they thought.
Frenzy was grinning, and feeling genuine relief and happiness. The kid gave him a thumb's up as he watched. Ratchet, to his surprise, had a smile on his face as well. Ratchet had not followed him across the room, but had remained standing next to the others.
Steeljaw was leaning against Frenzy. As he watched, Frenzy brought his hand up and deliberately stroked Steeljaw's shoulder. It wasn't a pat like Frenzy might have given Ravage, but rather the caress of a lover. Frenzy's optics met his, full of challenge and defiance still.
He nodded acceptance, and let that feeling cross the bond between them. He had no other choice. If Frenzy had found a lover, he would be foolish to stand in their way.
Frenzy reacted with relief. There was still guilt there, and miserable sadness, but Soundwave could feel the potential for healing in his spark. Frenzy would be okay.
He just refused to lose him.
Resolutely, he started back across the room. He'd practice walking until he mastered it, and then proceed from there. He would not be a cripple and he would not lose his symbiont because he was an unfit carrier.
He would recover.
He would be useful.
He would not lose this battle.