Chapter 32

Soundwave woke to the realization that he was utterly, and absolutely, alone in his head.

He blinked optics that were unshielded by his visor. High above his head, an arched cement roof - likely the roof of a bunker - was painted Autobot Orange.

He reached out for his symbionts.

And felt nothing.

He refused to panic. There were explanations for that lack of contact besides their death. He was in the custody of the Autobots, and they could have done any number of things to him while he was unconscious.

He checked his chronometer, and compared it with his last memory. That memory was backing his memory and core personality up onto a data cube. They had been planning a mission that he had judged to be unusually risky and - he'd thought privately, both pointless and foolish - and he had elected to back himself and his symbionts up beforehand. Three earth months had passed since that memory, according to his internal clock.

He was alone. His spark echoed with emptiness.

He didn't panic, not yet. The Autobots were crafty, and their scientists were good. It was possible to generate a damping field that would mute a bond, though the field was good for only very short ranges. It seemed impossible that all of his symbionts were dead.

His next discovery, as he reviewed his situation with his optics off, was that his processor had been swapped out. That was a rather extreme repair, one not normally performed by Decepticons, and rarely by Autobots.

A processor replacement did explain the time loss, however.

His new processor was not as powerful as the one he'd been given as a brand new sparkling. It took him a minute, but he found the registration information and the detailed specs on it. It was new equipment, not salvage, and seemed to be an experimental model. While it couldn't support quite as many separate processing threads as his original processor the clock speed quite a bit faster. That wasn't a bad tradeoff, though he would need to adapt some of his code to the new specs for maximum efficiency.

He reopened his optics. His motor controls were enabled. However, his emotional protocols were definitely damped down, likely via both programming and chemical throttling. Someone didn't want him to panic, or grieve unduly. That was odd, however, as an excess of emotion was frequently useful when interrogating a prisoner.

"I know you're awake," a voice said, not unkindly. "My name is First Aid."

He lifted his head from the berth to find the Protectobot medic standing by his berth. "Designation, known."

"Good. Tell me your name."

"Soundwave," he said. "Reinstallation of core coding and memories in new hardware detected. Deduction, Soundwave's original processor core destroyed. Presence of First Aid indicates Autobots conducted repair."

First Aid beamed, eyes crinkling into a smile, though his mouth was hidden by a blast mask. "Excellent."

"Soundwave, will not cooperate with interrogation." If they expected him to be grateful for the repair, he wasn't about to extend that emotion. He suspected they'd only saved him because he held vital secrets. (Though he wondered why had they given him such a powerful and rare processor. It would only make it harder for them to hack him. He was already tweaking his firewalls for added protection in anticipation of Autobot interrogation.)

First Aid rested a hand on Soundwave's shoulder with unexpected familiarity. Despite the emotional damping protocols, he barely managed not to flinch. "It's okay, Soundwave. The war's over. That's how we got your backup cube - Starscream gave it to us. Megatron's dead, by Astrotrain's hand, and you were instrumental in helping end the fighting."

"My symbionts?" Megatron ... dead?

"I'll get Frenzy. Jackie, watch him for me, will you?"

Frenzy. Soundwave closed his eyes. Frenzy. So they weren't dead. He couldn't feel anyone, but First Aid's words implied that perhaps they were alive. He was now certain that he was within a damping field. The Autobots likely feared his telepathic mods.

Wheeljack appeared, and helped him sit up. His limbs felt uncoordinated and awkward. He knew without being told that it would take awhile for his new processor to sync with his frame.

First Aid reappeared, with Frenzy trotting at his heels. His symbiont looked haggard, face drawn. His Decepticon sigil gone. Fresh welds marked his plating. But he was alive. Somewhat to Soundwave's surprise, Frenzy also had a blaster bolted to one forearm and an energon blade magnetized to his thigh.

"Frenzy," he said, "Report."

Frenzy stopped short, optics narrowing. Then he barked a laugh, and said, "I wouldn't even know where to begin, Boss. 'Aid, give me a boost up. My right thruster's not working right yet. Ratchet hasn't had a chance to get to it."

Soundwave was shocked by the easy familiarity as First Aid scooped Frenzy up and set him down on the medical berth at Soundwave's side. Neither flinched from the other. Both seemed comfortable in close proximity. Frenzy didn't even trust most Decepticons enough to allow them to pick him up.

"Where are the others?" Soundwave demanded.

Frenzy sighed, and settled down in Soundwave's lap. It was an unexpected, unusual, move for the normally tough little mechling. Even in private, Frenzy usually showed a certain degree of what the humans termed machismo. He never curled against Soundwave's chest and clung to him as he was doing now.

"I'm sorry. They're dead." Frenzy whispered this. "It happened about three months ago. I know you can't remember. I know this is fresh all over for you."

Oh.

Convulsively, he wrapped his arms around his symbiont. "I can't feel you."

"Yeah. I know. There's a lot you need to know before they remove the damping field. We don't want you doing anything you'll regret to people who love you." Frenzy rested his head on Soundwave's chest, over his spark, oblivious to the fact that they were in the middle of an Autobot med bay. "Soundwave, boss, I thought I'd lost you forever."

Frenzy filled him in on the details, sparing nothing. It was odd to be alone in his head, and odder to sit and talk to Frenzy without the constant feedback of a spark bond between them.

Frenzy seemed older somehow. His symbiont looked deeply tired, but there was a strangely quiet confidence to his words. Where he had once buzzed with youthful energy and bravado, he now seemed to spare little energy for excess movement. He wasn't severely depressed (though he candidly admitted to grieving for his twin and other siblings) but he wasn't himself, either. On the other hand, he seemed to be far more physically affectionate, and sat willingly in Soundwave's lap or curled against his side.

The Autobots generally left them alone. Once released from the med bay, he was assigned a private room with Frenzy. First Aid checked on him every few hours, and Smokescreen twice a day. Optimus came by occasionally, calling him my friend, and assuring him that when he was ready, they would find him a position in the nascent New Cybertronian government. Starscream stopped in once, but had little to say except to ask when he was going to get to work.

He didn't feel like working.

He'd lost most of his symbionts.

He'd gained, and lost, a bondmate.

A bondmate he never saw. Ratchet stayed out of his sight. First Aid let him know this was deliberate, on Ratchet's part. Ratchet was keeping his distance until Soundwave was willing to see him. First Aid also threatened to eviscerate him if he harmed the medic, a threat that Soundwave took seriously from the normally pacifistic medic.

:He might do you physical harm,: Frenzy told him, after that conversation with First Aid. :I'd break the bond with you if you hurt Ratchet. He's a good mech and he loves you.:

:Damage to Ratchet, not planned.: He was shocked by Frenzy's words. The Autobots had not removed the damping field that covered the whole of the Ark, and he couldn't feel Frenzy's spark to judge if his symbiont was telling the truth. Somehow, he suspected he was.

Soundwave didn't know what to think.

After several days of recovery in his quarters and a bit of physical therapy conducted by Wheeljack, he was assigned work. Smokescreen came by with an armful of fried circuit boards and sensors, a soldering gun, and a spool of solder. He dumped everything on the desk in his quarters. "Fix these. Take them to the med bay when you're done."

After the psychologist had left, Frenzy had said, "Ratchet's working double shifts catching up on everyone's deferred maintenance and old injuries. He probably needs the help."

"Autobots, behind on repairs?"

"No, everyone. Decepticon, Autobot, both. 'Cons are worse off than the 'bots are, though." Frenzy picked up a dermal sensor array and turned it over in his hands. "Ratchet is really exhausted. He's working himself into the ground, I think because he's worried about losing you and he doesn't want to think about it. He's a good mech, you know. You should talk to him."

"You have said this."

"He won't let me help him. Wants me to spend all my time with you." Frenzy cast Soundwave a sideways look. "Been cooped up in your quarters for a week now. I'm getting bored, much as I love you."

"I cannot protect you!" He worried about Frenzy leaving his sight. He couldn't protect him. He didn't trust anyone, Autobot or Decepticon.

"I can defend myself if I need to." Frenzy held up his arm, displaying the hefty blaster on it. It appeared someone with real skill had modified a hand blaster so that it bolted to his struts and had a neural trigger. "And I have friends here. I miss 'em."

"Steeljaw."

The cybercat had come by as well, a few times. Even had he not seen the truth in the memories that Ratchet and Frenzy had given him, he would have recognized the body language between Steeljaw and Frenzy.

He wanted for forbid the relationship. Frenzy was all he had in the world. He didn't want to risk losing him. Frenzy needed friends, however, and Soundwave recognized that. Also, Frenzy had a new air of confidence about him that had never been there before. Soundwave knew the worst thing he could do would be to forbid Frenzy his freedom, as much as it terrified him.

"Not just Steeljaw." Frenzy met Soundwave's gaze with a bold, almost defiant look. "I've been invited to a poker game. I'm going, tonight."

He knew that he could not stop Frenzy from going. He didn't try. Moments later, his symbiont left him alone. With the bond dampened, he couldn't even feel Frenzy to know if he was okay.

In the silence of his private quarters that evening, Soundwave repaired what spare parts he could, and broke the rest down into their constituent components for recycling. Then he loaded everything into buckets and found his way to the med bay.

He expected one of the junior medics to be on duty. It was late.

Instead, he found the (sturdy, powerful, attractive) red and white frame of Ratchet, back to him, bent over a mangled frame on a berth. Ratchet was hard at work on a Decepticon.

"War: Continues?"

Ratchet looked up, startled by his voice. "S-soundwave."

Soundwave set the buckets of parts down on a convenient surface. He should have felt awkward around this mech, but it seemed Ratchet had the monopoly on uncomfortable reactions. The medic looked like he wanted to run away. In a way, that was reassuring.

"G-good. I needed those parts. And no, not war. Stupidity, this time. Stunticon versus train."

"Victory: Train."

Ratchet barked a laugh, nervously. "You can go, I have this handled."

He could see by the colors that the mech was Wildrider. He walked closer, wondering if he could help. Ratchet backed up.

"Ratchet: Frightened." He stopped short. "Harm, not intended."

Ratchet shook his head, denying that. "I just ... it's hard to even look at you, slaggit."

"Query: Why?"

"You don't remember." Ratchet sighed. "But I do."

"We were bonded."

"Yeah, we were slagging bonded. We planned on a future together. And now I've lost you, and it hurts."

Something in the medic's tone, bitter and resigned, made Soundwave cross the med bay floor in two quick strides. He could tell that Wildrider was stable, and that Ratchet was just doing cosmetic body work. By the tone in Ratchet's voice, and the look in his optics, he needed a break.

"You still love me."

Ratchet folded his arms across his chest. "So? You don't even remember me."

"Energon: Will you come?"

"You're asking me out for energon?" He asked, incredulously.

"Affirmative." He tilted his head, and surveyed the medic. Even exhausted, and with scuffs and dents on his frame, the medic was attractive. Soundwave had always liked sturdy, practical frames and Ratchet's design was supremely functional. He was older, experienced, competent, intelligent, and pragmatic. He was a survivor, and would fight with efficient skill in defense of himself or his patients, but he was never vicious nor mean. These were all traits that Soundwave appreciated.

He had been bonded to this mech, though he could not remember it. Soundwave knew why he had been attracted. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he'd admired the medic, in an abstract sort of way, for a very long time. The bigger question was, what had Ratchet seen in him?

"I need to finish up here. Then - yeah, we can get a drink, I guess. Pit, I could use one."

"I will help you finish."

"I ..." Ratchet hesitated, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

The work went faster with two pairs of hands. Ratchet, Soundwave noted, was familiar with his skills, and didn't question his knowledge or ability to perform delicate repairs. The medic said little beyond what was related to the work, but he kept looking up at Soundwave with cautious optics.

On the walk to the rec room, Ratchet admitted suddenly, "I've missed you. I know you don't remember me, but I've missed you. I like your company."

Nobody had ever claimed to enjoy his company before. Most mecha seemed to find him simultaneously intimidating and boring. For lack of anything else to say, he said, "Soundwave, finds Ratchet attractive and enjoyable company."

Ratchet threw his head back and laughed, much to Soundwave's chagrine.

"You do have a gift for coming right to the point, don't you?" Ratchet said, when he finally stopped chortling. "Oh, Primus, I needed to laugh. You're a handsome mech yourself, as far as I'm concerned."

"Intention, was not humor."

"I know." Ratchet casually rested a hand on Soundwave's back as they turned a corner in the corridor. "Primus, though, it is good to see you on your feet, and processing normally. Talking normally. Well, normal for you, anyway. And I know you can talk in proper English when you choose, so stop trying to translate badlands pidgeon into English by way of formal Vosian. You look great, Soundwave. Seeing you like this - it's worth it to me."

"Query: Explain further?" He paused, and decided that Ratchet was his bondmate and he could, should, be using informal language to speak to him. He rephrased his words and said, "Will you explain further?"

"I think seeing you healthy and whole again is worth any price, including losing you." Ratchet sighed.

"I am not lost. I am right here."

"Now you're being funny." Ratchet snerked. He was momentarily surprised that Ratchet had caught his deadpan humor, as even when he thought he was being blatantly, obviously, humorous most mecha simply assumed he had the emotions and language comprehension skills of a drone.

"Affirmative. I intended humor." He stopped in the middle of the corridor. They were alone; it was late, and most mecha were off shift and in recharge. "Ratchet, you bear the pain of a blocked bond willingly, and your joy that I am fully repaired is greater than your pain."

Ratchet shrugged. "I know you may not want to hear this, but I love you. I miss you, but that's okay. It's worth it. You can go on with your life, be whatever you want now. The war's over. You have amnesty. You're an accomplished scientist, you have phenomenal engineering skills, and Starscream's begging for you to resume a role as liaison between factions. You can basically write your own job description, and design your own future. And I know that won't make up for losing your other symbionts, but I think you're going to have a good life from here on out. You have such a bright future! And I'm happy for you. Because I love you and I want the best for you. I know you feel the same way about those you love, so you should understand where I'm coming from."

He didn't remember what he'd done to earn the Autobot medic's love. But as Ratchet observed, he knew what it was to place another's welfare above his own. He'd done it all his life. The truth of Ratchet's love for clear.

"I think," Soundwave said, softly, as he reached up to cup Ratchet's face, "that you want to be part of my life."

Ratchet looked sharply away. "I don't even know where to start. You don't remember."

"We start now," Soundwave said, simply. "I have seen the memories of the past three months that you and Frenzy have given me. I know the events. I know my actions, and I can infer my reasons why - including why I fell in love with you. From here on out, we can make new memories and live our lives together, as we both chose. If you will trust me, I am willing to trust you."

Ratchet nodded, and smiled. With a bit of a quaver in his voice he said, "So how about that energon, then?"

:Red, you can turn off the damper for Soundwave.:

:Are you sure?: Red Alert responded to Ratchet's request with typical alarm.

:Absolutely.:

When his bond flared back to life, he could suddenly feel Frenzy, who was gleefully triumphant.

~Boss?~ Frenzy said, surprised.

~Ratchet and I talked. Trust, achieved.~

~Oh, good. Now frag him until he reboots.~

~Frenzy!~

~Seriously. You both need it.~

~Frenzy, impertinent.~

~This surprises you why?~

~Frenzy, banned from quarters. Sleep elsewhere tonight.~

~Hah. Like that's a punishment.~ Frenzy's gleeful response accompanied a memory file with a few too many details of his most recent tryst Steeljaw.

~Not intended as punishment. You, too, 'need it.'~

Frenzy's laughter made him smile. Now that he could feel Frenzy again, he could sense that his symbiont was bruised but not broken. Frenzy was resilient, and would survive. He loved Soundwave with all his spark, and would never leave him, but Frenzy also deeply valued the new friendships he was forming. He was also truly in love with Steeljaw, and that relationship was bringing him real happiness even amidst the sorrow and nightmares of the last few months.

~Love ya, boss.~ Frenzy said, and then threw a fairly firm block up so he could pursue his partner in relative privacy.

Ratchet did not drink anything intoxicating when they stopped in the rec room, despite an offer of high grade from both Jazz and Sideswipe. This surprised Soundwave. The memories Ratchet provided indicated that the medic was fond of high grade, and sometimes consumed it to blunt negative emotions.

~I will not think less of you if you drink, as long as it is not to excess.~ Soundwave broached the subject with his usual blunt honesty.

~Huh?~ Ratchet looked up from his cube of plain, but nicely refined, solar energon.

~You often drink. Many mecha do. I understand the need for a coping mechanism. I do not like to drink myself as it when I lose my inhibitions the effect is sometimes unpleasant to those around me.~

~Huh?~ Ratchet repeated, with a bit more force.

~I am empathic and telepathic. It is generally not a good thing when my impulse control is weakened. Other mecha can tell when I read their feelings and thoughts, and the reaction is generally quite negative.~

~Oh. I can see how that might be a problem.~ Ratchet stared down into the depths of his fuel for a long moment. ~Most mecha object to having their privacy invaded.~

~Yes. Including myself. Thank you for allowing me time to come to terms with the bond with you. Had you been present when I first awoke, I would have reacted very negatively.~

Ratchet smirked up at him. ~Yeah, figured. You had enough to deal with. And pardon me for saying this, but I was a bit scared of what you might do to me. We gave you all your powers back because you have such a potential for being a force of good. We didn't expect you to wake up and be as reasonable as you were.~

~I believe in gathering all the facts before acting.~ Soundwave reached out across the table and squeezed Ratchet's forearm. ~My analysis is complete. You needn't fear me now. I loved you, Ratchet, and I think I can safely say that I still do.~

~Nobody's ever said anything that romantic to me before.~ Ratchet grinned at Soundave.

~Would you prefer: I love you more than anyone has ever loved before. I will love you until the last rotation of my spark. My love for you is as wide as the galaxy and as bright as an infinite number of suns ...~

Ratchet's peal of laughter drew a number of looks in their direction. ~Oh, stop it. You'll make my filters clog up with that dreck! I think I prefer your normal style.~

Soundwave grinned at him, expression clear because he'd opened his blast mask to consume his fuel. Then, far more seriously, the carrier said firmly, ~I love you ... because it is the logical thing to do. You and I have compatible sparks, careers, goals in life, morals, and personalities. We find each other's flaws tolerable, even over a very extended long term. We are physically attracted to one another. You have proven that you are caring and trustworthy. You love Frenzy, and he loves you. Your friends accept and encourage our relationship. You are willing to accept additional symbionts into our family and I like your friends. You want offspring, as do I. In short, not only do we have an emotional connection but we have a solid foundation for a lifelong relationship.~

~Love isn't always logical.~

~No, it isn't.~ Soundwave rubbed small circles with his thumb on Ratchet's forearm gauntlet. ~But compatibility is required for a relationship to continue in the long term.~

~You're not wrong.~ Ratchet caught Soundwave's hand and pulled it to his lips. ~But how about we go back to my quarters and I remind you just how compatible we are?~

Soundwave's laugh made most of the mecha in the rec room look at him with surprise. Some had probably never heard him laugh before. The carrier said aloud, "Proposal: Acceptable."

Ratchet accepted Soundwave's hand up. The carrier smoothly and steadily pulled him out of his seat, then bent over and claimed a kiss. Ratchet, more than a little turned on by the power he could feel in Soundwave's frame, returned the kiss with real interest. The room erupted in cheers and catcalls. From somewhere on the far side, Frenzy shouted, "Get a room!"

"Later, you glitchwits!" Ratchet waved a hand vaguely at the room in general, and then let Soundwave tow him towards the door.

Life, he thought, was going to turn out just fine.

~Fin

Author's notes: This story has been an awesome ride. Thank you all so much for the wonderful feedback. I'm sorry if I haven't responded to each and every one of you individually! I never expected this story would be so popular, or that I would enjoy writing it so much. The last few years have been a bit rocky for me in the real world, and Real Life delayed my finishing Adjustments even though I had the entire store plotted out in my head. Thanks for sticking with me.

I'm mulling over ideas for a sequel. I may write a sequel to this (I deliberately left a few plot strings untied with "sequel" in mind), or I may go on to a new story. I haven't decided yet. I could use a beta reader, if someone wants to volunteer. I can return the favor - I'm a lot better at spotting other people's typos than I am at finding my own! :-)

I will be working on Masks, too, though I haven't decided yet if I want to reboot it or pick it back up where I left off.

I will always write fanfic. I love writing in the Transformers universe for the flexibility the world provides. It has so many archetypical characters, yet the canon itself is varied and divergent and the fanon is a ton of fun. What's not to like about giant hermaphroditic alien robots? There's just so much you can do with that concept. Expect more Transformers stories out of me.

I've been writing stories for basically as long as I can remember. I expect I will continue to write for the rest of my life. However, please note that I do not write as fast now as I used to as I have some problems with my vision and real-world commitments (like running my own business) which slow me down greatly.