Chapter Nine
Ratchet wished he'd been able to get thoroughly intoxicated, but he was not confident enough in the repairs he'd done to Soundwave to allow himself that luxury. He would not be able to bring Soundwave back from another crash if he was drunk on high grade. Off duty or not, he was always on call for cases as complicated as Soundwave's, and Soundwave had gone from "serious" to "incredibly difficult" with his cascade failure. There was just nobody else at the base who had his experience.
Therefore, he was unhappily sober when he returned to his quarters very late that night. The single cube of high grade he'd consumed during the poker game was not nearly enough to impact a mech of his mass.
Skyfire looked up as he entered, a smile touching his lip plates. The jet was seated somewhat awkwardly on Ratchet's couch, dwarfing the furniture. He looked like he needed recharge. Ratchet felt a bit guilty for keeping him up late while he'd blown off some steam playing poker with Wheeljack, Sparkplug, and Smokescreen, but this was actually part of Skyfire's assigned duty shift. Skyfire had the lowest seniority of anyone with anything that would pass for medical training, so he was getting the lousiest hours.
"How is he?"
Skyfire nodded at the bedroom. "Recharging peacefully. No change to his stats. I'm on shift for another half hour, if you want to go do something …"
"Nah, I'm good. You're dismissed. Jazz is playing movies in the rec room right now, if you want to go catch the end of Speed."
"Thanks for the warning."
Ratchet chuckled at Skyfire's dry tone. Skyfire definitely wasn't the action-movie sort. He was an attractive mech, Ratchet thought, but a little too stuffy.
"I think I'll turn in early, then. Thank you, sir."
After Skyfire had let himself out, Ratchet stuck his head into his bedroom. Frenzy was sitting in a chair, arms folded across his chassis, and staring moodily at nothing. As the monitors indicated, his master was in deep recharge.
:You okay?: he comm'd the kid.
:Not particularly. Nothing you can do about it.:
:Need to talk?:
:Yeah. To Soundwave. You can't fix that.:
He couldn't. He sighed. :Did you eat, at least?:
:I'm not a sparkling.:
:C'mon. I'll fix you some energon.:
:High grade?: Frenzy said, hopefully.
He considered the request, then smiled. :Yeah, sure. C'mon. You can have the drink I've been wanting.:
:Eh, I'll pass. No fun getting overcharged alone.: Frenzy unfolded from his fetal position in the chair and stood up, then hopped to the floor. :Some of that sweetened energon you made earlier would be good, though, I guess:
He held the door open, then casually boosted Frenzy up to the counter. As he did, he noted Frenzy had recently buffed his paint on his legs and chest, and smelled faintly of soap, like he'd just visited the wash racks. Ratchet manage not to smirk as he asked, "How'd your day go?"
That got him a wary look. "Okay."
"Uh-huh."
Frenzy was standing with his arms crossed over his chest and looking very defensive. He didn't believe that he was 'okay.' However, demanding an explanation from the kid would get him nowhere. Ratchet got a cube down from his cabinet, popped the seal, and poured a Frenzy-sized serving it into a glass. He added the sweeteners and a generous helping of the additives that he knew Frenzy's still-repairing systems needed, the put the glass in his microwave to warm up.
After a moment's contemplation, he made himself a similar glass with the remaining contents of the cube. At a loss for anything else to say, he volunteered, "I used to make energon sweets all the time, but I've never had the time since we arrived here on Earth."
Once upon a time, he'd had a small medical practice. He'd been well known for spoiling sparkling patients with treats. He quietly missed those days. It had been so long since he'd seen a real sparkling. Frenzy, with his small stature, youth, and wounded spark, was the closest thing he had to those innocent children so long ago. Frenzy was no innocent, and no child, but Ratchet still found himself wanting to spoil the little mech shamelessly.
Not that he would ever admit to the impulse to anyone.
Frenzy smiled faintly. "One of my creators made sweets for me'n Rumble. Primus, I haven't had an energon gummy in a thousand years."
He resolved to find some time in the chemistry lab in the near future. He wanted to see that smile again. There were very few Autobots who would understand - other than Optimus - but there was just something incredibly rewarding about healing the enemy. That included healing emotional trauma. He could never take Frenzy's grief away, but he could make the kid feel at home here, and accepted, and comfortable and secure in his life. If he and Optimus worked at it, Frenzy would fit in with the others, as long as Frenzy didn't betray their kindness.
He didn't think the kid would. What was he going to do, run back to Megatron? Hardly.
Only after he'd sipped at the energon did Frenzy said, "Steeljaw's somebody special."
"He is." Ratchet had known Steeljaw for a long time. Steelie, like the rest of Blaster's symbionts, sometimes seemed to live in Blaster's shadow, but he'd interacted with the mech personally enough to recognize his intelligence and real decency.
"What happens to me - and to him - if we were to, you know, merge or maybe bond?"
He stared at the kid over the top of his glass of energon. That was not a question he'd expected. Then he looked down into the energon for a moment and finally said, "I really wish this was high grade."
"It was a serious question."
"Isn't it too early to even think about that?"
Frenzy shrugged, a bit sullenly. "M'life sucks."
"Join the club, kid."
"I'm not a child!"
"I know. I also call Sunstreaker 'kid'. I've got close to a million years on you, I'm entitled." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know, kiddo. There's a lot of complications, there. From what I understand of your kind, you need approval of his carrier and siblings … as well as your own."
"Yeah, I know.." Frenzy frowned into his own glass. "It's approval I don't think I'll ever get - but what about from a political standpoint?"
"He's a special ops mech. He has to have a very high security clearance. If he's bonded to someone without that level of clearance, he would default to the other mech's level of clearance, which means he couldn't do his job anymore. On top of that, I think I'd have to say Blaster and his entire team wouldn't qualify for special ops field work anymore. There would be too much risk of compromise." Hard words, he knew, but Frenzy needed to know the score.
Frenzy seemed to sink in on himself. "Yeah, what I shoulda figured out first … hurts like slag to really get interested in some other mech then not be able to, you know, have them."
"You didn't merge …" alarm thrilled through him. Had they merged? It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Frenzy would have been desperate enough, and Steelie lonely enough. However, he would have thought that Steeljaw would have more sense. Blaster would never have approved of it, either. Blaster was too loyal to the Autobot cause, and too self-sacrificing, to let one of his symbionts compromise their whole team.
Half the bonded pairs he knew had happened accidentally, as compatible mechs got carried away in the heat of passion and made it permanent.
Frenzy glanced upwards at him. His mouth twisted into something smile-shaped, with no joy behind it. "No. And I won't. Not if it will hurt him.."
"Praise Primus for mechs with common sense." He really, really wanted a drink. This was a complication they didn't need. Though, granted, the two were being smart and deserved points for resisting their urges.
On the other hand, if Frenzy was thinking about merging - and Primus help them, bonding - he wasn't likely to croak from grief any time soon. He might even survive Soundwave's demise. Falling in love was something that would give him hope and dreams for his future. He didn't want to squash those dreams, though he saw a million obstacles in their way.
Frenzy snorted. "Ratchet, this is completely crazy. Me. An Autobot. I don't know what to do."
"Do?"
"I …" Frenzy sighed. "I want this. Now. But it'd hurt him if we went too fast, didn't get everyone's approval. I won't hurt him. But I'm so slagging alone, Ratchet. I don't even know if I really … really care about him, or if I'm being selfish. He's a good mech. I don't want t' hurt him. Know what I mean? And it'll hurt me like slag if this doesn't work out, too. Him, too. He's never gotten a fair shake from partners before. It's like with Ravage, nobody ever saw him as a mech, they just saw a primitive. Steelie's not an animal, he's a person. A good person. An' I guess he's not used t' people seeing that."
Ratchet thought that this had to be one of the most surreal moments of his life. He had a former Decepticon symbiont angsting in his quarters over an Autobot, and he found he was trying to think of ways to help the mech make it work. "You're a good kid. Not all mechs would see things the way you do."
Frenzy's level of sophisticated self insight, and empathy for Steelie, surprised him, until he thought about it … Frenzy had been bonded to at least one other mech since creation. For most of his life, he'd been part of a team of several mechs. He'd clearly loved his brothers, and Ratchet suspected that the relationship between them had been deeper and richer than most would ever believe..
"I … can't hurt Soundwave, Ratchet. I can't. And Steeljaw understands. He can't hurt his brothers or Blaster, either. I guess I'll just have to wait until Steeljaw and I could merge and not cause all kinds of problems doing it. That will be never, probably. Primus, my life sucks right now."
"I'm sorry, Frenzy."
Frenzy flung his free hand into the air. "I just wish I could blow something up or get in a really good fight and I can't even do that."
"Slag, I know that feeling." Ratchet snorted. "It'll work out, kiddo. Just give it time. You're doing fine with us."
That got him a sudden and surprisingly bright smile, which Frenzy tried to hide by sipping at his energon. After a moment, Frenzy said in an earnest voice, "Ratchet, thank you."
"Mmm. Don't get mushy on me or you'll annoy me."
"I don't do mushy." Frenzy's smile changed to a scowl.
"Good. Because I can't stand mushy."
"Sir," Frenzy's grin was back. "In that case, we're gonna get along beautifully."
He smiled back.
Frenzy paused a beat, and then added, "So why do you make energon sweets again?" And then before Ratchet could respond, he retreated with a, "G'night, sir. Thanks for the fuel. It's time for me to get some recharge!"
Soundwave came online to an awareness of a small, warm weight on his chest. Slowly, he lifted his hand up and found Frenzy's reassuring presence. Sometime after he'd slipped into recharge, Frenzy had apparently come in and decided to recharge curled up on top of him.
He stroked Frenzy's plating, wishing he could talk to him. Frenzy stirred, and lifted his head up, and reacted with worry and confusion for a second, then sat up and said something soft and sad sounding. The kid then slid off him, headed into the other room, and returned with a somewhat sleepy looking Ratchet in tow.
Ratchet helped him sit up (though Soundwave didn't think he really needed the help) and checked the monitors after he did so. Then he squeezed Soundwave's shoulder comfortingly. Soundwave found he didn't resent that touch, and actually welcomed it. He'd touched minds with Ratchet, had seen what was in the mech's spark, and he found his wariness of the Autobot had evaporated. Touch appreciated … he thought, surprising himself, even as he (just barely) managed keep from leaning into the mech's hand. To his disappointment, Ratchet moved away after a moment.
Fool, he thought at himself. While he truly trusted Ratchet as much as he trusted anyone who wasn't bonded to him, he couldn't afford to get too attached. Still, the warmth and gentleness of that touch was alluring.
Ratchet produced a cube of energon from his subspace and offered it to him. He accepted it, and started to share it with Frenzy, then realized Frenzy already had his own cube, and he could tell it was warmed and sweetened by the odor. Frenzy glanced up as he briefly reached towards him. Frenzy's gaze in his direction was accompanied by a fierce stab of guilt, anxiety, and faint overtones of anger.
He was worried about Frenzy. That thread of anxious concern made Frenzy look sharply away from him. He had no idea what to do about Frenzy's mood, so he sniffed his own energon, which proved to be plain. He didn't know if he should be disappointed or relieved. He was not a sparkling, to desire coddling and treats. Not adult, he thought, of the energon. He definitely didn't want Ratchet to perceive him as juvenile.
Ratchet caught him checking his energon, though, and traded a look with Frenzy. With his slagged sensors slowing him down, and his coordination off, he wasn't quick enough to stop Ratchet from whisking the cube back out of his hands. Frenzy grinned at him, pointed in the direction Ratchet had gone, sipped his energon, and gave a big thumb's up.
A few moments later, Ratchet returned with the cube heated and adulterated with the sweetener. Soundwave studied it suspiciously, for more reasons than just a desire to appear adult. Among Decepticons, there was absolutely no way he'd trust another mech (other than his symbionts) to do anything to his energon. He fueled out of the common dispenser, under the belief that nobody would be so stupid as to poison the main tank, and nobody else's digits touched his cubes.
However, he also knew he was being illogical. Ratchet had hacked through his firewalls, had been in his head, had probably seen a good bit of information about his life, and was still treating him with care. Moreover, the medic had probably had already accessed every bit of his frame, if what he understood about his level of damage was correct. However, he still couldn't reach for the cube and take it. Old habits died very hard.
A moment ago he had not been wishing wistfully for a cube of sweet energon of his own. Now he couldn't bring himself to accept it. He told himself the reason was that he was vaguely offended by the offer, and not reacting with paranoia to a kind gesture by a mech he trusted. He wanted Ratchet to care for him. Clearly, this was evidence that he was achieving those goals with very little effort. He should be accepting the overture. He couldn't bring himself to move, however.
He told himself the only reason was that he didn't want to be treated like a child. This was a sparkling's beverage.
Frenzy gave him a puzzled look, clearly reading his suspicion. Then his expression cleared as he understood, at least partially. He said something to Ratchet, who rolled his optics and took a healthy swig from it, and handed it back. Ratchet looked mildly annoyed, even as he thrust the cube at Soundwave for a second time.
Somehow, Ratchet's irritation made it easier to take the drink.
He clicked back his mask and sampled the energon at last. It was good - sweet, thick, warm, full of rich metallic tones and a fair amount of expensive cybertronium. He knew he needed the rare metal for his welds to heal properly, but he was surprised that Autobots would spare more than the bare minimum on him.
Ratchet patted him on the shoulder, then quickly disconnected the monitors attached to him and hooked up the portable datapad. Then, after a final comforting squeeze to his arm, and another smile, he left that room.
That smile could have undone him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or smile in response. Nobody had looked at him like that, like they cared, in so very long. He was Soundwave, inscrutable, dangerous, and with the emotions of a drone, as far as anyone else in the Decepticon army knew. Frenzy, in reaction to what he felt, gave him an odd look.
Ratchet cared. Nobody had cared about him in a very long time, other than his bonded symbionts. Even before the war, he'd learned bitterly hard lessons about trusting others. Mechs he'd thought of as family had betrayed him, rejected him, and cast him out of their world. He tried to tell himself that the Autobot was behaving normally for an Autobot, and his plans to win a place as a servant under the Autobot medic were proceeding well. He tried to tell himself that the affection and genuine concern from the Autobot didn't matter to him except as a good sign promising success. He shouldn't be feeling an answering twinge of warmth in his own spark.
Megatron had valued him, and he had thought that value would translate into caring, or at least a sense of obligation. He had been bitterly wrong. It was the same lesson he'd learned so long ago, and he should not have forgotten that hard, ancient lesson when it came to Megatron.
By contrast, he had no value to Ratchet, not yet, not as a useful servant, but the mech still cared enough to risk his own processor by dropping his firewalls in a desperate bid to gain his trust. He'd felt the depth of Ratchet's concern, and the medic's devotion to his craft, and the worry that Ratchet had held for an enemy soldier. Ratchet believed so strongly in saving lives, and in the essential worth of all people, that he'd been willing to risk his own life to save Soundwave's.
That smile, aimed his way, was a dangerous, dangerous thing. It would be too easy to forget his goals in the face of that smile. It would be too easy to care right back. Ratchet, as a superior, was absolutely ideal, as far as Soundwave was concerned, but he told himself he needed to remain logical. He wanted the mech for a boss, not a friend.
Frenzy was still staring at him. He met his symbiont's startled gaze with narrowed optics behind his visor, mouth twisting into a grim line as fear stabbed at his spark. Frenzy could say things to Ratchet that Soundwave would rather he not know. Frenzy couldn't see his expression, but his symbiont could certainly detect his mood, and the little mech jerked his gaze away and hunched up.
With the thought of the dangers of Frenzy talking to Ratchet threatening to stall his processor, he decided it was time to get up. He heaved himself off the berth and held onto the wall for balance for a second. The world spun and he locked his joints against the perceived motion. After a moment, he set his sights on the door and cautiously stepped towards it. Frenzy scrambled out of his way as he swayed and staggered, but he made it. He was going to move under his own power.
Ratchet looked up, a quick glance in his direction, as he entered the main room. The medic didn't come to help him, for which he was grateful. He was tired of being hauled around like an invalid.
After making a "follow me" gesture, Ratchet simply headed for the hall.
The Autobot moved slowly so he could keep up, and it was amazing to Soundwave how normal it felt to walk beside another mech. He staggered and stumbled and the world rolled around him, but he did manage to stay on his feet. Once in the med bay, Ratchet patted him on the arm, then pointed at a chair. He nodded and sat down, but was then surprised when the medic stepped up very close to him.
What?
Ratchet reached for Soundwave's visor. Soundwave recoiled reflexively as Ratchet's fingers approached his face. Ratchet, patiently retreated a little, then held a hand out, palm up, clearly asking him to remove the visor himself. He never took his visor off in public. His optics revealed too much about his mood. He strongly preferred to be a mystery to others, even as he watched them closely.
Less relevant now, the visor had also been integrated into a number of his systems, including advanced optical targeting for his weapons. It also was capable of displaying visual feeds from his symbionts, and from remote spy cameras. All those capabilities were lost now, since he couldn't generate the commands to operate them - and his weapons were gone.
Ratchet waited patiently for him to hand over his visor. Soundwave told himself his resentment and annoyance aimed at Ratchet for simply trying to take the visor was illogical. Ratchet almost certainly had some sort of medical procedure in mind, and was acting as his medic. Anxiety over an unknown procedure replaced his irritation. What did Ratchet have planned?
Soothingly, Ratchet ran a hand over Soundwave's shoulder, then crouched to be on optic level with the sitting Soundwave. The medic tapped the side of his own face, then mimed taking a visor off.
Soundwave, reluctantly, reached up and clicked it free. Ratchet flashed him another one of those startling smiles of approval, took the visor with careful fingers, and rose. His knees creaked as he did, making Soundwave suspicious that the medic didn't take as good of care of himself as he did of his patients. He blinked optics that weren't used to unfiltered light as Ratchet carried the visor over to his work bench. Curious and worried all at once, he heaved himself back to his feet and followed.
The medic wasn't the slightest bit afraid of him. Soundwave peered over the Autobot's unflinching shoulder as he worked. Ratchet had his visor hooked up to a data pad, and he seemed to be doing something to the device's code. Once he finished that, he unscrewed an access panel, and soldered in a small bit of electronics. Then he offered the visor back to Soundwave.
His visor now had level in the heads-up display, showing orientation.
He dipped his head experimentally. There were lines representing all three axises. He blinked, realizing that was something he could definitely work with. It would make determining up from down a lot easier. The idea was simple, creative, and a completely unexpected kindness.
Ratchet clapped him on the shoulder, then walked off to greet the day's first patient. Soundwave stared after him, very glad that nobody could see his expression. He was dumbfounded, again, by the medic.
He was still standing rooted in place a couple minutes later, trying to process why Ratchet was being so very kind, when Wheeljack walked in. Frenzy, who had been following Ratchet around, looked up at Wheeljack's entry and said something questioning. Wheeljack responded with what sounded like an order. Frenzy nodded, and trotted out of the room.
Out of Soundwave's sight.
Out of his control.
The other was out there - the one Frenzy had a relationship with. The mech that Soundwave didn't know, couldn't control, and who he didn't understand.
He was so alarmed by the possibilities inherent in Frenzy's departure that he took a quick step towards the door. Enhanced visor or not, he just didn't have the balance to make moves like that. He went crashing to the floor with a tremendous bang, making Ratchet jump and his patient - one of the minibots - laugh. Ratchet cuffed the minibot in irritation, then went to offer him a hand up.
Frenzy. He was so desperately worried.
Ratchet tilted his head to one side after pulling Soundwave back to his feet, and clearly seemed to be communicating with someone over his comm. Then he pointed at a monitor mounted on the wall. It was now displaying an image of Frenzy, as seen from a security cam. Soundwave watched, shocked by a yet another example of simple understanding and kindness from the medic, as the display showed Frenzy's progression.
Apparently, the kid was being given janitorial work. He relaxed, watching as Frenzy got a bucket and a mop out of a broom closet and headed for the rec room. There, he started cleaning up spilled energon near the dispenser. It was an incredible relief to be able to watch as Frenzy mopped.
Frenzy was working harder and more willingly than Soundwave had ever seen. Apparently, he was trying to impress the Autobots. Across the bond, Soundwave could detect a low undercurrent of worry to his mood, as if he wasn't sure if his work would be deemed good enough. He was very thorough, too, even drying the floor with a handful of rags after cleaning the spill up.
Then Steeljaw moved into the frame. Frenzy's expression positively lit up, and his spark filled with unexpected happiness and real affection. It was so very clear that this was the mech he'd interfaced with. Soundwave remembered the young feline symbiont resting a hand in his and gazing up at him, as if seeking approval.
Frenzy had always been a good judge of character … and his reaction to Steeljaw said a great deal to Soundwave. Anyone who made Frenzy light up like that had to be treating Frenzy right.
He turned away from the screen, not wanting to watch them interact. What happened if he lost Frenzy? He couldn't bring himself to block out Frenzy's emotions, however. He had been worried he would never feel Frenzy happy again, but Steeljaw was bringing him joy. This left him with terribly confused feelings. He wanted Frenzy to be happy, but the cost to himself was terrible.
After a moment, he sighed and decided he needed to find ways of his own to be useful. Frenzy was earning his keep, and Soundwave had to do the same if he wanted to work on his goal of becoming Ratchet's servant. The med bay needed sweeping … janitorial work was a tremendous come-down from being head of Decepticon communications, but it was probably the best he could do right now.
Ratchet watched him for a moment, as he hunted for a broom, them stopped him with a hand on his arm. He guided Soundwave to his work bench, made him sit, and then - to Soundwave's gratitude - plunked a large box of assorted diodes down on the desk, and handed him a tester. It had a simple red/green display, showing if the diode was functioning or burnt out. Ratchet demonstrated that he wanted Soundwave to sort the good diodes from the bad with a few hand gestures, then walked back to greet the second patient of the day.
After the diodes, were sorted, Ratchet gave him a box of small electric motors. He made two piles of those, working and not, and then found the parts to repair the burnt-out motors in a cabinet. He was winding the coils for the second motor when Ratchet wandered over again. The medic made an approving sound, patted him on the shoulder, and dropped another box of parts on the desk. He pointed at the sink, then walked away.
Soundwave peered in the box. It held gears and other assorted small mechanical bits. Most of them were crusted with grease and dirt. Apparently, Ratchet wanted them cleaned.
It was quickly becoming obvious that he wasn't going to need to try very hard to become useful to Ratchet. Ratchet had no problem at all with giving him chores. This pleased him. It also, apparently, pleased Ratchet, who seemed inordinately cheerful.
He had the parts cleaned and sorted by noon. Ratchet saw twelve more patients, doing mostly routine maintenance and minor repairs. Twice, the medic came over to pick a gear out of the growing pile of clean parts, and once he rummaged through the box of good diodes. The Autobots Ratchet was working on watched Soundwave with a mixture of curiosity and hostility, depending on the mech. He ignored them, since he had no need, ability, nor desire to communicate with them, other than to absently monitor them for true aggressive intent.
Stares he didn't care about, but he didn't especially want any new dents.
He struggled to his feet and started putting the parts away on shelves. Ratchet's supplies needed organizing, but that could wait until he was a little more stable on his feet. He was worried about falling and taking a shelf or two down with him. That would be embarassing, and would probably anger his new maswer.
He was still having trouble with balance, though not as much as before. The head's up display showing his orientation to the world was a tremendous help, as long as he remembered to focus on that and not what his damaged sensor connections were telling him. If he could understand his own code he would have written a script instructing his autonomic subroutines to base orientation on the visual display, but he couldn't do that if he couldn't read his own programming language. It took conscious effort.
He managed to walk to the shelf with the parts held in his hands, stack the boxes, turn, and walk back to the desk without more than a little unsteady swaying. He needed practice, he thought, and he ached to have some time in a proper training room, to relearn how to move.
A few minutes later, Ratchet walked up beside him, slid a hand under his elbow, and guided him towards his office. Soundwave, puzzled, let himself be led. Ratchet indicated he should sit in a chair facing his desk, and then claimed his desk chair with a tired-sounding grunt. Ratchet had been working hard for hours, Soundwave noted, without any sort of a break.
The medic turned his chair around on its wheels, rummaged in a cabinet behind him, produced a cube of energon and two glasses, and filled both. He added a solution of metal additives from a jar to Soundwave's fuel, then he made a show of sipping from Soundwave's glass before handing it to him, and smirked as he did.
Soundwave scowled behind his mask and visor, wondering if he was being teased playfully or nastily. Without his telepathic mods, he was left guessing. He decided to show no reaction at all, except to accept and sip the fuel. He probably needed to fuel, though he couldn't read his own gauges. The datapad monitoring his systems was attached inside his chest plates, where he couldn't see it.
Maybe Ratchet could give him a head's up display for his vitals inside his visor. Relying on a datapad, with an external connection, made him quite uneasy.
Ratchet produced a box from another cabinet, and dumped the contents out. Soundwave's optic ridges rose when he saw that the contents were a number of tiles with pictures and words in Cybertronian. When he tried to comprehend the words they were unintelligible, but he had no issue with understanding the pictures.
Ratchet picked half a dozen tiles out. Three were of animals, three were of plants - a flower, a tree, a cactus. He then gestured at the pile and pointed at Soundwave.
Soundwave rolled his optics behind his visor and added a different type of tree to the 'plant' pile, along with grass, a picture of lumber, a picture of a forest, and a picture of denim jeans. He was well aware that jeans were made of plant fibers. To the animal pile he added pictures of clams, a human infant, an amoeba, and a picture of a dog riding in a truck. He tapped the dog with one finger to make sure Ratchet understood the connection he was making.
If Ratchet wanted to know if he could generalize, there was his answer.
Ratchet had started smiling with the picture of the jeans. When Soundwave had gone through all two hundred or so tiles and sorted out everything that was a 'plant' or an 'animal' he gave him a thumb's up and scattered the tiles again. This time, he sorted the first several by the most predominant color on each tile. Soundwave thought was checking to see if he was registering information clearly about visible light.
Soundwave made a rainbow.
Ratchet laughed when he realized what Soundwave was doing, and shook his head. Soundwave, who was being sarcastic, was surprised by the real amusement from Ratchet..
Several of the tiles had images of traffic signs, including four with stop signs. Soundwave sorted those out into one pile, and all the 'yield' signs into another. He wanted to make it very clear to Ratchet just how much of his mental faculties remained - which were most of them.
Ratchet gave him an odd look, suddenly frowning. He grabbed three tiles at random, wrote a word on the back in English, and flipped them over so Soundwave couldn't see the picture. He picked three more out, and wrote the same set of words on the back.
He paired two words, then indicated Soundwave should do the same.
That was easy enough. Soundwave did. It was just a matter of matching the shapes. And then he stopped, hand hovering over the tiles, excitement coursing through his wires. He flipped the tiles over, showing two plants - Ratchet had written a word on the back, the same word for each, though one was a daisy and the other grass. Same with two animals - a cat and a dog, but the same word. And two vehicles, but also the same word.
English was a language of generalities, Cybertronian one of very specific meaning. His inability to read Cybertronian was a bandwidth issue; his language centers didn't have the connections left to handle the data. Cybertronian transmitted huge volumes of information, bundled into very rapid bursts of sound or radio waves. Much of the language processing for Cybertronian was hard code or actual hardware - there was meaning in tonalities, in duration of time, in changes in pitch, beyond anything a human could handle. English was different. It was slower, more general, with specifics indicated by the use of multiple modifiers to each word. To communicate in English required not just a knowledge of the language, but a knowledge of the culture, and the xenospecific assumptions, behind each word.
Instead of billions of words, English had a few hundred thousand - and far fewer words than than that in common use. He suspected he could effectively communicate with a few thousand words and modifiers. The thought was electrifying. His mind raced through the possibilities.
He wasn't sure he had enough auditory processing capability left to understand even spoken English. Right now, his English lexicon was stored and inaccessible in his language centers. However, there was no reason a visual representation of English couldn't be stored in the same part of his mind that handled processing visual data and identifying objects rather than processing language. There was certainly enough bandwidth to handle identifying written English words using object recognition routines versus actual language processing..
Just as he could identify a picture of a tree, he could learn to associate the word 'tree' with the picture - to generalize. The image of the word tree would mean 'tree' the same way a pine, an oak, and a palm were all trees. His mind could lump that image of the word in with the other types of 'trees.'
He would just need to learn to read English again, and store the data as visual symbols, not as actual words. It only rankled his pride a little bit that he'd need to use a simplistic human language for to speak. It was a clever solution, he knew it would work in a round-about way, and he was proud of his problem solving abilities. Now, all he needed to do was communicate the plan to Ratchet. Ratchet might even have grasped the same solution, given Ratchet's actions with writing the words.
He turned the tiles over and firmly stabbed his finger at the words on the back.
Ratchet's optics lit up. He grabbed a stylus from his desk and wrote something quickly in English. Perhaps he thought that Soundwave could read English now. He couldn't, but he was incredibly sure he could memorize the appearance of the words. Maybe, with time, he could even learn to read Cybertronian the same way, though at a very slow pace. English was a good start.
He shrugged, pointed at the words, and pointed at the tiles.
Ratchet frowned, clearly not quite understanding. He offered Soundwave the stylus.
Soundwave carefully copied the word on the back of one of the 'plant' tiles. Then he wiped the datapad's screen, flipped the tiles over, wrote the word again, and pointed at the pictures.
Ratchet still looked confused.
English had a symbol that meant 'question' - he tried to remember what it looked like. A curly character, he thought, and struggled to draw it. He pointed at it, and shrugged.
Ratchet shrugged back.
Slag it, maybe Ratchet would understand more if he could see Soundwave's expressions. He retracted his face mask and visor, baring his face. He pointed at the symbol, and raised both optic ridges in question.
Ratchet frowned at it for a second, then wiped the image and redrew it - facing the other direction and right side up. He lifted his own ridges in matching inquiry.
Soundwave stabbed a finger at the symbol, then at a picture. This would work, if he could get the mech's cooperation.
It took several more rounds of pointing and gesturing, and growing impatience on his part, before he convinced Ratchet to write English words on the backs of all of the tiles. Then Ratchet did him one better, writing multiple words. He suddenly wondered if Ratchet's sudden confusion had been an act, perhaps a test in itself of his mental faculties.
After Ratchet was done, he scanned through the words. It appeared that Ratchet was assuming his analytical skills were fully intact, because he'd given him a bit of a puzzle to decipher.
'Dog' was only on the back of the picture of a canine and 'cat' on the tile with a cat, but both had 'mammal.' He had printed 'animal' on the back of the dog, cat, bird, clams, and several others. The cat was a tabby, and got the word 'stripes' printed on it, along with a zebra. A car with racing stripes had an arrow pointing to the stripes drawn on the front and the word 'stripes' on it, as well. Every animal that was clearly moving fast in the pictures got the word 'run.' Vehicles were described as 'car' and 'truck' as well as the term 'vehicle' and then he drew and labeled parts of a vehicle - wheels, doors, windshield, lights. Ratchet followed this up with a sketch of a mech and words with arrows to the right part - hands, face, arms, legs, feet, optics, mouth, head, and more. Soundwave thought that these words were far more practical than nouns describing terrestrial creatures, and signaled his approval with a smile.
Ratchet smiled back, a bright and fleeting expression that was suddenly replaced by a faint scowl. Soundwave briefly wondered if he'd done something wrong, then realized that he'd seen Ratchet favor most of his patients with that same dour look. Still, Ratchet kept helping him, though the medic's defenses had clearly come up. Soundwave wondered what that meant.
By late afternoon, he had a working vocabulary of a few hundred words, mostly nouns and adverbs. It wasn't a useful vocabulary, because it lacked many needed verbs, but at least it was a start.
Finally, however, Ratchet leaned back in his chair, blew out a sigh from his vents, and pointed at a decorative human-style clock on one of his shelves. Soundwave nodded comprehension Apparently, they were out of time.
It was time to try out the language he'd been learning. He picked up the stylus and wrote, "Fuel?"
Ratchet met his gaze, and smiled that genuinely pleased smile again.. He leaned forward, and rested a hand over Soundwave's fingers. Soundwave tensed, still not used to touchy-feeling Autobots and not sure what Ratchet wanted, but all Ratchet did was squeeze his hand briefly. The touch, warm and friendly, did strange things to his spark.
Soundwave, being foolish.
It had been a very long time since anyone had treated him the way Ratchet did, for no apparent reason other than altruism. He told himself he was unwise to react so warmly to the medic.
He turned his hand over, caught Ratchet's fingers, squeezed back. He wished he could say thank you but he didn't have the words yet. He was being very unwise. However, he was compelled to indicate to Ratchet just how much his care meant to him. He'd already observed that Ratchet was incredibly busy, and yet the medic was taking time to help him when he easily could have assigned the chore to someone else.
Ratchet gave him a very, very surprised look, then pulled his hand sharply away. The scowl returned. He muttered grumpily, then rose and helped Soundwave to his feet. Despite his dark expression, however, his hands remained gentle.
He was being foolish.
He knew he was being foolish.
He told himself he wasn't disappointed at all when Ratchet left him in the care of Skyfire, a few minutes later. It didn't matter. He didn't feel abandoned at all.
At the end of his shift, Ratchet was in a better mood than he'd had for days. He'd managed to carve out four hours to work with Soundwave, and had been more than pleasantly surprised when Soundwave had figured out a very workable method of communication. He had simply planned on giving Soundwave some useful flash cards, after verifying that Soundwave comprehended enough to use them effectively.
That Soundwave might be able to learn to understand and use written English, when the far more complex Cybertronian language was out of his grasp, had occurred to him when the mech had recognized a stop sign in a picture. Soundwave had figured this out two nanoclicks after Ratchet, and had gotten quite insistent that Ratchet help him. His communication skills, even without language, were quite good when it came to making his needs known.
Ratchet had deliberately played dumb to test Soundwave a bit, and had been pleased by the mech's persistence and logic. He had suspected most of Soundwave's faculties were intact, but it had made his day when Soundwave's behavior had proven his guess correct.
Optimus leaned back in his chair, after listening to Ratchet's report of the day's events. "I would observe that he is the Decepticon communications officer for a very good reason," Prime murmured, finally.
"Huh. Good point." Ratchet ran a hand over his face plates. Given Soundwave's legendary laconic nature before his injury, and his disabilities now, it was easy to forget that he'd specialized in communications even before the war. There was more to expertise in communications than just maintaining equipment.
"How is he doing, medically speaking?"
"His systems are stable, as is his code. I've got him scheduled for surgery in a couple of days to install some workarounds for his damaged sensors, but that's minor."
"Good work."
"Of course it's good work." In reaction to Ratchet's half-grumbled response, Optimus's eyes crinkled into a smile that didn't quite touch his mouth. Ratchet added, "It'll be a few weeks before I'm totally confident he won't crash on us again, but with every passing hour, he's at less risk."
"Good. And Frenzy?"
He rolled his optics. "Suffice to say I was right about Frenzy glomming on to Steeljaw as a reason to live. I just wish I'd been a little less right."
"Ratchet?" Optimus said, "Dare I ask you to be specific?"
"You don't want to know. You really, really, don't want to know."
"Do I need to know?"
"Probably." Ratchet rolled his optics. "If not for various complications, like, oh, Steeljaw's job, and I assume a seriously upset pair of carriers, they might have merged. I'd be scandalized if I didn't find the whole thing amusing."
"Amusing?" Optimus kept a straight face, but if he wasn't mistaken, there was a certain glint of appreciation in the Prime's optics as well.
"Proof positive that younglings are idiots, regardless of faction." Ratchet shook his head.
Optimus just smiled, and Ratchet could see that he was having a mushy moment. Optimus was the biggest sap in the world. Optimus asked, "So, they are finding each other mutually compatible? No signs of friction between them?"
"Somewhat to my surprise, but yes, it's a love match. Apparently very much so. It's a tangled mess they're in now. Still, it might work out. Frenzy's a smart little mech, and he knows where his energon's coming from." Ratchet knew Optimus wouldn't take that statement the wrong way, and would read between the lines to understand Ratchet's sentiments. He didn't completely want to admit it, but he liked the kid. "I doubt they'll do anything stupid, Prime, but we can expect our little Romeo and Juliet to make doe eyes at each other for the foreseeable future."
"If he's thinking of a future with Steeljaw, he's not thinking of offlining," Optimus murmured. "It is a good thing for Frenzy, and perhaps for Steeljaw. It is merely inconvenient for us."
"Jazz will have kittens - I know he was hoping not to have to deal with potential security issues with Steeljaw, and by extension, the rest of his team," Ratchet predicted. Slyly, he suggested, "Can we not tell him?"
"I would suggest allowing Blaster to explain matters to Jazz." Optimus's smile crinkled up the metal around his optics.
"Excellent idea. There is a reason why you're Prime." Ratchet wanted to be a fly on the wall, as the humans said, when Blaster brought this subject up. Jazz was not going to be happy. He very was worried about one of his better teams becoming compromised.
Ratchet was less concerned. He figured that Frenzy would less of a security risk if he was in sappy gooey love with an Autobot. Frenzy was the type of mech loyal to people, not causes - and he seriously doubted Frenzy would betray a lover.
"I thought you didn't believe in true love, Ratchet," Optimus's tone turned just a little teasing. Few who knew Optimus only as Prime would believe he had a sense of humor, but Ratchet damn well recognized that tone. "I believe you are pleased by this."
He grunted, not bothering to deny it. "Busted."
Optimus's smile was very knowing. He glared. Prime's smile just grew that much broader. Optimus, he thought, knew him too damn well.