Notes/ I am re-posting this after I took it down yesterday. I had realized only after posting the original, that I'd grabbed the wrong file by mistake... one with an entire scene missing (close the end if anyone is confused and wants to reread for that missed bit) and a couple of changes here and there. Terribly sorry for the mix up...
This chapter is a little different in a way. Dialogue heavy (even for me,) and centred almost entirely on the story lines of Soundwave and Firestorm.
Stay posted, readers. I have some interesting... hmm... plot twists in mind that that will come up soon...
Soundwave set an empty container under the energon dispenser, pausing a moment, before he pulled open a drawer, looking over small tins filled with flavor powers. Cobalt, he decided quickly, reaching for the flavor, and shaking some power into the container. Exactly how Firestorm seemed to like her morning fuel most days lately. He pushed the 'dispense fuel' button, and grabbed the container again when it was full. He moved then to fill a second container – this one for himself. And with a slight silent laugh, he pulled open the drawer again, choosing a flavor for his own fuel too. Quickly he picked up both containers then, one in each of his hands, and crept quietly into the small living room of the tiny apartment.
"Firestorm," he called out slowly, hesitant in his calling, when he found the mini-bot sitting by the window, knees pulled up in front of her in a chair, staring out at what looked like not much at all, from the forty-second floor.
"Some fuel for you," he said simply, sure he sounded ridiculous to state that obvious fact while he held out the container in his hand. And he knew well she might just have usually laughed at him good naturedly for it. But that morning she barely blinked and didn't turn away from the window to even look his way.
"Drink some energon," Soundwave urged her. And he forced his voice into a tone that could not possibly have sounded forceful or pushy, while he offered the container.
To his relief, she took it slowly, and took an even slower sip from it. But after one small drink she just lowered the container again, her attention back on he window, and her fuel barely touched. She had barely had a drink of energon for days already, and that morning, it was clear she was somehow still not hungry for anything at all.
"Perhaps... you should talk to Ratchet," Soundwave suggested. His hesitation was clear in his voice, and he knew it. But he pressed on anyway, stepping closer to her, before sitting in the other padded chair close to window and looking outside along with her. He took a sip from his own container, hoping she may drink from hers. She did take another sip, but again that was it.
"He was nothing but helpful to me when I first came to the Autobot base," Soundwave said, trying just as hard as ever to find his words before he spoke then entirely out of order. "He's done so much for so many bots... And he has always said his office door and commlink are always open..."
"Knockout and Arcee then..." Soundwave tried, when Firestorm just shook her head, saying nothing. "Or one of them or the other... both of them have always been good for talking with as well... I will comm them if you would like... invite them to visit today..."
Again, Firestorm just shook her head, her attention barely straying from the window.
"Firestorm..." Soundwave said, trying his best without any real idea what to say next.
But she turned around then, to look at him with optics clearly tired from lack or any good rest in days. She held the fuel container absently, and just shook her head at him slowly for a moment.
"I... I don't want to talk to them..." she said quietly. And Soundwave leaned back slightly in his chair, relieved, at least a little, because at least she had finally spoken when she'd been so quiet for too long already.
"So... talk to me," he pleaded with her then.
She just stared at him for a long moment, optics blinking a little, dimming and brightening, only to dim again, before she reached out to set the fuel container she held, down on a table nearby.
"It is... strange to be the one who now speaks far more than you do," Soundwave said then, trying for some mild humour, only hoping for the best. He reached out, slowly taking her hand in his, relieved when she didn't move to pull it back from him again. He spoke up again in another moment. But this time he was entirely serious again.
"You've barely said a word since you've left the hospital. You've hardly had a sip of fuel. Firestorm... please... it's been three days already. Your systems are going to crash without real fuel soon."
He watched her turn away away, her attention right back on the window, and at all of nothing going on outside it. And his spark sunk in fear that she would full shut him out again – she had done that so much in the past four days he'd just spoken of. But then she turned again, to look back at him instead. Her optics blinked slowly once again, and she just stared at him just as if she'd really just seen him at last. For the first time, since the day he'd found her on the elevator floor, coolant tears quickly filled her optics. And she looked at him, hopelessly and blinking.
"I'm... broken, Soundwave," she said. And her voice shook hard with her spark wrenching cries. When Soundwave stood up, stepping forward at once to kneel in front of her still sitting in her chair, she threw herself into his arms, crying horribly against his shoulder panel, her body shaking hard. "I'm not safe on Cybertron... my... my own home. I'm worthless... I'm broken. I should be... be... seen as... as m... more then someone's pleasure bot. I'm dirty and disgusting... or at least I feel like I am... and no... no matter how hard I try to feel better I... I wish I could crawl out of my armour..."
"You are not worthless," Soundwave said firmly. "You are not dirty or disgusting. You are beautiful and smart..." he hugged her tight against his front panelling silent for a moment before he added, all to serious, "And you will always be safe on Cybertron. Because if any bot ever lays a single hand on you again against your will, I will painfully extinguish him."
"I... I can't stop thinking of those two bots that beat me up," Firestorm said. And her voice showed just slightly more confidence as she spoke a little more about the matter. Slowly she moved again, so that her head was away from Soundwave's armour, and she could look up at him, after he'd sat bock down in his own chair. "Every time I think about it, I still feel the pain and... absolute terror and helplessness. At night I try to recharge and instead I just wonder and wonder what I did wrong... what I did to make them hate me enough to do such a thing. I... don't even know them..."
"Firestorm, drink your fuel," Soundwave answered when she'd fallen silent again. His tone was firm and he knew he sounded almost too harsh for the circumstances. But he knew her well, or at least he hoped he truly did. And he trusted himself then, because he felt somehow like he was right in the hunch he was following.
He handed her the still nearly full container, watching her glare at him a second just as he'd expected. But slowly she took it from him, and just as slowly she sipped from it. And once she'd had another small sip, now lighter of spark since she'd spoken a little of her feelings, she drank nearly all of it quickly. Clearly she'd realized at last that she was truly hungry and in true need of the fuel she'd denied herself for days.
"I've always been helpless," she said, speaking again once she was done fuelling. "Windstorm... he always ran to my rescue whenever I needed rescuing from anyone. Just like you, he might have killed for me if things had gotten bad enough with any one bot or two. But my brother is gone now. And you aren't always with me. And you shouldn't be. I should be out on my own sometimes... I want to be, just like anybot does. But..."
"But, this can be a dangerous city, and you don't feel like you can possibly protect yourself alone..." Soundwave guessed at once, finishing her statement for her when she gave up on trying to find the words to. He watched as she just nodded her head, relief at being understood clear in her optics as she cried more tears.
"I'm a mini-bot," she explained, speaking again with at least come obvious confidence in herself now. And her look showed easily that she trusted him to understand and listen to her. "And... and I like being small. Well mostly I do... but I'm weaker than others. And I never learned to do a thing for my own safety but yell for someone who would came and save me, because I was too damaged once to do much else..."
"Firestorm, come with me," Soundwave said in answer to that. He stood up again from his chair and this time he crossed the room, pausing to call for Laserbeak, who flew from the recharge room at once – presumably from a perch she had been resting on in there – to dock herself with him without a protest. He crossed the room quickly, pausing in front of the creaky sliding door that lead out onto a small and still empty patio. He shoved the door open on its track, with a simple mental note to himself to make a try at fixing the stiff sliding roller on the bottom side later on. And quickly, he stepped outside.
Firestorm followed slowly, her steps so clearly hesitant and doubtful as she crossed the living room. But he just held the door open for her, smiling as she slowly joined him in leaning lightly against the railing that surrounded the little balcony. And he saw her smile just a little, the first hint of one he'd seen from her in days, at the fresh air and the true sense of the great heights she strangely loved so much for a grounder.
Soundwave moved quickly then, resting with his back to the rail for a second, before he reached out with his long cables. Wrapping them around Firestorm's small body gently, he pulled her against him, while she cried out in surprise. With another fast and sudden motion, he let himself fall backward over the rail, transforming as he did to his aircraft mode in a move likely more fitting of Starscream than it ever was for him, fired his engine and peeled away from the building fast. For the first time in too many long days, he heard Firestorm laugh then, while she squealed with happy surprise.
She held tightly to his cables that were wrapped around the middle of her body for a moment, likely from the sheer shock of flying when she hadn't expected to be in the least. But in just a tiny moment more she'd let go again, trusting him just as much as ever, to fly while he carried her with him. Instantly she was holding her arms out beside her again, much like a small youngling bot might do, so clearly imagining what it might have been like to fly on her own. And Soundwave, well aware of the smile on her face-plate from inside his own awareness folding into his alt mode, wondered with dismay why he hadn't simply thought to take her flying with him days before then.
"Where are we going?" she asked him, laughing. And Soundwave noted the happy calm in her tone as she spoke. He understood at once that she felt safe then. Truly safe since she was needlessly attacked and beaten. And remembering then that both attackers had clearly been grounders, he understood then with a start that she felt safe now in the air, where they could truly never reach her.
"To the base," he told her, smiling somewhere inside his alt mode, because his hunch still drove him to trust it.
But he flew in a direction leading exactly away from said base instead, turning hard to the east instead of the west, his mind made up to take the long way around and over the city, just to hear her laughter for a few more long moments if he could.
"The base?" Firestorm questioned, still calm and clear happy as ever while she was carried in the air. But her voice was curious too and confused. "What do we wanna go there for?"
"To use the training gym," Soundwave replied, explaining quickly as he banked hard to the left. He thought of rolling then, flipping over in the air, because his strange ever surprising grounder might actually laugh at such a move – even if he was considerably less adept at such aerial manoeuvres compared to many flying bots. But he feared that despite his hold on her, his trust in his own strong cables and her proven skill at holding on just as well as needed, she could still somehow fall. And so he decided against any such moves, continuing on instead straight and upright as he moved toward the base.
"I want to teach you to protect yourself," he said, as he dropped toward the familiar open courtyard, letting her gently touch ground before he transformed, dropping to his feet. She looked at him at once, with doubt clear on her face-plate. And he added, admittedly just slightly uncertain himself, "At least... I think I can teach you."
He knew he was strong. He knew he was fast. He knew that when it came to hand to hand fighting, either for survival or simply practice, his processor could easily work fast enough to plan at least five moves ahead and consider outcomes besides. But he had never tried to teach another bot before. He himself had learned only as a matter of survival. And he'd proven strangely good at it, it seemed only by chance. He'd never imagined he'd ever want to teach anything even remotely to do with the brutally of brawling to any bot all, and least of all to one like Firestorm. But he'd come to quickly understand now that such skills had their uses. And she needed to be to safe, and feel like she was.
"You think I can really learn...?" she questioned slowly, the second the pair began walking quickly toward the main doors that lead inside the Autobot base. She looked interested and hopeful, while at the very same moment doubtful and concerned.
"I have little doubt of it," Soundwave answered.
########
"In this sort of situation, you will easily find yourself backed against a wall," Soundwave explained.
He choose his words almost too carefully, trying hard just to think of speaking while he reviewed and analyzed motions that had become almost instinctive – motions he never seemed to think of at all anymore because of that.
Firestorm - her hands up in front of her face-plate, and her elbows bent in a blocking pose – took uncertain hurried steps backwards, moving fast toward the gym wall behind her, while Soundwave stepped forward right after her, proving his point.
"This is... this is where I might just yell for help," the mini-bot answered. She sounded helpless, as she lowered her hands.
"And what will you possibly do if no one is around to hear you, Firestorm?" Soundwave questioned. He smiled at her for a second in assurance, but his tone was serious. "Keep your hands up. Protect your head and face-plate, remember, until you move them to make a move."
"Right..." the small bot answered back. And she resumed her blocking again, while she appeared to consider. She frowned though in doubt when Soundwave reached out quickly, grabbing her arm gently. Her frustration then was obvious, and for a second she just glared at him, before looking down to the floor.
"How will you get out of this one?" Soundwave questioned, pushing to think a little. "Remember what I told you when we started..."
"Your optics?" she answered, though her answer was almost just as much a question. "If you were an attacker, they might just be a painful target..."
Soundwave just nodded at her as she went slowly though the motion of aiming toward his upper face-plate, with outstretched fingers and a steady, deliberate hand. And when he was pleased just enough with that, he gently grabbed her until then free arm too.
"Do not let me back you against the wall," he said, shoving her back gently to do exactly that. "You are vulnerable against walls and backed into corners."
He nodded, pleased when she slowly made a motion, after considering for just second, of planting her knee right into his interface panel, before stomping gently on his foot.
He walked toward the punching bags, hanging from from the ceiling high above in the centre of the room, relieved when she easily followed, pleased to see her hesitant and doubtful look fading, even if only a little. Without a word he slammed a fist into the bag just as hard as he could, before giving it three fast forward kicks and spinning quickly to give it another, followed closely by another good hit and then another. Slowly he backed up, and then quickly he ran toward it again, his feet leaving the ground for a second as one met the bag somewhere much closer to the top of it than in its middle, and as it swing back hard from the kick he'd given it, he hit it twice hard, once with each hand all before it swung away again.
"You... can't possibly expect me to do that..." Firestorm exclaimed, after she'd watched him for a moment, impressed as ever although she'd watched him do such things many times before. And the doubt."
"That would certainly take some practice and dedication," Soundwave said, allowing himself to laugh a little, while he smiled at her. "Though it's far from impossible." He paused then, smiling again, listening as she laughed a little, and glad as ever just to hear her do so.
"The ability to kick fast and hit as as hard as you can, are both things you will be glad for though, if the need to use such skills ever arises," Soundwave motioned to the punching bag. Encouraging her silently see just what she could do.
Firestorm just stood a moment, her body turning toward the punching bag, and doubt and dread rising up from her spark. She knew her own brother would have told her to leave such a thing alone if she had ever gotten close to one while he had cared for her. And she knew well her shipmates might just have laughed, had they realized she had given even a thought to hitting anything for sport or otherwise. The world was dangerous and violent, they all would have said, their worry and terror for her obvious on their panicked face-plates. And they would only have told her, pointedly and well meaning, to perhaps practice making noise so that one day if she ever needed, she could yell just loud enough to scream for their help. But that was all just weakness, on a world known for violence and brutality. And weakness and her own helplessness had made her a target more than once already.
Firestorm stood just a moment more, staring ahead and seeing almost nothing at all, through a strange fast mounting rage that was rising through her body what what seemed to her like nowhere at all. And she realized in that very second just how much she hated her own weak helplessness, on a world only still growing used to letting the broken and the damaged survive at all.
"To the pit with all of you!" she yelled to an endless number of bots who would and could never hear her say it. Her hand, formed into a good fist before she knew she'd even done it, struck the punching bag in front of her just as hard as she could hit it. And instantly, in rage fuelled by Primus still only knew what exactly, she hit it again twice more.
"I'm not helpless! I'm not weak and stupid and insignificant. I'm not some tragedy... some poor broken youngling who's better off dead!" She hit the bag again countless times before she finally moved to kick the thing and just barely succeeded, stumbling backwards horribly, close to falling back onto the landing mats beneath her. But that near slip only served to make her even angrier, as she imagined the countless bots who might just have either chuckled with laughter at her awkwardness, or warned her then to stop just as though one small fall could have truly broken her for good. Through her frustration she found her focus. And kicking forward again, her foot connected well with the bag this time, causing a perfect and resounding little 'thud' to echo through the nearly empty gym.
"I am not your pleasure bot!" she screamed then, her anger now finding its focus on the pair she'd met in the the sweet shop and again in the elevator. "I'm good for more than that. Anybot is. And Soundwave is not merciless, you ignorant slaggers. You don't understand! No one understands much of anything!"
"The bots you loved," Soundwave said slowly, musing out loud as he walked closer to her, watching as she quickly became too tired to keep on going and simply stopped moving again. "Those bots that loved you... They were well meaning in their words and their actions. I understand that entirely. But to convince you to settle for weakness in yourself... to teach you to rely on them instead of on you... Firestorm, that was a great disservice."
"I..." Firestorm turned around. And for a moment she just stared up at Soundwave unsure what she could say in reply to that. She remembered how she'd talked back to Ratchet, still recently. How she'd walked into his office, frustrated and offended enough to not even bother with waiting to be invited back inside. That was so unlike her. And she understood now, just how close she'd been for a while already, to breaking.
"I... think you're right," she said, feeling her relief and managing a hint of a smile, when Soundwave instantly pulled her against him.
The gym doors slid open before either one of them could say anything more. And the pair let go of each other slowly, as Bulkhead crossed the training gym with Switchgear right behind him. Her small feet ran, short legs trying their hardest just to keep up with his long fast steps across the mats.
"Bad timing?" the big green bot questioned, kind of joking but serious too, just judging by the tone of his voice. His optics watched the pair for a second more though. And a look of concern appeared on his face-plate.
"It is... fine," Soundwave said calmly. And Firestorm just nodded her head smiling again.
"Hello," Switchgear said, politely greeting both of them, because she was nothing if not friendly and polite.
"Hi, Switch," Firestorm answered her, grinning as she did. And this time it was Soundwave's turn to simply nod his own agreement.
"Down for a training match?" Bulkhead asked in Soundwave's direction.
And Soundwave, his focus on Firestorm then, and on teaching her just as much as he could for her to feel safe again, was about to shake his head and wave away the invitation. But then he paused, and thought for a second, wondering if perhaps she could learn something truly useful by watching too skilled bots in their own training. So instead he nodded slightly, and with gesture of assent, he stepped toward Bulk' with fast and deliberate steps.
Sitting down moments later on the floor close to the wall, at the edge of the training mats with the youngling close beside her, Firestorm heard the child laugh loudly.
"I love Bulk' to bits," the youngling said, still laughing, watching the two much larger and well trained bots both trying their best to put the other onto the floor. "But... my bet's on Soundwave."
Both bots who sat observing, cringed just a little, frowning as Soundwave sure enough managed six hard and rapid fire hits in a row before dropping Bulkhead to the mats, by tripping him up with an outstretched foot.
"You look..." Firestorm began to say to the little bot beside her. But looking at her carefully, her optics on the child's now completed and reattached right arm, she wasn't sure at all how to finish what it was she'd started to say. She feared that even a child could certainly be offended if something said, was said wrongly enough. And Switchgear was clearly just a bit older then everyone had guessed when she first came to the attention of everyone on base... more then just a little old enough to know well how to take offence.
"Better?" Switchgear guessed easily, laughing a little as she held out her new arm. And she turned a little to her left, while still seated on the floor, obviously showing off a little of her panelling too. "A completed Cybertronian, and fully functional?"
"All of that, yes," Firestorm answered back, laughing with her now
"So, how are... things?" she asked, still hesitantly, after they'd sat silently for a moment or two just observing the training match that Soundwave was still so obviously winning.
She had been so busy, she understood then, just being scared of the world when it came to herself She'd come to fear danger and the pain that would undoubtedly cause her. And she'd come, however strange the idea seemed to her of any bot, to almost fear challenge. But this small child beside her, she remembered at once and to her sudden dismay, had faced down just as much as she had. And somehow she still smiled. Firestorm, just watching for a moment as the youngling, still smiling brightly, cheered on Bulkhead to get himself up from the floor. And in that second she decided she felt bad for feeling sorry for herself.
"Define 'things'...," Switchgear said, her tone joking. But that was still enough to make it clear that it was only the hesitation around her and the subject of situation that made her uneasy.
"Does that new arm feel okay?" Firestorm asked then, admittedly curious, because she had never faced a need for parts replacement.
"Fine," Switch told her, calmly. And clearly she was perfectly okay with answering, where the world would generally have avoided making her try. She flexed and unflexed her right hand fingers, before bending and unbending the elbow and turning her wrist a little. "The first day was... painful I guess. And Ratchet and Knockout are both so tough with rehab work. But I'm good now." She giggled again, a tiny youngling giggle, before she grinned, explaining. "Knockout made me a deal on day two... he'd try walking the whole corridor from one end of the ward to the other with that walking frame he's got if I could pick up fifteen small bolts with my new hand and drop them into a bin. I did my bit easily, but him... not quite. Ratchet said that's where it pays to be as young as me. I can relearn fast!"
"I'm home now," she added, a good moment and one more hard fall from Bulkhead later. "In my new home I mean... with Bulk'."
"You look... happy," Firestorm said, deciding it was okay to keep on talking, because of course the youngling was, and she was smiling as she did.
"Yep," Switchgear said. And she bounced a little in her place on the lightly padded floor, just off the edge of the training mats. "Bulkhead... he took me with him yesterday to his new construction site. He taught he how use a wrench, and he let me screw in light switch covers. He's been helping me learn to read code because I'm just not as good at it as I know I should be by now. We've been to the playground and he swung on the swings with me too! Yesterday... I started school."
"Switch, that's wonderful," answered Firestorm in reply at once. And she smiled brighter then, letting her usual grin spread over her face-plate, at the very idea that this child might well have a great life after all, despite the unfortunate start she'd clearly gotten.
But then - she thought intently and still smiling – wasn't that what New Cybertron was for? Chances for those born without them. Hope for the once hopeless. And a world where no one would be left behind again... That was, it seemed to her, certainly what the new council dreamed of for their world.
"I'm registered now," Switch said, still excited as ever, still bouncing a little on the floor. "I officially exist! And my name is formally Switchgear on the record!"
Firestorm just smiled at her, cheering with her as Bulkhead got up yet again from the mats, and this time succeeded in knocking Soundwave to the floor with a fast shove against his front panelling with both of his hands.
"Switchgear, may I ask you a question?" Firestorm asked, somewhat cautiously, after she'd thought about it for a moment.
"Sure ya can," the youngling said, without any hesitation at all. And she looked then in Firestorm's direction, obviously curious as to what might have been so important as to make her suddenly so careful in her words.
"What happened on that night of that explosion in Scrapheap's shop?" Firestorm understood at once that she had taken a risk by asking her that.
The Autobots and of course the police-bots, all wanted to know for obvious reasons. And she'd overheard the Autobot team more than once all making their best guesses surrounding the circumstances of that accident. But no one it seemed, had ever really thought to take a chance on simply asking Switch – a youngling who was clearly old enough to give them a detailed and useful answer. No one wanted to upset her. Firestorm understood that of course. She of course didn't want to either. But she had been a damaged youngling herself. And she was sure from her own experience that it wasn't always half as terrifying, at least after the fact, as many feared when one was so little.
"Scrapheap was passed out on the sofa," the youngling bot started to explain. She appeared to think for a moment, recalling the details in order. And of course she did look at least a little bit upset as she considered. Still she was far from panicked, and clearly willing to explain, or at least to try to. "He'd been drinking all day, and yelling and screaming... throwing stuff at me. When he finally just passed out drunk I was happy, because at least then he'd leave me along for a while. But then I got bored because I was all alone. I decided ta try cleaning the house 'cause he was yelling earlier over the commlink about some mess his friends had made downstairs"
"He keeps his chemical stuff down there," the youngling continued on, confirming an already well discovered fact. And right away she went on explaining more. "I dunno what he does with it all. I asked him to teach me once and he threw an energon container at me... but I know he said to never touch anything. So I didn't. I just cleaned up the desk and the work table. I didn't know there was a burner turned on. I guess someone forgot to turn it off. I didn't know how hot that was, or that the cleaning rag would catch on fire when I wiped it down. But the rag was burning then, so I threw the rag onto the floor. I didn't know something spilled all over the place was going to explode when I threw that burning rag..."
Bulkhead and Soundwave had stopped their training match somewhere into the youngling's recounting of events. And both stood, listening carefully and both clearly saddened by it all. Bulkhead stepped closer, his expression so obviously concerned. And Firestorm was just about to tell the youngling they had all heard everything anyone could possibly need to know. But the little bot just spoke up again, speaking when it looked like she may not want to say anything more.
"I know I should have rolled on the floor," she said slowly. "I think I did at first. But then I guess I musta panicked 'cause I ended up outside. And I guess I just kept running for a while toward those housing buildings. I musta fallen down, 'cause I remember I just couldn't keep going. But I don't remember all that very well."
"I didn't know you remembered so much about all that, Switch," said Bulkhead. And he kneeled down on the floor in front of her at once, lifting her carefully into his lap, with sadness in his optics.
"You never asked me, Bulk," the youngling answered, instantly confirming Firestorm's guess easily And the look in her little bright blue optics, and the little smile on her face-plate, made it clear that she was still okay. "I would have explained it all, just as much as I could have... but no one ever asked me to before."
########
"Soundwave?" Firestorm asked, hesitant again as the pair strolled at a slow pace down the walkway, alongside the city's 'main street.'
"Yes?" Soundwave replied. They stopped together on a corner, watching as a large group of bots roared by on the road in their vehicle modes, a few of them revving engines and spinning up metal dust with their tires clearly on purpose. Firestorm glared a second, shaking her head hard, as fine aluminum fibres hit them both in a deliberate spray, courtesy of some white and green bot behind the pack. But Soundwave just ignored him, better, as always at simply ignoring such ridiculous and inconsiderate behaviour.
"Am I really doing the right thing?" Firestorm questioned, crossing the road when the flow of traffic stopped. "Wanting to become a flyer?"
Their walk across the street had brought them to the front of a still empty shop front – the one that would be hers just as soon as the registration on the place went through in perhaps only days. The small shop, purpose built containing paint spraying booths, and shelving and space for storage and a design table in the middle of the place, had large reflective window in the front. And Firestorm paused in front of the first window, staring for a moment at her own reflection in it.
She studied her own frame. And though she saw it every morning while washing up, she took the time for the first time in her life to really notice what she looked like. She could see the small pair of her rear wheels halfway hidden behind the knees of her bot mode when she turned to look for them. And somewhere closer to the top of her body, tucked between her shoulder panels, was a hint of her single front tire. Right across the front of her chest panel, she carried her radiator grill, and each of her lower arm's panels was clearly a car door, each lower leg was a shiny yellow rear fender. And tail fins fell behind each of her feet.
She would look so different carrying plane parts in the place of those of any ground based vehicle. And looking at herself, reflected in the window, she realized that when it somehow had never fully occurred to her to consider that before. She would have wings behind her upper frame. And somewhere there would be landing gear, and thrusters and spinning engine turbines. And if only she'd had any living family left, she knew she'd look so little like any of them then.
"I can't tell you that," Soundwave said. He stopped beside her. And though his face-plate was once again hidden entirely, it was so easy to imagine he probably smiled then for the few short moments he could manage to do so. "I can't tell you what's truly right or wrong for you, and I will never try to tell you. I think..." he paused then, obviously considering exactly what he was trying to say, before he finally spoke again. I think you need more trust in yourself to know who you are and what you want to be."
"I'll really be a flying bot very soon," Firestorm replied, trying hard to let herself truly trust, just as Soundwave always said she should. And as she spoke to him, her gaze moved involuntarily toward the sky, while her hands reached out for his. A smile spread across her face-plate. "That's who I really am... exactly what I know I always should have been."
"Fast flying bot, and... paint shop owner," Soundwave said back. The pride was all too clear in his voice as he gestured toward the shop they stood in front of, laughing just a little with his obvious happiness.
"I knew you'd do it one day," he added quickly, his hand still pointing to the store front while his other one held tightly to hers. "Shinning paint and bold designs will be the latest thing in this new city."
"I only hope bots trust the spraying machines," Firestorm said, slightly worried when she really thought about it. Speedbreaker had built each machine in the paint and graphics stations, and so they were of course a brand new design for a brand new idea. And Speedy was a still unknown engineer.
"The only way you will ever know for sure is to try,"
"Soundwave?"
"Firestorm..."
The pair laughed together for a second at the silliness of that ongoing little pointless game of theirs, before Firestorm smiled brighter, her optics looking for his somewhere behind his face-shield.
"Thank you for being the first bot to really say I could be someone on my own," she said.
"And I said not a thing that was not true," Soundwave said right back. And Firestorm knew at once he had to have been smiling again. But he fell silent again so sudden it seemed strange, even for him. And for a moment he stood strangely still, on the walkway.
"Soundwave?" Firestorm questioned, concerned. And she watched a second, as he appeared to snap himself quickly out of whatever intent thoughts he'd been absorbed in.
"Perhaps... we should move," he said. "The housing commission would surely see the reasoning behind us requesting a reassignment to a new apartment, after..."
He didn't finish speaking his thought out loud. But Firestorm understood at once. Of course he'd think of moving, consider that her attackers – or one of them at least – was clearly their neighbour. She thought of it a lot herself, in the past days spent sitting by the window. She'd been sure she'd ask him to let them reapply. But now, to her own surprise she just shook her head instead.
"Those bots are in jail now," she said, determined, serious. "It's... like you said. They are going to be locked away for a very long time. Soundwave, we can't let them win... we can't give up our home because they exist on the same world we do."
"Are you... certain?" Soundwave's concern was obvious as ever. But Firestorm just stared at him before she shook her head again, firmly.
"It's our home," she said, considering a second. "What will we do? Run every time someone tries to knock us down? We'd be running forever..."
She watched Soundwave nod a little, clearly understanding exact what she meant to say. And she just smiled back, swinging their hands between them a little.
"Hey, Soundwave?" she asked slowly.
"Yes?"
"Can we fly again? Can we go somewhere out of the city and just sit talking for a while?"
"Of course we can do that," Soundwave said. And he had picked her up gently in his cables, before he'd even finished speaking.
########
"You are... quiet again," Soundwave said. He looked down at Firestorm who half way to lay on the ground in front of him, her head resting on his knees. "You are, alright?"
He'd landed with her on the far off bank of the Boiling River, on a part of the land just high enough that the heat from the river warmed their metal nicely without ever being dangerous. The ground shown violet here, streaked lightly with thin bands or red wherever small lines of rusted iron ran across huge stones of amethyst. Far up the bank there were the ruins of some long abandoned outpost, once controlled by Decepticon forces. And there was a bridge, which once ran the full width of the river and high above it. But that was crumbled now, leaving only the wreckage of the support towers reaching high up into the air on either side of the streaming, rolling watery oil, with a few broken cables swinging around a little in the blowing breeze.
"I'm alright," Firestorm answered back slowly. But still she spoke with confidence, and sat up straight to look around her again.
"This place doesn't make you nervous, does it?" Soundwave asked, suddenly concerned, as he looked around himself, guessing for the first time at just how such wreckage it may have looked to a young refugee. But Firestorm just shook her head, and even smiled just a little.
"I think it's kind of pretty in a way," she said. Her optics moved toward the rusting tower on their side of the river And she appeared to study it intently for a moment, before she added slowly, "I.. I can almost imagine what that bridge much have looked like in it's day."
"There are surely some still existing photo-files somewhere," Soundwave answered, thinking.
"Do you think the world will ever be what it once was again?" Firestorm wondered out loud.
"Someday," Soundwave replied, assuring her where he could only hope his was right. "It will take centuries... but, someday..."
"I can't wait to see what our world will become one day..."
"Firestorm?"
"Hmm...?
"May I ask you a question?"
"Of course you can."
The mini-bot sat up much straighter then. And when she turned around to face him, still seated on the ground, Soundwave held her hands in his and smiled.
"Today in the training gym..." he said, unsure of exactly how to explain his own thoughts out loud once he'd committed to doing just that. "I... did not mean for you to become so angry. I only meant to show you how to feel safer..."
"And you want to know what happened?" Firestorm guessed calmly. But suddenly she looked so unmistakably sad again before she lowered her head down to rest on Soundwave's armour.
"Yes..."
"I don't... I don't exactly know really. I just go so mad at no one and everyone all at once. It was those two that beat me up of course... but so much more than just them, too..."
"Your poor spark has been hurt for a while..." Soundwave said, realizing. And he really understood only then, that it really had been a good amount of time that she'd been so defeated. And he'd never seen hint of it. But slowly he saw her nod her head a little, while it still rested against him. And he just hugged her then.
"You never said a word about it," he said. "You surely know I would have listened if you'd only tried to talk to me."
"I... I know you would have," Firestorm replied. She sounded so clearly uncertain now, regretful and almost silly. And she looked up at him again, with serious optics. "But... you have so much to live with and deal with already. You still have nightmares almost every night... I don't think you always know it in the morning, but I do. And... I see your other struggles so clearly. Your fear of medics... the loss of your carrier... the guilt from the war..."
"Firestorm," Soundwave said firmly. He pulled her gently against his frame again. He took a moment to let Laserbeak free when her silent request for her freedom from his docking mount, echoed urgently through his awareness. And he watched the bird a second as she flew in wide happy circles high above the river. Slowly he finished his thought, or at least he tried his best to. "Never think for even a second that my own pain and struggles mean more than yours... that mine are greater, or that it all makes me unable to help you. I... want to help. I want to listen... to try my best, just like you do for me."
His thoughts wandered for a moment to the Autobots – all they had done for one another and the rest of the population with so little regard for their own misfortunes. Ratchet, who he knew had been a battle field medic for so long he'd surely seen things no bot could ever unsee, and still devoted his days to repairing anybot who needed repairing, because it was his spark's true calling. Or Knockout, new to the Autobot forces – a fellow defector himself, doing his very best to help the confused and the broken despite severe disability and endless nightmares of his own. Then there were Bumblebee and Smokescreen, younger Autobots, who loved and served their cause, working for some great future for the new generation, despite barely having had true youngling-hoods themselves. If they could all achieve so much, while so much stood against them, Soundwave began to understand he truly could as well.
"May I ask you a question, now?" Firestorm asked, after another long moment of both bots just looking out happily over the landscape. She moved again, laying on the smooth ground with he head resting on his knees, and a smile on her face-plate. Soundwave nodded, smiling back.
"Why do you love me of any bot on Cybertron," the mini-bot asked him slowly. And her tone was entirely serious, as she added instantly. "So many bots would surely dream of the love of a bot like you. You could surely have your choice..."
Soundwave might have laughed then, if only her expression had not been so entirely serious. So, unsure what exactly to say or do, he just sat blinking a little and floored. The question, it seemed to him entirely, was one that he may well have asked her one day, but for her to question the very same of him...
"There is no other hope of love for me," Soundwave answered, his mind made up that he had best try to say something, because she was just staring up at him, curious and expectant.
"So you've said before," Firestorm replied. But she shook her head, still in his lap, and continued on intently. "I just don't believe it's true. So many bots on the planet today... they hope for someone strong and smart, and... patient. someone who can listen, protect them... and tell them everyday that they are the centre of his world..." She looked up at him a second, with her optics almost sad, and added, her voice completely serious, "Some days I fear more than anything that one day soon you'll leave because you found someone so much better."
"There is no one better," Soundwave answered, still floored entirely by exactly what he was hearing. How, he wondered to himself silently, could anyone expect he might leave the bot who had taught him what it meant to love?
He hoped she would speak to him again in answer. But she didn't, instead just laying where seh was on the ground, her head on his knees, just smiling with a look that said she believed him.
"What happened to your creators?" Soundwave asked suddenly, a good moment later... changing the subject because he was curious. After he had asked the question though, he regretted it in under a second, because her face-plate fell a little. She sat up again on the ground, turning to look up at him, blinking, her optics dimming a little. And finally she just slowly shook her head.
"I... I don't think you really want to know that..." she said. And she looked down at the ground.
"Of course I do," said Soundwave, determined now. "Unless you simply don't wish to talk about it."
"They were..." Firestorm began to say, still looking at the ground. "They were... off-lined by Decepticons." She looked up again at Soundwave. But her optics never quite met his, before she slowly looked down again. "I was too young then to know a thing about it all, but my brother once told me everything. My carrier's main duty was always to explore planet surfaces for any possibility of habitation or salvage of material... part of a team of refugees that did this work. One day my creator decided he would go along when the team found such a world. No one knew it yet but those 'cons had found the world at the same time our ship had, and they were already on their way."
"They fought, of course," she added, sounding sadder by the second as she went on speaking. "Because both teams wanted the world and whatever might have been on it to use. My carriers' crew surely tried too. But they were only refugees, and out numbered... eleven neutrals died that day in a war most didn't even believe in."
Soundwave listened to her just as carefully as he could. But his tank flipped hard, and his head felt like it was spinning well before she'd finished explaining. His spark dropped hard with his sudden shame and rage and horror. His vision quickly clouded, and he understood only long seconds after the fact that heavy coolant tears, covering his optics before they fell, were to blame for that.
"Firestorm," he said, well aware of the horrible shaking of his voice just as soon as he tried speaking. "I am sorry..."
"Well, it was hardly your fault," Firestorm answered, her tone strangely calm and understanding, as she smiled assurance, her optics finally meeting his.
"My people... the faction of my loyalties... your own family off-line..." Soundwave said, trying hard just to explain himself, while he fought back further coolant tears but couldn't. ""How can... you not hate me...?"
"The 'cons that killed my creators... Soundwave, those were a shipload of sparkless scavengers. The story's always gone that they were likely outcasts from the faction... surviving on the scraps left behind throughout the universe. How can I blame you for something when you weren't even there?"
"I am still to blame by... affiliation..."
"You weren't a Decepticon anymore by the time I first met you," Firestorm said. And the tone of her voice and the look on her face-plate said that she meant it all entirely. She held his hands in hers again, and smiled almost sadly. "At least you weren't to me. And it doesn't matter what just a few bots of any faction do or don't do. Everyone should be judged for themselves... isn't that what Auotbots believe?"
########
Soundwave was anxious as he stood in the hall, his hand poised to knock on the door of the police captain's 'downtown' office. It was only some great urging from Laserbeak, riding happily enough on his right shoulder, that made him finally knock lightly on the door. And he knocked again, just a bit harder, when after a good few minutes there was no answer at all.
The door slid open then, without anyone inside even bothering to first inquire as to who it was outside. And Ultra Magnus – who clearly had simply not heard the far too quiet knocking the first time, looked up from his seat behind a large but simple metal desk in front of a large window.
"Soundwave," the police bot said, clearly surprised but not negatively so, by his unexpected visitor. And he gestured at once to a padded and armed chair across the desk from his own. His face-plate showed a slight hint of a smile. "Please. Come in."
Soundwave took the offered chair, still nervously. And for a moment, he just stat, looking out that large window, at the view of the third floor office of the mostly empty side street, below him, that ran behind the main road through the city. A clean up crew of Autobots and refugees worked a ways from the road collecting bits and debris left over from what just a week or two before had been the rubble of one more war ruined building. Arcee worked among them, obviously chatting happily and laughing with some refugee while they stacked metal sheets in a pile beside the walkway. And her youngling, Cybershock was so clearly just as eager to help as any adult bot. Soundwave laughed a little, smiling slightly in amusement, as he watched the small femmling – clearly an exceptional confidant climber for a child – as she clambered easily up and down a mostly stable stack of metal bricks and framework bits, grabbing anything small enough for her to lift, and tossing it down the ground below her.
Soundwave's optics went then to the stack of datapads that sat on the desk. And it was easy to assume that most were still waiting to be read and filed away. And two more pads were at fact open, both of them at once, on the surface of the desk.
"I... hope I haven't come at an... inconvenient time," Soundwave stated. But the police captain only shook his head a little.
"There hasn't been a time since I landed back on Cybertron, that I haven't been swamped with more work than any bot could ever got done," he said, chuckling a little and looking down at the two open pads. "And in any case, a short visit is always a wonderful excuse to take a short break."
The police-bot yanked open a drawer on his own side of the desk, and pulled out a small package, which he opened to reveal snacks made from pulverized metal, ground to fine power, before it was compressed again into solid little flat sweets. He took one for himself, and offered them to Soundwave, who reached for one himself slowly after some hesitation.
"Thank you again for your fast action in recusing Firestorm from her... situation... in the elevator," he said, unsure exactly how one should even really speak of such a matter in polite society. And the police-bot nodded just a little, munching slowly on a bit from the treat he held close to his mouth.
"All part of the job," he said, his tone one of obvious assurance. "It's just like I said that day it all happened. I'm glad of my timing... if I hadn't somehow left my needed notes inside my apartment and gone home to get them..." He paused again for just a second, before speaking again. "She is doing much better now, according to her file..."
"Affirmitive..." Soundwave answered, nodding before he realized just how strange that sounded to most bots in day to day discussions. He removed his face-plate covering, sure it was quite alright to do so, and finally had a small taste of the decent sized treat in his hand. He offered some of it to Laserbeak too of course, allowing her to grab a bit he'd broken off for her in her beak – much to the laughing amusement of the police-bot. And slowly he shook his head a little, before he muttered, "yes. She is much better. Thank you."
"Glad as anything to hear that. I stand by my previous statement when it comes to Firestorm... she's a one of a kind sort of bot, and certainly something truly special."
"I have been teaching her to fight. She's far from the sort to be fighting with anyone. But she needs to be safe... to protect herself here."
"A little skill with self defence is certainly never a bad thing," Ultra Mugnus mused, nodding his approval. He leaned across the desk, reaching absently for one of his datapads, which he closed and shoved into a stack of them on the shelf behind him.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he continued quickly.
"I..." Soundwave began to answer, far too nervously and he knew it. "I have done some good thinking... about your offer of a position on the patrol..."
"And?" Ultra Magnus was clearly amused again.
"I want to accept," Soundwave said, just as quickly as he could manage to. "...If the offer is still open that is..."
He saw Ultra Magnus nod his head at once in reply. And clearly he was more than pleased.
########
"Firestorm." Ratchet demanded firmly. And he tapped the back of head lightly with a fingertip. "Cybertron to Firestorm."
The mini-bot jumped a little, when she felt the light and somewhat humorous tapping. And hearing Ratchet calling her realized he'd clearly been doing so for at least a good moment. She shook her head just a little, shaking off her haze of distracted thoughts, and made herself look at him again as she turned to face him.
"I'm sorry, Ratchet," she mumbled, shaking her head again.
"You need to pay attention!" the old medic half snapped back at her with a hint of a smile on his face-plate. "I don't need to tell you twice that this is important."
Firestorm just nodded then right back at him, smiling a wiry and anxious smile. And she glanced at the closed door in front of where they stood – a door she'd barely noticed before at the back of Ratchet's workshop. He'd yanked a worktable out from in front of it just to get to the door, and she knew why it had gone unnoticed, mostly hidden behind that table stacked with scrap metal parts.
"Are you feeling okay," the old bot questioned, clearly in medic mode again just judging by his tone. And again, Firestorm just nodded with a smile on her face-plate.
"The new programming is still a bit strange," she admitted slowly, considering. She'd never before been so innately aware of the direction she was facing in reference to the planet's distant poles And suddenly the fact that her body was at present zero metres from the level of the floor, when standing on her feet, mattered to her navigation systems. "I... understand what you really meant now when you said it's not so easy..." she smiled, nervously again.
"The world does look just a little different from the perspective of a flyer," Ratchet said. But his tone was confidant and he smiled wider, resting a hand on her shoulder panel and reaching out to slide open the door. "It may just start to make more sense when you start to really learn to fly."
Firestorm just nodded her understanding then, nervous and excited, uncertain and curious all in one single moment. The old bot walked on into the room, and she followed him quickly, because though he hadn't invited her to follow, he hadn't told her not to either.
The room they'd walked into was a simple one - nearly empty with a couple of chairs by the wall seemingly for little reason at all, and a large computer set up on a worktable on the far end. The walls were painted white, and in the centre of the room, in the middle of four blue allows facing toward each other and seemingly painted on the floor, was some simple white circle on the grey slate tile.
"It's a little bit silly really," Ratchet remarked, absently and chuckling a little, as he wandered slowly toward the large computer screen and its interface controls. "During the time we served, stationed on Earth, we would choose our alt modes by scanning them directly. It was... always just the simplest and the quickest way. And of course we'd get a perfect match that way..." he chuckled again, watching the screen as the computer quickly began to power up. "We hid in plain sight. Yes, it was practical. Yes it was certainly entirely necessary as you can surely imagine, as the humans as a rule knew nothing of our presence at all on their planet and no one would look twice at some plain old vehicle parked on the curb... but we grew to like the culture... the world that we blended into. Some Earth machines made it into the system here..." he nodded toward the computer.
"The system?" Firestorm questioned him, curious. She crept closer, watching over his shoulder as he pressed a few buttons, typing in code. Her own processor still insisted somehow she needed to know she was zero meters from the ground and her optics now faced East-North-East.
"This system," Ratchet answered. He looked up just long enough to smile in her direction, before he went back to his fast typing. "This whole set up is basically a library of alt-modes. Many traditional Cybertronian, but now mixed in, as I said before, with those Earth forms I told you about. All sorted by size and category... two wheelers, four wheelers... a few three wheelers of course. Tanks, and shuttles, a train and some buses... and a whole lot of aircraft."
Firestorm remembered something much like that on board the ship she'd grown up and rode home on – a library of forms somewhere on the second level deck. But theirs was small, limited, and most bots had called it well out dated, and the technology almost unreliable. She had never even used it herself – instead choosing to scan her brother for a near copy of his alt mode, when she decided, well past an age she should have had one already, that she wanted to see if she could transform like any undamaged bots could do.
Windstorm had quite clearly been almost mildly annoyed at first. Firestorm giggled a little to herself just remembering that now. But she had idolized her brother in her youngling years. And he knew it well. He was proud of it, and proud of her. So of course in under an hour he was laughing just as hard as she was, while he simply taught her to drive in the corridor, just as straight as she could, as a smaller version of himself in their alt modes. He had painted small identification plates for them as well, just like that that many of the bots on board their ship seemed to like to wear for whatever reason on the fenders of their own alt modes. And in his careful code, their matched ID plates showed the Cybertronian symbols for 'wind' and 'fire' respectively. She still had his ID plate. It was something she'd been glad at the idea of keeping forever when he died. It stayed now safe, hidden and protected in a cupboard under the energon dispenser. And she'd always worn hers. She thought perhaps she could still wear it mounted somewhere on her flying form.
"Our computer here has found at least a few logical possibilities," Ratchet's voice said, again dragging her away from her thoughts. And she watched the screen again, to see that it was sure enough calling up detailed images, after he had typed in her size details.
"I'm surprised you came alone," the medic said absently, his tone clearly just one of causal conversation, as he rechecked everything he had just typed, before nodding a little to himself, obviously satisfied. "I'd assumed Soundwave would want to help you choose a flying mode..."
"I asked him to come," Firestorm said. She chuckled just a little, and shrugged, understanding. "He said no way. He wants to see the choice be all my own, without any influence from him..."
Firestorm watched the screen again, intently as more images loaded, letting something appeal to her most from the possible images. And after a good while of just staring, almost overwhelmed by it all – and her processor still just a little overwhelmed by new data she was not yet used to – she found herself drawn most to the form of an Earth vehicle... a small and light high performance pleasure craft labelled somewhere in the code that made up its notes, as both 'civilian use' and 'stunt craft.'
"Something about this almost screams bad idea, loud enough to make me pay attention to it," Ratchet grumbled when her choice had become obvious. But he shook his head and chuckled just a little, anyway.
"You remember exactly how to scan a form?" the old bot asked. And Firestorm nodded, confidant. She'd only ever done it once, much like many other bots. But still, it was an inborn and almost instinctive function.
She jumped back, startled and amazed all at once when Ratchet tapped another button, somehow causing a 3D projection of the imagine on the screen to appear clearly in the centre of the room. It's middle lined up closely with the middle of the circle on the floor. And she understood now, looking closely at the entire set up, that it was that that the image was projected from.
Firestorm scanned the 3D image, and stood still beside the old Autobot, waiting as her processor made and saved a a perfect copy of the vehicle mode. Then she stood still for a long moment more, well aware of her body's alt mode components shifting, changing, everything adapting quickly for flight where once it had been ready for the road.
It didn't hurt of course to shift her form like that. But it certainly was odd... and almost unexpected because she'd almost forgotten what it had been like to scan her very first alt mode close to a century before. And she stepped backwards quickly, bumping hard against the wall, off balance and startled, when the inner motion stopped and she could move again.
Stepping forward again, catching her balance, she turned, catching a glimpse of herself, reflected then in the now darkened large monitor of the computer system. The screen was too small, and too high up of course, to see herself completely. But she stared for a good long moment at the pair of wings attached to the back of her frame, before she turned away from the screen again to look down her own feet, at landing gear parts and the tiny landing wheels that had replaced the heavy treadded tires that had once been powered by her rear wheel drive train.
"From here I just can't help you," Ratchet told her, chuckling with a smile on his face-plate again. He rested a hand on her shoulder, as he lead her back out of the room. And then he shook his head just a little. "The only times I've ever strayed from firmly on the ground are the many times I've climbed a ladder... frankly even that almost makes me nervous. You were born for the skies... I realize that completely by now, although I still can't say I'll fully understand it myself." He gave another little chuckle, walking with her down a back hallway, that lead to a door out into the courtyard behind what was once the Autobot base.
"Soundwave can teach you everything from here," he continued, gesturing toward said bot, who sure enough waited for them sitting on a bench closest to the building's outside wall. And they watched as he stood up slowly, another of his increasingly common little smiles on his damaged face-plate.