Notes/
I'm back! I'm actually back, and intend to stay that way! Long story short, I managed to get myself locked out of my account not long after my last update. And only in the last month or so did I realize that thanks to my auto-saved log-in on my tablet I might actually have a chance of getting back in. It worked! And thank goodness too, because I never did forget this story, or cease to feel bad for never having finished a project that so many people were enjoying. I also rechecked old suggestions, and I still intend to use them. Is Transformers Prime still somewhat popular? Regardless, I'm going to finish this story! Please, forgive me. Please review...
Arcee awoke with a sudden start. And she looked around slowly, disoriented by the strange and unfamiliar place she found herself in. She was standing on her feet. And that only increased her confusion, as she immediately forced herself to step forward, her legs shaky, on smooth shining metal. The place was bright, she saw at once. Far brighter than the muted, dull interior of the hospital she'd been inside during the lost conscious moment she remembered.
Several questions entered her processor all at once than, as she tried to work out where she was and how she'd gotten there. But the most important seemed to be why. Her thoughts, for a reason she didn't fully understand yet, went immediately to her newspark's safety. And she forced herself to focus for a moment on its presence, spinning steadily but still so lightly, inside her spark chamber. She felt it then as she tried to pay attention. And though it was weak and barely present at all, she reminded herself that it always had been, as the tiny new life was still so very new.
"Hello?" Arcee called, her voice low and shaky, over what was clearly a vast outdoor landscape of metallic rainbows of reflected light and little else. She made her feet take a few more steps and heard the rush of oil and water nearby but out of sight. A waterfall? A river?
"Hello?" she repeated slowly when she received no answer. Carefully she took a few more steps. And her confidence grew quickly in that strange place.
"Is anybody here?" She knew the situation should make at least some sense now. And once her processor had reached that conclusion, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was right about that. And it instantly began to frustrate her.
A dream? She questioned the possibility for a moment. But dismissed it completely. Because for as strange as the situation was, it still held a sense of realness, impossible for any dream. And that suddenly unnerved her. She stood still then, feeling her frame begin to tremble just a little while she forced herself to stop it.
"Arcee," a voice answered, accompanied by heavy footsteps behind her. And she spun around fast, her spark filled with joy and doubt and dread all at once. "Welcome to a part of my realm of existence still unseen by you."
"Optimus...?" Arcee stammered, her feet now frozen in place as she stared into the optics of her old friend, torn between wanting to deny his presence and wanting to smile.
"What... am I doing here...?" she questioned slowly, still stammering a little. She remembered then that this was not the first time she'd been in such a situation. And slowly she added with hesitation, "Again..."
She took another slow step forward then, now toward her former commander. And for the first time she fully got a sense of her own frame... and the weight she held in her arms.
Cybershock! Her processor cried, registering only then that she held the youngling, unconscious in her arms. And through her confusion, she understand only then that she'd clearly been holding her like that the entire time she'd been in that place.
"No!" Arcee said then, her voice firm and committed. And every hint of her stammering uncertainty was gone entirely, as she held her child tight against her frame. "No fragging way!"
"Arcee..." Optimus said. And he walked closer to her cautiously. But Arcee was in no mood to simply stand and listen, flying instead into an immediate and despairing flurry of words.
"The well is so full of sparks already! Including youngling ones! I won't leave my child with you in this place so she can fall into the well with them, no matter what. Primus can't have her. Of course, he would love her. Everyone who's ever met her does! But I love her too. Cybershock is mine! And think of her creator. You can't think losing our youngling wouldn't absolutely break him too!"
"Arcee..." Optimus' voice broke through her pleading after a good few moments. And Arcee realized only then that she had simply broken off into wordless sobbing tears at some point while he'd stood patiently repeating her name.
"I don't doubt for even a second that you would bargain with Primus himself for the life of that child, if it were to come to that, Arcee," he said – oddly smiling as he did so." Or..." he paused again, the smile never once leaving his faceplate. "Or of the spark you now carry for that matter. But I give you my word, it will not come to that."
"I..." Arcee began to answer before she realized she was unsure what she wanted to say then in the first place. She wondered if she should be sorry for her emotional ranting, but she knew at once he would understand. She knew she should thank him, but that seemed almost silly in that odd and impossible place... She stared again at the youngling in her arms – just as unconscious in some now far-away reality as she was in this new one. The youngling, she recalled at once - fighting back another wave of misdirected frustration – never had woken up again, since an emergency operation the past night to fix a slow leak found within her cooling system.
"Arcee," Optimus' voice was steady as ever as a rested a huge and heavy hand on her shoulder panel, which coaxed her into looking up at him again. "I think you know full well I would not make that kind of promise if I was not certain."
"Mama?" Cybershock questioned, suddenly awake now. Her voice was quiet and unsure as she looked around slowly, still held tightly in her carrier's arms. Arcee instinctively held her even closer to her frame, expecting the young bot to panic any second at finding herself in that strange new, and otherworldly realm. But the youngling looked around her intently, and instantly smiled in her clear curiosity, reminding her carrier again in that wordless reaction just how bold and all but unshakable the little one was.
The youngling wiggled a little in her carrier's arms for a moment, clearly wanting to free herself from a far-too-tight hold. And Arcee, doubtful for a second, looked her over intently. When she found her completely undamaged – her paint shining and polished, and her body truly perfect - she hesitantly dared to set the youngling bot down on her feet, holding her for a few long moments by her arms gently, fearing that in this strange place, Cybershock would stumble.
"How'd you like to meet another old friend of mine?" Arcee asked the youngling. And she gestured with a hand toward the large red and blue bot that had stood, calm and patient, watching the two interact without another word.
"I know who that is, Mama," Cybershock answered, clearly having needed barely a second to recognize him. And she grinned, turning away from her carrier at once, to address the far larger bot now in front of her.
"You're Optimus Prime!" she said, with youngling excitement. And she balanced on the tips of her feet, as if to make herself just a little taller, trying to impress him somehow by looking just a little less tiny. "Last of the Primes... the leader that put an end to the endless war for Cybertron. We..." the little bot paused a moment in the middle of her otherwise fast-paced excited speech to consider for a second what to say next. And jumping right back into her flurry of words, she said. "We've been studying your life in school for years already! They say you were the leader to unite the people, to rebuild a city from little more than ruins! I think you're probably the most inspirational figure in history now!"
"I'm not sure it's been nearly long enough for me to have become a true historical figure, Cybershock," Optimus replied, laughing a little as he did. He smiled then, a look of pride rarely seen - ever - appearing on his faceplate. "Although..." he mused slowly still smiling. "I suppose when a world as a whole united people, accomplishes in decades what might well have taken centuries... I can see where your point of view makes perfect sense."
"Cybershock, take a walk with me," he said, after they'd both just stood a moment, quietly. Arcee watched him offer his huge hand to the youngling. And she watched her offer her own far smaller one, to hold two fingertips gently with her entire hand, reaching up just as high as she possibly could to do so.
"All those things you give me all the credit for...," Optimus continued as the youngling walked beside him, her small feet stumbling to keep up with his far longer stride, despite his obvious care to walk slowly. Arcee, walking along a few steps behind them, sure that she was meant to follow, watched her youngling looking up at the huge Autobot, clear interest in her optics. "Every bit of that credit belongs to every one of our people. Including you..." Arcee let herself laugh a little when her former commander tapped the little bot cheerfully on the top of her head.
"I... I'm a kid," Cybershock answered, barely pausing a second. They stopped by a wide-flowing river, which was clearly formed from liquid metal, but was somehow not radiating any of the great heat that would have been easily expected. "I don't really do much... I can't."
"Digging through the rumble before you could read code," Optimus said. He smiled again and brighter now. "That isn't nothing. You're helping to rebuild that city you spoke of."
"It's nothing really." Cybershock shrugged off the credit, with a youngling giggle as they began to walk again "I'm just good at climbing things. And I'm light enough to not upset the piles. Well... not usually anyway. I did upset one once the other day... I guess maybe I'm getting too big... It doesn't matter though, because we found an old box of data pads because of it. And... Ratchet thinks whatever's on them could be valuable..."
Walking slowly down the corridor of the city hospital, Soundwave slipped, simply out of habit, into the shadows while he followed the wall. He reminded himself again to avoid such near-slinking behavior – reminded himself that it made most bots uncomfortable, and made him look strangely suspicious, particularly to bots already so on edge and uneasy from recent events. And he reminded himself that three times in a row was already too many times to revert to the same troublesome habit in one afternoon. He shook his head, determined, and stepped quickly away from the doorway that had been nearly concealing him as he moved across it.
"Soundwave," a voice called out. And he looked around for a second to find the source of it, before he finally found Knockout, mostly concealed himself, in a doorway across the corridor. Clearly, Soundwave reflected quickly, he wasn't the only one to be slinking around in the halls that day – even if Knockout had likely not intended to have given the impression of doing so.
The greeting wasn't a particularly cheerful one. So few voices were anywhere close to cheerful since the still recent attack. But it wasn't quite the serious and uncertain one that had filled the city since then either.
"Good afternoon," Soundwave answered. He wasn't sure exactly what else it was he was supposed to say. So he finally settled on a simple nod of his head instead.
"How is that youngling of yours?" Knockout asked his tone clearly just curious. And Soundwave smiled then – a near instinctive thing, it seemed to him. And he could barely stop himself from doing it, even if he'd wanted to.
"He... he is good," he said, thinking for barely a second of his words. "He's amazing!"
"Stormwave certainly is a wonderful child," Knockout mused when Soundwave stopped speaking again abruptly. "According to every one of the staff I've talked to, he's rarely cried even once. And despite being as early as he was, he's perfect! He's been checked over by three medi-bots now including myself. And none of us can find a single thing to be even the slightest bit concerned about!"
"He is... coming home today," Soundwave said. And Knockout only nodded, grinning.
"Indeed. Ratchet signed off on his discharge orders this morning. Firestorm is certainly overjoyed to know for sure he'll be leaving when she does."
"It makes me so nervous," Soundwave muttered. And he resisted the urge to slick back into the shadows of the nearest doorway again. "The idea of taking Stormwave home... of caring for him on my own at any point. I... I can't quite shake the feeling I could drop him. Or... fill his washtub too full. Overfeed him. Or leave him in the marketplace..."
"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Knockout said, chuckling now under his intakes, while he shook his head, amused. "Cybershock has me, of all bots, for a creator. And she's lived all these years safe and healthy. I've never once dropped her, and if anyone was going to do such a thing it would have been me, given my former state. You can't overfeed a newborn. They'll just stop feeding. A washtub only holds so much water for a reason. And leaving him in the marketplace... come on. That's just silly!"
"How is Cybershock doing?" Soundwave asked, turning the subject from his own little family to that of his colleague abruptly, as he remembered still so recent events all over again.
"She'll... be alright, " Knockout said. And he smiled as he spoke, a look of relief on his faceplate making it clear the news was good. "She was wide awake this morning, and so much better already than I would have expected so soon. Wanted fuel, and drank a full container all on her own."
"That is... good," Soundwave answered, so strangely uncertain as he conversed over such a simple topic. He inwardly questioned himself, doubtful a moment before he realized just how rattled he truly still was by the last days.
"Perhaps you would like to pay her a visit," Knockout suggested. And Soundwave knew he must have looked doubtful and surprised because the medi-bot only laughed a little then nodding his head to confirm his own thoughts.
"She's never forgotten you once saved her life, you know," Knockout said seriously. And he smiled again, obviously grateful as ever, even with the passing years, for his daughter's life. "She's got so many visitors today now that she's up to it. Her friends have been by already of course... so have several of the masters class racers, just wanting to tell her they know who she is, and they know full well she's probably Cybertron's biggest racing fan. Still... she asked me once already if you're going to come by to say hello."
"I will be sure to find a few moments before I leave with my family," Soundwave answered at once. Because it was, he knew, the very least he could do for an injured child who'd done nothing to deserve her own misfortune. "First though, I have... business to attend to."
"I was attacked outside the hospital today," Knockout said, suddenly. And Soundwave, startled by the revelation, felt his optics widen a little before he gave an inquiring look.
"I fear the city has truly gone insane," the medi-bot explained. And he shook his head a little, as he spoke. Not that I can fully blame them. I mean... everyone is so upset. Still... to jump me from behind the second I stepped out the doors... That bot was little more than a youngling himself, and thank Primus he wasn't even armed. Ran off as soon as he realized he'd knocked me to the ground so easily. Still, I think you need to be careful... for obvious reasons."
Soundwave nodded his understanding slowly. And he shoved back his own frustration and concern over defectors so clearly about to become a target of the city's rage again, with the recent attack. He fought back true worry then, for Firestorm and even more so for their newborn son, at the thought of any growing unrest among the people. A perfect picture came to mind at once of his tiny youngling, who had inherited his red optics. And his worry only worsened so much then as he wondered how then, of any time, the people of the city would quickly judge a helpless baby. But still, through all of his racing and worrisome thoughts, he felt a tiny inward smile within himself at the thought of Firestorm unceremoniously sending a flying kick into the faceplate of any bot who dared to even look at their son the wrong way. He was glad as ever than that he'd taught her to fight as well as he had. Glad to know she'd practiced often, before carrying had made her unable to do so.
"Arcee hasn't heard a word about this," Knockout said, his tone more serious than ever then. "And if I get it my way she'll never find out. I wasn't hurt obviously. And she'd only be upset all over again... I've only mentioned it to you so you will know to be careful out there now, in the craziness."
Knockout was certainly right in his warning about anger and tension in the city that morning. Soundwave could see that at once as he made his way toward 'downtown.' Most bots knew his alt mode. And many glared daggers at him from their bot forms as he flew slowly overhead at low altitude. There were whispers among them to go along with the glares. And he could clearly make out more than a fair few vulgar curses, from bots pointing directly up at him with scowls on their faceplates.
And the city was in a certain state besides! Bots waking the sidewalks, their steps slow and optics downcast, shoulders hanging while others looked about them, so clearly nervous of anything that moved – any noise near them. Others it seemed were just so prone to arguments. And Soundwave took in several of such odd spats, caused mostly - from what he could understand out of quick overheard words – by somebot snapping at another here and there for little reason other than that they were all so on edge. So many more than usual had armed themselves – mostly with anything they could find just laying around. A bot stood with a broken fence post in his hands outside the sweet shop, probably just waiting for his younglings... three more walked in a tight group, iron bars in each of their hands.
Soundwave was cautious, even given his confidence in self-defense, as he approached the police department. And as soon as he'd landed and promptly transformed, he looked around him for anyone that might be lurking in the shadows. Seeing no one he sighed his relief, and hurried inside as the door slid open in front of him.
He keyed his access code into a second, inner door, quickly. And when that door slid open, he made his way past it, into a dimply lit and too narrow corridor behind, which he made his way down with deliberate steady steps. He stopped, halfway down the hall, at an energon dispenser in a tiny alcove in the wall, grabbed a container from a cupboard below it, and filled it up before he moved on again.
"I brought you your fuel," Soundwave said. And his voice was very deliberately near emotionless, as he reached Astrotrain's holding cell, at the far end of that narrow dark hall. He slid the energon under the bars of the door, though a gap intended for that purpose. And watched as it slid across the smooth floor of the cell.
"My own conscience tells me I shouldn't bother," he added, letting himself glare now at the bot who had once been a colleague. "That I, and anyone else on Cybertron, should leave you to slowly starve to death and waste away to scrap metal."
"We served the same cause once," Astrotrain said after he'd sat still on his narrow bench for just long enough to make Soundwave almost sure he wouldn't talk or move at all. He looked up, his optics returning the hate Soundwave held for him. "We shared the same values... the same vision for Cybertron..."
"Nearly a third of the city is calling for your execution," Soundwave muttered back, ignoring the ridiculous and twisted attempt at guilt, and deciding instead to get right to the point. "I don't exactly disagree with their opinion. Except that I have a seat on the high council. And they've made it known you are entitled to a fair trial."
"I was almost certain you would transfer your loyalty to me as the new Decepticon leader, and join up with me just as soon as I dropped that bomb at the edge of the city," Astrotain muttered. And even then, secured in a cell, his voice held a tone of confidence.
"I can see why you were banking on that outcome," Soundwave let himself admit, thoughtfully. He considered a moment, and added cautiously, "You weren't here to see how it all ended... or everything that happened next. But still, you got it all so wrong."
"I hadn't intended for that explosive device to hit the racetrack," Astrotrain said, his tone impossible to fully work out. "Working from memory, that should have been unused space outside the city limits. And I certainly didn't guess that the track would be occupied by younglings. I..." He paused then, looked around a moment, and then finished in a huff. "I'm not that much of a complete monster as to want to hurt the newest generation for no reason."
"All of those points will be taken into consideration during your trial," Soundwave answered. He forced his tone back to near-emotionless again, but dared to glare his distaste while he waved toward the container still on the floor behind the bars. "Drink your fuel."
"Lord Megatron should have killed you for the trader to the faction, that you've become," Astrotrain spat in reply. And Soundwave's optics followed him as he stood up from the bench still glaring and... smug. And every bit of the anger he'd forced back until then, rushed through him at once, causing him to step toward the bars in one long stride, just as Astrotrain rushed forward to pound on them – his intention clearly to taunt and harass the police-bot.
"Don't you dare talk to me about treachery," Soundwave growled, his hands grabbing Astrotrain's shoulder's before he could even think to stop himself, pulling him toward the cell bars, yanking him tight against them and refusing even then to let go of him. "It's common knowledge that you tired to overthrow the 'Con leadership just as much as Starscream did. To have done what you did, as an act of loyalty to the cause would have been bad enough. But you bombed a track full of younglings, and nearly killed one of them, all because you saw a chance to snap up the power you were always denied."
"How very self-righteous, you've become," Astrotrain taunted. And Soundwave pulled him harder up against the bars, now fully resisting every urge to break his neck.
"Not a single bot off lined" Astrotrain mumbled, his tone drifting fast towards pathetic, as he struggled, disparate yet entirely unable to free himself.
"So many could have," Soundwave snapped in return. And Astrotrain's head nearly bounced off the cell bars, as he yanked him still tighter against them, with growing force.
"Soundwave!" The voice from behind him, loud and serious, make him spin around fast, finally releasing his former colleague as he did. And Soundwave blinked once, forcing himself back to reason, as he saw Ultra Magnas shaking his head slowly, his own expression nearly blank.
"A word, if you please, Soundwave," the police commander said firmly. And Soundwave nodded with little hesitation – understanding without needing to be told, that it was not exactly a request.
"I... can't exactly say I blame you," Ultra Magnas said when the pair had stepped into the doorway of a nearby, empty cell. He shook his head a little, and glared in the direction of Astrotrain in his holding cell, now just out of earshot. "Believe me when I say it's been all I can do today just to resist the urge to kill that bot myself. I almost feel like I could have overlooked it if you had, and maybe even helped you hide the body..."
"Still..." he said after a moment of both just standing in silence. And he held up a hand to fully make his point. "Don't. We can't let ourselves fall to his level. And I know you know full well that as a police bot, you can't just go beating up a prisoner. No matter what he did... no matter how disgusting... we need to be better than that, Soundwave."
"I let my temper get the better of me again," Soundwave admitted. He shook his head forcefully for a moment, fighting back his own rage and the beginnings of a panic attack - he hadn't had one in a while now.
"Just.. do better from this second on," Ultra Magnas said. And his faceplate was just as serious as his tone for a second before he looked concerned. "You alright?"
Soundwave only nodded, mumbling thanks the best he could manage as he fought off a growing wave of terror at a thing he could not place.
"How about you work from home tomorrow... on some unrelated work?" The police commander offered. And Soundwave looked up, grateful and with interest.
"Should be straightforward enough," the commander continued. "Several assault reports, all of which came in this morning. The victims were 'con defectors in every one of the reports. One of them is a carrier now and was unfortunately beaten badly enough to be sent to the hospital, in front of his youngling. I say the place is going mad. The people are so angry.. and we both know how easily anger can become misplaced. I probably don't need to tell you to be careful, Soundwave."
"I will... be cautious," Soundwave replied, recalling the earlier warning from his old friend, and wondering if perhaps he should mention Knockout's attack as well, however minor it was. And his spark rate shot up at the sudden thought of bringing home Firestorm and Stormwave through the obvious madness the city had become.
He stepped closer to the bars of Astrotrain's cell again after his commander had left him. And he picked up the energon container, finding it now empty, and tossed it back toward the bars, before stepping back from the barred door with another shake of his head.
"Is it true...?" Astrotain mumbled suddenly, making Soundwave pause. "Starscream is offline?"
Soundwave only nodded, confused when Astrotrain's optics opened wider in disbelief before he looked down toward the floor.
"How'd that happen?" he asked. And his tone was almost a kind of concern.
Soundwave shook his head again, far more lightly now, his own confusion over his feelings threatening to throw him into a new wave of panic.
"That fragging bot that managed to survive nearly a thousand attempted murders... most of them by Megatron..." he muttered, considering his words. "Would you believe it if I told you he was he was simply terminally ill in the end?"
"He's better off gone," Astrotrain said. But his tone, in contrast to his words, was oddly compassionate for a bot now labeled a terrorist. "I never liked him exactly. He was impossible to work with and treated me in particular like scrap mostly. But then, he spent his life at war with himself, as much as with any real enemies."
Speedbreaker's shoulders tensed involuntarily as she rummaged quickly through a large bright display of energon flavor packets in the marketplace. She took a fast intake, forced the tension from her frame, and held up twenty assorted packets for the vendor to scan out before paying him quickly and turning around with her newborn in his stroller.
Kickstart, she reflected, recharging happily while she pushed him, was the only one of her usually well behaved younglings actually behaving that day. And she admitted then, if only to herself and silently, that she was quickly reaching her wit's end with the whole troop of them.
"Mama!" Tailfin wailed from behind her somewhere. And she turned quickly, to find her forth youngling standing next to a shelf of jelly making supplies, his faceplate full of frustration as he tried to grab from something out of reach well over his head. And something he had no reason at all to be reaching for at all. "Maaaaaa... maaaaaaa...!"
"No!" Speedbreaker said at once, well aware at once that her tone was far firmer with usual when addressing any of her children. She gently grabbed the little bot my his arm and walked him out of the market stall, while still pushing – and now struggling with – the stroller. "No. Absolutely not."
"Tailfin!" Sparkplug chimmed in. She as at her carrier's side in a second and grabbed her small brother's free arm harder than she should have. And she was shouting, despite her obvious intent to help "You could have pulled that whole display down!"
"Don't yell at him, Sparky," Hubcap snapped at once, suddenly faceplate to faceplate with his twin. And his voice full of his own uncharacterisc anger. "He's just a baby."
"Don't call me Sparky!" Sparkplug snapped right back. She stood up tall on the fronts of her feet, not backing down, despite being snapped at.
"Don't shout at a baby then, Sparky," Hubcap countered. And Sparkplug's faceplate turned to utter rage.
"Don't. Call. Me. Sparky." she growled at her brother.
"Why not, Sparky?" Hubcap taunted.
The young bot who usually took a hint far better and faster, was clearly not taking one then. And it was to Speedbreaker's shock and horror that Sparkplug wheeled around on both of her feet in under a second, to get behind her twin, before she decked him with a closed fist across the backs of his shoulders.
"Get fragged!" Hubcap bellowed – language so obviously far from acceptable from a bot so young – and uttered much to the audible gasps of horrified shock from passers-by in the marketplace. He turned quickly, and before Speedbreaker, shocked and horrified herself to manage to grab him. With a frustrated growl of his own, he planted a fist into his sister's midsection, causing her to sputter and step backward.
"You!" Speedy said. Her hand grabbed for Hubcap's arm and she held it firmly while he stood wiggling to free himself.
"And you!" she grabbed Sparkplug in the same manner with the other arm, and marched them forward a few paces before she realized should could neither push the stroller nor carry a now crying Tailfin, while she restrained her raging twins.
"Hotwire!" she called out over her shoulder, not meaning to snap, but knowing full well she had regardless. And she sighed with her own growing inner frustration when she realized that for the fourth time that market trip, her oldest youngling had simply wandered away distracted, and without a word about it.
"You... you get your tailpipe over here, at once," she said half raging out load, as she looked around the crowded marketplace for any hint of bright yellow paint. And she took another fast intake, trying, now almost uselessly, to calm down.
"Well... five is certainly a good deal to manage, dear," a voice chuckled kindly beside her. And Speedbreaker looked around quickly, surprised to meet the optics of a very elderly grey-painted bot, who took the handles of the stroller without a word about it, after she'd promptly lifted Tailfin from the floor and plopped him down standing balanced on the back of it.
"Thank you," Speedy managed, along with a small grateful smile, as she followed the elderly bot to the bench she was obviously being led to. And she sat down, just as grateful as before, when the helpful bot motioned her to with a wave of her hand.
"I had six myself," the old bot said. And she chuckled again, lifting Tailfin onto the bench beside his carrier, before sitting each of the twins down on each end of the same bench without a word about it and a look that told anyone clearly how she would not hear a word of protest from either.
"My great grand creations are grand creators now," the elderly bot continued. She laughed another cheerful laugh, and smiled at Tailfin, who had by now stopped his crying and smiled back. "Let me tell you, young one, I know a thing or two about younglings."
"I... I can't thank you enough for your help," Speedbreaker said, still finding her words, as she went on struggling to overcome her annoyance. She looked around at the younglings, before lowering her head a little, and mumbling in embarrassment, "They aren't usually like this."
"Of course, they aren't, dear," the old bot answered. And her tone said that she truly understood and meant it. She picked up Tailfin, clearly without a second thought. And sat down beside Speedy on the bench with the youngling on her lap, bouncing him playfully just a little.
"I do love the races," she explained. And she chuckled again. "I've got me a season pass and I haven't missed one yet... I'm certainly an adoring fan of that bondmate of yours." She grinned a quick grin before her face-plate turned completely serious in seconds.
"You were there the other day, when...," Speedbreaker said. And suddenly she was horrified by the thought. But the old bot only nodded, calm as ever.
"I wasn't hurt, my dear," she explained. "I like the upper rows... I like to be closer to the sound system. But I did certainly see the whole thing happen. Let me tell you it was horrifying. Those poor youngling racers... my spark nearly broke thinking surely at least one must have been offlined at first. But those little ones of yours, they all watched it happen too. And one was on the track! Surely they have a lot to process and so few tools to do so properly."
"I... guess I haven't realized just how bad..." Speedbreaker started to explain. "I'm trying, just as hard as I possibly can just get on with it now. I have younglings to fuel. A home to run. The world hasn't stopped, and I can't either..." But the elderly grey bot stopped her gently.
"Most of the city wishes the world might stop for a while, just so we can all just sit and think, be angry, be sad, and just wish that whole mess never happened," she said. She smiled with true and confidant assurance. She glanced around the market for a moment. And Speedbreaker, following her gaze, noticed only then for the first time, how quiet it was despite the crowds – how many bots trudged along, shopping for goods, as she was, purely because they needed them. She noticed how the laughter – what little there was here and there throughout the vendor stalls – was mostly forced and awkward. "I tend to think it might just be a good thing that the world can't stop... as much as I might like it just as well as anyone. Life keeps as all busy, and that keeps us sane."
"But my children..." Speedbreaker said. Her spark sunk as she watched Sparkplug, now kicking the back of one small foot against the leg of the bench hard enough to hurt herself in her own clear frustration. Hubcap, still seated at the other end, just glared at nothing. "They're just so... angry today."
"All you can do is listen to those little ones," the elderly bot said. "Give them sweets. Give them love, and all the time it takes. And tell them every day if you need to, that just because something went wrong, no matter how horrible it was, the world isn't falling down around them. Because they can't be sure it isn't otherwise."
"I... I still hear bots screaming every time I close my optics to recharge, Mama," Sparkplug said. Her voice was hesitant, and she moved slowly to stand up, before she walked closer to her carrier and sat down beside her. Immediately her little hands grabbed for her arm.
"I don't hear anything like that at all," Hubcap said. His tone wasn't judging now or arguing with anyone. He was simply explaining. And he moved closer too, and hugged his carrier's other arm. "I... I just see energon on the racetrack benches when I try to power down into recharge. I dream too. I... I dream that Hotwire was hurt... I dream that my creator was hurt..."
"I dream that Cybershock is offline," Hotwire said. He'd clearly come back sometime in the past few moments and stood standing with his family listening. Coolant pooled in his optics and he sat down on the marketplace floor, his head resting helplessly in his carrier's lap. "She was blown to pieces and no one ever found some of the parts..."
"I've had horrible dreams too," Speedbreaker said, after she'd considered for a moment, never having planned on ever saying a word about such a thing, but now deciding to if only so her children could see they certainly weren't alone in their despair.
The three oldest of her younglings all looked up at her, intently – three pairs of blue optics all sad and confused and afraid all at once. And the two smaller ones just stayed still – too young to understand much, but so clearly affected all the same. Speedbreaker debated for a second over sharing her own horrific dreams with her children – dreams in which her own five little bots were all dead, in spreading pools of energon, among the racetrack stands filled with the dead and the dying. But she didn't – some things were simple too horrible to share, even if they were just nightmares. So instead she said nothing and just hugged her children close against her body panels – all of them snuggled in tight in a clumsy pile of small bots and their carrier still seated on the marketplace bench.
"Ratchet," Arcee called out. And her voice - barely above a whisper in consideration for anyone that might have been resting in the medbay - was nevertheless urgent. She saw neither a single recharging patient nor the old medi-bot in the large room, though. And her optics went quickly to the closed door of his office, in the back corner.
"You in there?" she called out, daring to speak louder now. And her fist tapped lightly but fast on the door several times.
The near adult youngling, working as an orderly - and who had caught her attention somewhere far down the hall – had known very little when he caught her attention. But he'd said the old bot was 'dangerously unwell,' and that had caused her to react at once. She'd hoped, for at least the tenth time now as she stood tapping on the door, that maybe he'd been wrong, or at least greatly overreacting. But a loud inaudible mumble from behind the door made her shave her hands against the locked door at once in concern.
"Ratchet!" Arcee's voice was firm as she searched the nearly hidden panel beside the door, for a very well-hidden override control for the lock. "Can you open the door, please?"
"Leemee 'lone..." a voice mumbled in reply from inside. And Arcee, dismayed at the tone of his voice, managed to finally find the lock control partly due to her familiarity with the building, but mostly out of pure luck. "Da clinic iss closed..."
Arcee, ignoring his dismissal, forced the door open with a hard yank, which let it slide back on its track entirely. And she stepped into the office to find a truly horrific mess. Data pads littered the desk in a cluttered pile, along with several discarded and empty high-grade energon containers. Looking down she found a couple more of both on the floor, along with a busted music player, three data discs, and a dirty oil-soaked washrag. And among the mess of a medic's office sat the old medic, slumped over his desk, partway out of his chair, and his feet stretched out across the floor, nearly creating a tripping hazard, mostly unseen under the content of his tipped-over bandage cabinet.
"For Primus sake," Arcee snapped without a thought for her tone. And when a hint of regret surfaced, she only shoved it away and glared at him.
"Arcee..." Ratchet mumbled in what could only have been a mix of embarrassment and strange indifference, as he struggled to sit himself up straight.
"Whatever you're gonna say to explain yourself, don't bother," Arcee said, snapping again and not caring that she'd done so. "Just.. go and lay down somewhere while I go and explain to some naive poor kid that his employer – who he thought was seriously ill enough to need urgent help – is actually just near dead drunk on the job."
"Arcee.. I... I.." Ratchet mumbled. But Acree was barely listening to him, as she began to gather up the containers and pile them neatly at the edge of the desk.
"This isn't all from tonight," she said, disbelieving. She shook her head, as sudden rage came over her. And she fought back the urge to hurl a container at the furthest wall. Instead, she turned back to him again, still glaring. This is gotta have been days. Days spent drinking with fragging patients in your care!" Her rage built suddenly to become fury. And she gave in to her urge to throw the container. It shattered into tiny pieces as it crashed against the metal of the wall. "My youngling, who required life-saving treatment, was in your care!"
"Do ya really think I'd ever even think of drinking while I operated on a patient?" Ratchet grumbled. He staggered to his feet, kicking over the tipped cabinet and quickly falling over again back into his chair, shaking his head. "Least of all a critically injured youngling?"
"I... I don't know what to think" Arcee exclaimed. And she let herself drop into an empty chair in the corner of the office because that was better than looking for another thing to throw.
She hadn't cried once since the attack on the racetrack. She'd certainly wanted to so many times in the past days. And most of those times it had been be so close to a losing battle just to fight back tears as they fought to fall from her optics anyway. But still, she'd so stubbornly refused them every time. She couldn't cry in front of her mate, or at least she didn't want to. He'd cried enough for both of them, tears appearing in his optics out of the clear blue nowhere at any time or day or night. And though he didn't say a thing about it, and though it made no real sense, she understand he somehow found a hundred ways to blame himself for their youngling's near offlining. And she certainly couldn't cry in front of the youngling either. Because as much as she knew that her child – with a compassionate spark that would only have driven her to concern for her carrier, despite her own terrible state – would have understood and only cried with her. She knew the little bot had it all so much worse.
But she finally cried now, if only because she simply couldn't not do so this time. And sitting in her chair, head hidden in her hands, she let warm coolant tears pour from her optics – giving up on restraint because she was so tired of trying to fight them back. She stayed that way for a while, her face still well hidden and her frame shaking from the force of her sobbing cries. And for who only knew how long she barely had a single thought of a thing besides her own terror of the future, her own shock and panic... her child's pain... the uncertainty of her people... But finally, she looked up again, her tears finally dying down to nearly nothing now. And she remembered only then that old – and oddly drunk - medi-bot was still close by. She remembered then why she was there, in his office, in the first place. But her anger over it all was gone entirely, replaced by resignation.
"Don't think I don't get it," she said, her voice still shaky from the last of her tears. And she wiped helplessly at her optics with the back of her hand, before Ratchet, with at least some degree of sense and coordination, tossed a clean soft cloth to her from a desk drawer. It landed in her lap in a small pile, and she used it at once to wipe at her face-plate, suddenly embarrassed. "I understand. Or at least I think I do..."
Arcee, I promise you I hadn't touched a drop of high grade before I worked on your youngling. And no..." he shook his head forcefully and tried again to stand up from the desk – this time succeeding, even if unsteady and still wobbling badly on his feet. "Not during either." He looked at her for a moment, his expression serious even in his sorry state. And slowly he continued speaking. "It was... that day... that evening after I'd finished with her that I decided I needed a drink... and then another one..."
Ratchet looked around the office, clearly truly comprehending the extent of the mess in there for the first time since he'd begun to make said mess. Slowly, and looking down again, he mumbled with shame is his voice, "I saw enough critically injured younglings in wartime, brought to me dying because there were in the wrong place... Never thought I'd ever see such a mess again in wha'was supposed ta be peacetime..."
"Get some recharge, Ratchet," Arcee said simply. And her hand waved toward the little recharge room she knew he still used often, through a door behind the office. She turned then abruptly, walking out again, and back toward the youngling ward and her child – who she still felt dreadful in leaving alone for more than a moment.
Firestorm – her metal body panels still damp from her shower – paused in the doorway to her recharge room. And for a long moment, she just stood there, silent and unmoving as she watched her mate, sitting in their recharge station, their tiny son held snuggled on his left arm, while Laserbeak perched on his right. She wasn't even aware of having giggled with laughter over it, until Soundwave looked up, with a hint of a laugh of his own. But still, knowing then that she had indeed regardless, made her laugh again far louder.
"And to think..." she mused, smiling as she crossed the room and climbed promptly in with the whole small pile of them. "You feared you would never be good at this."
"I am..." Soundwave slowly looked his family over, before he looked up again, smiling slightly. "I am beginning to feel like I could be somewhat decent at it." He gave another small laugh and gestured to the baby with his optics. "I haven't dropped him once – a good sign surely. Though... tonight he took barely any fuel..."
"That's a youngling thing," Firestorm said, waving away his obvious concern with a hand as she talked. "Not a thing that you somehow did wrong. He'll eat again when he wants it." She looked down at the baby bot closely and then smiled again. "He just isn't hungry yet."
Laserbeak jumped, with such obvious care, from Soundwave's arm and down to the edge of the recharge station. And for a long moment, the small bird-bot just sat still, so close to the youngling now and watching him intently, before she finally moved to rest lightly against his still frame.
"She certainly loves him too," Firestorm mused, letting herself smile again. Because indeed – though they had both known they never had anything to worry about exactly – the little bird had truly taken to the youngling better than anyone could ever have imagined.
"He looks so much like you," Firestorm said, speaking up again after some silent minutes just spent marveling yet again at her own tiny child, in her bondmate's arms.
He does," Soundwave agreed, his optics scanning over the tiny bot's navy blue and dark purple paint – and his tiny frame a near perfect copy of his own besides. His optics settled then on Stormwave's chest panels – and the vertical stripes of pale yellow so perfectly matched on either side. He smiled brighter then. "Though... not so entirely unlike you either."
"Bot genetics are always so... random," Firestorm said, so entirely distracted now by just watching the tiny baby now lightly sucking on the fingers of one tiny hand. She looked then at his tiny wings – navy blue like the so much of his small body.
"He's a flyer too," she said, smiling her gladness over that fact – because given her own start as a ground-bound bot, she hadn't been sure before the youngling was born, if he'd ever fly or not.
"Flight is often a dominant trait," Soundwave answered. And his tone was so sure that she knew then that he'd never had much doubt.
The tiny youngling bot, still half awake in his creator's arms – his little red optics dimming in his growing sleepiness – began to whir quietly, tiny feet kicking just a little, and causing Soundwave to look him over again with his own optics nervous.
"I wish I could be half as confidant as you are," he said, alarmed despite the baby's still so obvious contentment. "You can always tell so easily what Stormwave wants. Or... what he doesn't want." His tone clearly showed his disappointment in himself. "You just know so quickly when he needs fuel or if he's just lonely... you know when to pick him up... when to put him back down... or when he just wants to move a little, because he can. I still can't go an hour without self-doubt and questioning myself..."
"You think I don't question myself too?" Firestorm said back. She snuggled closer against her mate and sighed under her intakes. And one hand reach out to their youngling, allowing him to promptly grab her offered finger in one tiny and warm metal hand. "I hold and play with, and youngling-sit our friend's little bots all the time remember? It's only because I've done that so much that I know anything at all about our own baby. And still... it's different with him because he's our own child... when every big decision is ours..."
"I should take him to his recharging basket," Soundwave mused, seriously. But instead of any move to do so, he stayed exactly where he was, sitting half under their covers with the baby in his arms. And Firestorm laughed a little under her intakes, knowing full well it was the very same every night. He'd eventually bring himself to put the baby down... or he wouldn't, and she would take the youngling from him, once creator and newborn were both recharging instead.
"My carrier comm'd today," Soundwave said with a laugh of his own – and sure enough making no move to get up, reluctant to let go of the baby so easily. "She asked me how soon we might have evening plans, simply so she can youngling-sit her grand-creation."
"Should either one of us really be so surprised by that question?" Firestorm replied, amused. But her voice turned serious again at once as she mused quietly, "I'm just glad your carrier approves of his name."
"Did you ever have any doubt she would?"
"Not really, no. Still, we never did ask her before deciding on it. It does closely match the names of her other children too after all...
"And she thinks it's a wonderful gesture," Soundwave answered.
"Soundwave..." Firestorm mused, hesitantly beside him. "Listen to that..."
Soundwave did so, for a good long moment. And finally, hearing nothing at all, he turned to look at her again, intently and curious.
"What am I listening to?" he asked, confused.
"Nothing!" Firestorm's voice was so hopeful then. "For the first time since the attack, it's truly quiet outside. Almost like... things are actually becoming normal again, and bots are calming down."
Soundwave shook his head slowly, too well experienced to hope that she was right – and too honest and practical to let her fall victim to the dangers of such false hope either.
"It's only one small break in the chaos," he said, cautiously.