Soundwave had been in the air for quite awhile by now. And he understood just how long he'd flown without a single stop, when the first hints of sunrise showed over the mountains far to the east. He never have been the strongest among Cybertronian flyers, certainly not close to the fastest of them, or the most manoeuvrable. But still he enjoyed flying as much as any flyer. And he possesed decent long range endurance, even if he was pushing it now. Soundwave knew he could well have simply thrown out a ground bridge and flown right through, reaching the place he was going in minutes, instead of many hours. But it had seemed the wrong thing to do when he'd started out. He'd wanted the quiet of night, and he'd wanted to fly. Besides, he knew well that without a ground bridge, tracking him would be so much harder if any Auotbot was so inclined to try.
He'd wanted to think too – at least he thought he had. But memories, most of which he'd run from for years - filling his days and nights with work and data codes, statistics and figures – stuffing his processor with endless information, analyzing and memorizing anything and everything – invaded his at first idle thoughts, just as soon as he'd dared to think them. And he'd flown for hours, his mind filled with thoughts of his carrier – the promise she made once to fly away with him to safety, somewhere his creator would never find them ever again. He thought for a while that he should hate her, had she lived. He should hate her for failing him when she was all he had to trust and rely on. He should hate her for off-lining – for being careless and daring enough to get herself killed, by the very bot he'd always warned her might just kill her if she kept on provoking his rage. But he didn't hate her. He couldn't. And he knew he did not truly want to.
His mind flashed for a while to life in the fighting pits of Kaon. And he'd forced the memories away the very best he could, by firing his engines and flying just as fast as he could for a while in short bursts of added speed, while he spun in the air – such ridiculous aerial stunts fully meant only to pull his focus to precise and careful flying and away from the past. But that didn't work for long. It wasn't nearly enough, and he always went right back again.
His first defeat. The mocking laughter of the spectator crowd. Five hundred bots chanting things he only knew were clearly valuer and disgusting, but he barely understood. He wondered then if they knew then he was still barely a youngling who had barely lived to know the things they yelled about. He remembered his first victory – not so long after his defeat, because he'd tried so hard while fearing a repeat of the mocking laughter. His opponent was alive – Soundwave would certainly not ever tried to kill him back then. But he certainly was injured, and Soundwave realized slowly the energon that covered the front of his own chest plate, had sprayed over him from the partly detached leg of the bot he'd beaten to finally please the sadistic crowd.
He recalled too clearly, the bot that had eventually destroyed his optics and his faceplate in the arena - A big green brute that called himself 'Scrapheap.' And the name may certainly have seemed derogatory and less than desirable to most sane and civil bots, but he always had seemed pleased and proud of it somehow. He was just the sort of loud mouth, arrogant bragger that drove Soundwave to near madness day after day in the dormitories with his endless talk about little or nothing. And Soundwave was certainly it was his finally daring to speak up when he so rarely did – to tell the bragging brute while drunk on high grade, to kindly close his mouth, that had somehow made Scrapheap hate him as much as he did.
It was just after sunrise, when Soundwave transformed low in the air, and dropped easily to the ground. It was smooth and shiny here. And the sun reflected off the landscape of polished crystal, more than bright enough to make his optics burn. Soundwave shuddered at the stinging discomfort, somewhere inside his optics, because while it may not have been nearly as bad, it reminded him completely of a time so long ago now, that he felt like the pain would never stop. And he stood a moment, frozen with his fear, making himself understand that it really was only sunlight now that burned his optics, and even then because of the bright reflection.
His face-shield was off. It had felt so strange to fly without it – or stand thinking, or do anything for that matter. But he'd been so determined anyway to try. Promptly though, and mostly because of the sun and light reflections, he retrieved it from his storage compartment and put it back on quickly. He'd need it anyway – he needed his screens in his bot mode. Quickly he double checked his maps, half expecting that the place he'd landed had surely been wrong. But the map confirmed he was indeed right in his navigation.
Soundwave looked around him again, confused now. Because the place he'd been led to as a place of meeting, seemed to contain no place at all to meet with anyone. Not to mention there was no one there to meet with at all, despite the string of increasingly urgent and impatient messages.
'Run away,' a voice encouraged, strong inside his head. It sounded a bit like Firestorm's voice, though he knew it come only from himself. 'Fly right back to me. To the Autobots and to New Cybertron. This is not you anymore. It doesn't need to be..."
He considered obeying the voice for a moment. And he wanted to more than anything. He recalled the warmth of her small arms around him, her little hands holding his every time he woke up screaming at nothing at all in the middle of the night. He could see her smile – the image of it was forever stored in his processor. And he shook that image off at once he didn't want to think of her because he didn't want to miss her, which he did already in the short time he'd been flying. And centuries of discipline were just as strong as love, if not stronger still So he just stood there, frozen in place on the crystal ground, angry and sad, helpless, elated, curious and horrified all at once.
The ground slid open then, with only a sudden grinding underfoot to warn him of it at all. He was standing in the worst place he could possibly have stood. And he would have fallen into the hold that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, had he not thought fast enough to drop to his knees adn grab for a still stable edge of the sharp crystal around him. When the shifting stopped, he dared to let go, because it seemed to him he was clearly supposed to. The drop was short, barely further than the height of his body. And he hit lightly, his feet making a light metallic tap as he did.
He was in some sort of crystal cave, shaking a little now from his memories. And for a flash of a second, he dared to gasp silently in wonder at the sheer beauty of the place. His immediate thought was that Firestorm would love it. And he was sad in an instant just to think of her again.
"Soundwave!" a too familiar voice boomed behind him, right along with the noise of huge heavy footsteps on the rigid amythist floor, And Soundwave turned around, slowly to face a large imposing silver form that stood behind him. "You never were usually one to keep me waiting. How kind of you to finally make an appearance."
"Lord Megatron," Soundwave answered slowly - too slowly, he understood at once. He spoke thouhg his vocalizer modulator now for the first time in a couple of years. And the sound of his own voice, so unnatural and warped by technology almost frightened him just a little, making him force back an inward shudder before he continued. "Please, forgive my delay."
The condition of the tiny damaged youngling bot was worsening rapidly as she day wore on. Ratchet had known right from the start - given centuries of his own tragic experiences in such things – that could only be the case. Still, for all of his knowledge – his cautious exception – it was certainly no easier on him to see it all happen.
Her systems ran so hot. That was clear from a fast glance at the monitor behind her. Her metal had been close to super-heated for a time by the heat of whatever it was that had done her the damage she suffered to begin with. Her repair system was down, taken almost entirely offline, by the extreme heat and most of all, by system shock. And that system shock, he was still failing badly to bring her out of.
She was still being cooled slowly, wrapped constantly in dampened coverings, because to cool her frame any faster would have risked warping or even cracking her metal. But the process was too slow for the intake pump, whose seals Ratchet suspected had weakened from her internal temperature. And sometime not long after the sun had come up, he'd suspected they'd begun to leak. Her intakes rattled and whirred horribly. And every now and then would squeak and squeal, as she tried harder and harder to take in enough good air though the faulting pump. And the work it took just to intake - combined with the stress of horrible ongoing pain - had caused her spark to race from the stress of it.
The body armour that had covered her damaged arm and shoulder panel, had been taken off as planned because it was useless to keep it. There was no hope of saving it - and was doing far more harm than any real good. A devastatingly large section of her upper chest panel had been removed too, because it fared little better. But without a repair system, the damage underneath all of that - which over the most part reached clean to the inner frame structure – had little hope of even starting to fix itself. Repairs were badly needed. Massive repair work that would most likely mean replacement of the entire arm eventually. But she never had been stable enough to even consider repair work yet, and her downward turn had made any thought there may have been about it disappear entirely.
Ratchet stood, at present close to the tiny bot, busy wrapping medical grade cloth, soaked in refined energon tightly around her damaged arm and shoulder panel – a last ditch idea he could only hope, in his desperation might do her some good. And it was so obvious to him that he was causing her pain in doing that – and she was somewhat awake, alert and aware – optics blinking a little now and then. But in her weakness, she barely struggled, and made hardly a sound, while the old bot worked.
Knockout sat near her, on the other side of the recharge station she lay helplessly on, still kept bundled at least partly in the metallic transport blanket, strapped into it securely, with the the cooling rags in place underneath that, and the wires from monitors, pulled carefully through the places where the clips connected. And he read to her from a data pad he held in his hands - a children's story from planet Earth, and something she could not possibly understand enough to truly follow the story line, even were she stronger. But she listened intently to him anyway, her head turned a little on the partly folded top of the silvery blanket, so she could look at him, with those half closed and fading, slowly blinking optics of hers, while he read. She even smiled a little, the corners of her mouth turning up just a tiny bit, when he spoke in the highest pitch he possibly could, to read the lines of one certain character. She smiled again when he read the next line, a new character, in a far lower one to indicate the character was someone very big.
Bumblebee stood next to Ratchet, handing him supplies as he asked for them. And he turned slowly, a serious look on his faceplate, when Arcee crept carefully into the small room.
"We almost took her out of that transport wrap last night," he explained, gesturing with a hand to the youngling in the metallic cover. "But it seems to be keeping her calm just being all packed up like that."
"She's our little bot in a bag for now then." Arcee whispered back, smiling just a little.
"Hey," she said gently to the little bot, just as soon as her bondmate paused in the middle of the story he'd been reading in order to let her She reached out just a second, meaning to gently touch her. But any part she might safely have touched was still bundled in the metallic blanket, secured with straps and fasteners. "Remember me?"
The youngling bot barely seemed to notice her at first. Finally though after a moment, she blinked a little, optics slightly more alert. And slowly she nodded her head the tiniest bit in answer. A second later she gave a little whine of pain, and tears filled her optics.
"I promised I'd come see you for a bit, didn't I?" Arcee reminded the little bot. And she smiled brightly, just hoping to see the tiny youngling smile back. She did the slightest bit, before she whined again, more pained tears showed in her optics. She whined and sniffled a little, blinking a second before a few escaped, sliding down her face-plate.
"It's alright, little bot," Knockout said slowly, speaking to the youngling, and again showing his once surprising patience when it came to the little ones. "I know you can't help it. Cry a little if you need to. Would you like me to keep reading?"
"Still another ongoing complication with this one," Ratchet murmured quietly. He continued on with his work. He really had little option but to go on, even considering the tiny bot's clear discomfort and growing distress, because any chance it may just do her some good was better than nothing by then. "I can't seem to keep her pain medicine quite high enough to keep her fully comfortable, without her sparkrate raising even higher than it is now." He shook his head, defeated. "It's such a tricky thing with bots this young. Their little bodies just can't process the compounds like we can."
"You're being so brave," said, still speaking gently to the tiny bot, and so clearly trying hard just to encourage her a little. And just as clearly it worked, because the youngling smiled just a little once again, through tears that streamed down her face-plate.
Ratchet, still busy working, nodded briefly in his teammate's direction. Because really it was true. The tiny bot certainly did cry – given just how young she was, it would have been utterly shocking and even alarming if she didn't. But it was not half as much as anyone might have expected. All day since coming out of power down she'd sniffle a little here and there, and she'd certainly whimper and whine. And every so often, when her constant pain got to be too much to put up with, or she simply got too scared, tears would stream down her face-plate for a while. But she'd always stop again, as soon as she could manage, and that would be that.
"Wanna... hear... rest..." the youngling said slowly, still crying Her voice was so quiet it was barely heard at all, and it shook with her tears. But she looked up, her expression hopeful, communicating with her optics far more than she could with her words.
"Okay," Knockout nodded, smiling. He looked again at the data pad, still in his hands, looking for the place he had left off before he slowly continued on reading.
Arcee crept back around to the other side of the room again, where she stood close to Ratchet's left side a moment, silently. Finally, moving slowly so was not to startle him while he worked, she rested a hand gently on his shoulder panel to hold just a small part of his attention.
"She's sure giving this a good try," she said in a whispered tone, trying hard to give him hope when she knew at once how he feared he'd lose this tiny patient. "She's still trying so hard to laugh and smile. This little bot isn't giving up just yet." Arcee glanced up at a clock, mounted across the room, her her optics went right back to the tiny bot again. "She's survived more than halfway through a full day now."
"I had that old CR chamber moved in here a while ago," Ratchet said quietly. He gestured once with his optics in the direction of the strange machine in the furthest corner, behind the place where Knockout sat, and plugged in to a power outlet, at the end now of a long complex power up sequence. "'Bee suggested we put the little one in there." The old bot shook his head just slightly, considering. He reached a hand out to his young student still standing on his other side, and he took the next long strip of wet cloth from him carefully. "The idea isn't terrible. You know well we've seen it do some good for bots in worse condition than her. It might be worth a try if we have to... but I'm far from crazy about the idea."
"Ratchet, if you think it might work..." Arcee began. But the old medic interrupted her gently with a quick wave of a hand before he went right back to his work. He shook his head again, with doubt and uncertainly clear on his face-plate.
"This was technology invented well into the war, built to repair critically damaged soldiers found close to dying on the battle field. There were few, if any, youngling bots left on Cybertron by then," he explained, still doubtful. "I highly doubt the effects of CR chambers on bots this young have ever been tested."
The tiny bot's intakes squealed louder than before, and there was no doubt left that her intake pump was leaking. Ratchet shook his head staring at the readings on the monitor. He could easily repair the pump. Replace it entirely if he needed to do that instead. But the tiny bot was far too sick to survive such a job, or even a power down by now. Her spark raced a moment more, before it's pulse rate dropped to less than half of normal, only to sudden pick up again, racing as ever. Ratchet, having done just as much as he possibly could then, gently shifted the tiny destroyed arm, so that it was back inside the metallic cover again. The weak tiny bot, gave steady nearly silent whimpers for a moment, wet optics staring helplessly at Knockout while he just kept on reading. But her tiny cries stopped just as soon as she was tightly wrapped back in the cover again.
The youngling's intakes all but stopped then, and after several seconds in which she had not cycled any air at all, a monitor alarm began to chime and shriek. Knockout, still close beside her, stopped his reading abruptly and dropped the data pad to the floor. Acting quickly and thinking even faster, he reached forward just as far as he could on his cart, placing his hands under the back of the little bot's upper frame, lifting her covers and all up into a slightly inclined position. Jarred by the motion and stirred a little from the pressure now placed on her fast failing intake pump, air left her mouth in a fast little gasp, before she quickly took in more. He turned the top section of the recharge station up a little after that, and set her back down, because at least for the moment that was working.
"We've got to do something," Arcee said then, and she knew full well that was of course little more than a statement of the obvious. But this youngling still made her think of her own child, and that made her panic where she should have been calmer.
Ratchet had moved quickly to stand in front of the CR chamber checking and rechecking systems, because he saw little chance aside from it now. But still, with the door propped wide open at front and his head partway in so he could double check the fluid levels at close the the floor the thing, he shook his head yet again.
"I'm still not sure I like this much," he mumbled. He stood upright again and turned a little, expressing the things he feared most. "She might just start to panic over this. And It could be a lot. Any bad panic now, with her intakes fragged to anything, and her spark so close to giving out, and we have a chance she may just stop intaking or go right into full on spark failure. I'm about to medicate her as much as I safely can, and she will naturally drop into slow power down as soon as she's inside. But still... I wouldn't do something so utterly reckless... and it certainly is... if I thought we had another viable option left."
"Let me try..." Knockout murmured, thinking hard. And he appeared to consider his own thoughts carefully. "Do you think... Let me hold her a moment."
"That's just a very bad..." Ratchet muttered, surprised at once by the strange suggestion from his teammate. He was going to tell him quickly and in no uncertainly terms, that that was just a very bad idea indeed. The tiny youngling, he reasoned quickly, was far too sick, in far too much pain and discomfort to be moved without absolute reason for it, let alone held on his lap while he sat on his cart.
The old bot however, considered again, just as a second after he'd begun. The younglng bot may have been damaged, and her state certainly was horrific and devastating. But she needed comfort and compassion as much as any tiny bot. She needed understanding, and Knockout had so clearly become, so quickly, the bot she related to and trusted most of any one of the medical team – probably thanks mostly to his unexpected affinity for youngling patients.
Being well bundled into the metallic blanket with the straps fastened firmly around her, made her much easier to move than she might have been otherwise. And Ratchet slowly picked her up from the recharge station, supporting her body with both of his arms and careful of anything too terribly damaged on her frame. The alarming warmth of her body was noticeable to the touch even through the heavy covering. And she whined just a little as soon as she was moved. But her optics were closed and stayed that way. And she made not even a try at the smallest of movements.
"Hey," Knockout said, speaking now to the youngling, and doing so gently, just as soon as Ratchet had placed her laying on his lap with her head just slightly upright against his armrest. "Can you look at me for a second, little bot?" The youngling's optics slowly opened, blinking. And he held her lightly, supporting her body a little, like he would with a bot so much younger than she was, when her optics showed panic for a brief second.
Her visuals were clearly unfocused, but she stared at him anyway, so obviously trying her best, because she trusted him. Working as well as he could with one hand still not perfectly functional, he began undoing the snaps and clips of the metallic blanket she'd thus far stayed bundled in. She gave the faintest of whimpers then, in distress at losing that comfort. Because 'Bee had been right about that keeping her as calm as she was. He pulled the covering away from her upper frame a bit, and she whimpered just a little louder, as much as she clearly could. And it was so sadly obvious then that she feared more pain, because recent experience told her to.
"Hey. It's okay, little bot," Knockout said. He gently picked up her undamaged hand, and shifted a little on his cart, so that he could hold it firmly in his – a way to hold her focus just a little more "You think you can talk a little bit?"
The youngling's mouth opened just the tiniest bit, and her intake hissed a little, as she tried to make her vocalier work. For all of her trying, it looked like she would fail, that she was just too far gone to make even a purposeful sound. But she tried again, because Arcee had been right – the tiny bot wasn't giving up just yet. And slowly, after a struggling intake, pulled in though her failing intake pump, she barely mumbled "Umm-ha."
"I have a question for you," Knockout said, speaking just as he so strangely did with all his youngling patients - that strangely near adult to adult, mature kind of speech that they all so oddly appeared to respond to with such positive promise. "An important one. Do you know we aren't ever trying to hurt you?"
"Yes" The youngling's voice was so very small. But she'd managed an actual word. Her badly destroyed frame had never stopped hurting. And just like so many times that day, coolant tears began to spill again from her optics when she'd simply had too much.
"You're okay," Knockout said gently. "Go ahead and cry if you need to. Remember?"
Coolant tears streamed down the tiny bot's face-plate then. And for a good long moment she just lay, still as ever, in Knockout's lap, crying silently because she couldn't help it and this time it was just a little worse than before. Ratchet stared for a second toward the clock across the room. And he tried, in his head, to think, making his calculations down to the minute. He knew when he'd last given her as much pain medication as he safely could have done. And it had been just a bit too long ago he realized. Despair threatened to overcome him quickly as he realized he'd dropped the ball on that, even if only just a little. Even if he certainly hadn't meant to.
"Plea... please... no more pain. Hurt... hurts... no... nooo..." the tiny bot said, her voice mostly mumbling badly, when Ratchet gently shifted her around just a little bit in order to inject painkillers meant to help her. She'd began to panic again, and surely her mumbling would have have been screams if she'd only been strong enough. It had been not yet a full day since the tiny youngling bot had been so badly injured. And already she'd woken from a power-down - and the near panic attack hat had come with that process - to find a fair bit of armor gone from her frame. She'd been hooked up to monitors and energon lines - one of which had needed redoing when she;d pulled it free in an eariler panic, and been subjected to multiple changes of the tight metallic bandages that covered her damaged body - while sticking in places horribly enough to cause her to cry loudly with pain. And all day, given just how young she was, she really had been good all things considered. But finally, it seemed now like she truly close to the most she could take before completely breaking down.
"You're alright, you're alright," Knockout said to her slowly, patiently. He held her against him just slightly again, while her undamaged hand clung tightly to his until she'd calmed down again.
"I... am..." the tiny bot said a moment later. Her tears had stopped again And she blinked her optics once and then twice, trying so hard just to speak out loud. "I am... off-lining."
Her words were not a question. That was clear from her tone. And the comment she'd made was one of an observant and well aware youngling simply stating a fact.
"Yes, you are," Knockout answered, telling her the brutal and honest truth when many might have tried to lie. She just lay, still as ever, blinking a little, while she tried to take in it, to wrap her head around what that really meant, and he held her hand just a little tighter to hold her attention again.
"There's so little more we can do," he said, still speaking to her like a bot who so obviously understood every word he said. "But there is one more thing we want to try. And we think it's going to work. Can you trust us?"
"Yeah..."
"We are going to put you in a..." Knockout paused there, and he shook his head just slightly. Clearly he was trying hard just to choose the best way in which to explain the complex workings of the CR chamber to a small youngling, who knew nothing of such things in the slightest and had no frame of reference. Finally he gave a small smile again, and said decisively, "well, how about I show you?"
The tiny bot smiled just a little. And her youngling curiosity showed itself in her optics, despite her weakened and terrible state. Ratchet, both still doubtful and dismayed, Backed away from the chamber to stand far back out the way. And as soon as he did, Knockout carefully moved himself turning around, his hand letting go of the little bot's so that he could park in front of it's open door.
"See," he said slowly. "It's like a... like a big cabinet. A bot sized storage cupboard! Of course it's big bot sized. So a little big for you... we'll make it work."
Knockout turned his head a little then, looking around the room for his bondmate, who still stood closer to the door, with 'Bee. He indicated exactly what he needed from her with hand and finger gestures so vague he might have meant anything. But Arcee knew him better than any bot did. And after only a second in which she stared at him, obviously as baffled as anyone, she grabbed a little basin from a worktable behind her and hurried toward him with it. After more silent gestures – which of course he made instead of simply talking, so as not to bother or scare the tiny bot on his lap – she bent down to reach into CR chamber with it.
"See...," Knockout continued, still patiently. The youngling's intakes began to sputter and rattle again and this time still worse. The montiors showed her spark began to rapidly move between racing and slowing again And he shifted her carefully, gently as he could, assuring her head was raised higher. She gasped for an intake, and then another before it all evened out. And promptly she began to whimper and cry lightly from the motion and the pain it had caused her. "The tank here... the bot sized storage cupboard, the bottom of it is filled with... a special kind of cleaning fluid.
Arcee, again understanding his intentions in only a second held the basin in front of the tiny bot, and well in her reach. And she moved, reaching with her fingers just enough to dip them into the fluid that now filled the basin. She gave a good smile then, the biggest she'd managed yet, so clearly amused by the heavy strange liquid substance that no bot could ever quite manage to fully describe the feeling of exactly.
Knockout shifted her just slightly in his lap again so that he could work. And carefully, working just as well as he could at such a task, with one hand still not perfect, he began unfastening the metallic covering entirely. She whimpered just a little louder in protest, because she really was far more comfortable all bundled up so well. He pulled the cover away from her frame, and she cried a bit in fear, because once again, to her, it could only mean inevitable pain. But Knockout just continued on, and though her little coolant tears she just stared it him, still trusting. He reached around for a clean rag and dipped it into the basin, before he gently used that to rub the fluid onto a part of her body that was damaged but hardly the worst of it.
The younglng cried a second, louder than she'd managed to in hours. But it seemed in seconds that it was only fear and horrible expectation that had make her cry like that. Because in only a second more, she settled again, with surprise clear on her little face-plate. Knockout repeated the whole thing again, daring this time to try it on damage that was even worse. And this time she simply let him, because there was little pain involved at all.
"Good little bot," Knockout said to her. He gently pulled the wrappings away from her destroyed arm, and cringed sadly when he caused her more tears in doing that. "Good little bot. Trust me on this okay." He dripped some fluid then, a good amount this time, over the mangled wires and charred metal that had once been her tiny green hand. And the youngling, amazingly appeared only to lay calmer on his lap, instead of any fighting at all.
"Ratchet is going to put you right into that stuff," Knockout said slowly. "It'll do even more good then. What do you think?"
"Mmm-ha..." came a quiet reply. The youngling looked so nervous, but still she stayed calm.
"For a moment, it'll feel just like it does now..." he kept right on dripping CR fluid steadily onto parts of her tiny body. "Warm. Kind of... weird. It should hardly hurt at all. You'll go into recharge pretty fast, and you'll sleep a while. When you are recharging we will close the door, but there is no way to ever lock you in. And of course it's okay to be a bit scared at first..."
"I... want to..." the youngling said, and her optics closed then both in trust and in lack of ability not to as she grew still weaker.
Ratchet, shaking his head now, not from annoyance but simply amazement, stepped across the room again and gently lifted the tiny bot from his teammate's knees. He took another long step forward, and just as gently, he placed her inside the tank. Her body settled at once into the CR fluid,which covered her over almost entirely, and he shifted her position a little, so her arms stayed beneath it and her feet turned a little to one side comfortably. The whole time she gave not a single cry, and even sighed a little, almost perfectly content in there as she smiled just the slightest bit, before her processor powered down.
"I guess I've just gotta keep believing it's possible," Smokescreen mused. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, and took a drink from his container. "Love is all around now. Surely there's still a bot out there for me somewhere..."
"Well, this hole in the wall is sure not the best place to even think of looking," Bulkhead warned laughing a little.
Smokescreen nodded with hesitant understanding. And he looked around, dismayed, at the inside of the 'Chrome Hubcab. He nodded again, more agreeable now, when he caught sight of a large blue bot, purging his tanks next to the door. And when his optics fell on another bot, a small white and red one, shamelessly groping a much larger fellow who so clearly didn't seem to mind being groped at all like that in public, his nodding turned to cringing.
"This was a decent place when it first opened," he observed in dismay. And he spoke just a ittle louder than before in order to be heard over the sound of yelling nearby – loud threats from the clearly jealous bond-mate of the big bot being groped by the little fellow. Somewhere, on the other side of the large bar, another bot purged all over the floor, while a another ran for the wash station, and instead stumbled drunkenly against a wall.
"This is..." Smokescreen mumbled, still on high alert as a well trained soldier despite sime high grade in his system. He gestured toward the table close by, where the jealous bot was now waving his fists around and shouting at the smaller one who yelled just as loudly. "This is not going to end well."
"This place ain't so bad," Wheeljack said. And so obviously far more intoxicated then his friends were, he laughed loudly for a good moment, before he suddenly learned sideways on is chair, nearly falling off in the process, to smack Smokescreen hard across the back panel. "You shoulda seen da places we hung out in back in the old wrecker days!"
"Yeah" Bulk muttered beside him. And he shook his head hard, before he finished his own drink. "Back in the days before three drinks'd have you nearly falling over!"
"So, what about you, Bulk'?" Smokescreen asked, curious and making decent conversation. "Have you been looking for your special bot?" If Bulkhead had been looking, like so many bots were, he had certainly never bothered to talk about it, even to his friends.
"Nah, not really." Bulkhead shrugged as he answered, but hen he appeared to think a second and finally he continued on. "Well, I am, I guess. I mean if it happens, it happens, right? But looking for love, actively seeking it? Nah."
"It's been a bit tough since the war ended," Bulkhead admitted then. He set his now empty drink container down on the table in front of him. But quickly he shook his head at the nearby server, who looked in is direction, and silently inquired with her optics if he needed another. "It's like... yeah, most bots are looking for love now. Makes sense. Everyone wants to mate eventually and now's the time, yeah. But... I think I want something ever more than that." He shook his head then and looked a moment down at the stained floor. "Yeah. It's stupid. Makes no sense."
"Bulk'" Wheeljack exclaimed laughing again at next to nothing. "When did you become so fraggin' con-ta-late-ive?" The word he obvious meant to use was 'contemplative.' But in his drunkenness he simply couldn't get his vocalizer around such a word. Smokescreen only shook his head.
"I dunno," Bulkhead said, shrugging. And he smiled slightly. "I guess I have more time to think now."
"Now there's a bot for you, Smoky," Wheeljack interupted. He stood up from his chair in order to point a little too excitedly across the barroom. And lost his balance at once, stumbling backward and back into the chair before he would have otherwise hit the floor.
In almost the very same second, now familiar small bot flew across the table, thrown there by the bigger bot he'd been forced to fight with by getting too friendly with his mate. All three Autobots sitting there were about to jump up from their seats, but the fight took itself just as quickly to the other side of their table. And the watched the small red and white groper as he yelled in the face of a much bigger and angry bot, finally daring to shove his hands against the big fellow's chest panel in aggression- his state so clearly far too altered to know he didn't stand a chance. Slowly they moved toward the doors.
"Assuming a'course ya like minibots..." Wheeljack said slurring his words a little, and continuing right on his line of thinking just as thouhg he had never been interrupted by the fight. Smokescreen, confused by too much going on all at once, and never sure in the first place exactly where his drunk teammate had meant to have been pointing, only blinked his optics at him a moment in despair. His hand gestured at once toward the doors of the establishment, where the pair of bots now fought loudly right outside.
"Are you kidding," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "That little minibot out there is about to get his alf kicked and good because he's obviously an overconfident creep!"
"Nuh-uh," Wheeljack answered, laughing yet again and shaking his head. "Not that minibot, Smoky." The white wrecker cringed visible, before he laughed again. And this time he did a better job of pointing, and right toward the bar. "That one!"
Smokescreen turned toward the bar, his optics landing at once on a familiar white and yellow paintjob.
Are you fragging kidding me?" He questioned. And shaking his head he leaned over the table to talk to his teammate in hushed tones. "Firestorm? You seriously think I'm going to actually...?"
"Ya gotta admit, she's pretty cute," Wheeljack answered. And he wasn't doing as good a job of keeping his own voice down. "Not to mention smart. Just as stubborn as you. And proud to be Cybertronian."
"And she's practically Soundwave's bondmate," Smokescreen said firmly, cringing at little in fear at the very thought of a fate that may just await any bot who dared one wrong move where she was concerned. Besides, he'd never thought of her in the way his teammate implied now. And he knew he'd find it just a bit too disconcerting, if the bot had not been more than slightly drunk.
"They'll never last," Wheeljack said, his intoxicated state so clearly bringing out a kind of cynicism in him. "Sweet little bot like her, trying to make it with former third in command of the 'cons. Soundwave is still just plain scary. Besides, I've never heard him say much. And he might just have gone off the rails now anyways. Everyone knows by now, he took off last night and I guess he's still not back."
"Soundwave talks to Firestorm," Smokescreen said. And he left it at that, because he never had enjoyed gossip and speculation when it come to the hows and whys of who loved who.
"I don't wanna think yet about why Soundwave took off though," he admitted seconds later. And he polished off his drink quickly, between his words. "I can't stand to think something bad is really going on. That he'd betray us now..."
"He wouldn't," Bulkhead said with confidence. And Smokescreen remembered that Bulk' and Soundwave had by then become at least something close to friends. He shook his head a little then, only hoping his teammate was right.
"Let's call her over," Smokescreen suggested after a moment. And without even waiting for the agreement of the others, he stood up from his chair to do exactly that.
Firestorm, still standing close to the bar alone, turned slowly to walk toward them, her face-plate showing that she had only then realized they were in there at all. She still pushed her walking frame in front of her,while Laserbeak, rode oddly enough, on the front of the handlebars. But she barely seemed to lean on it anymore, using it instead only as a safety measure in case she happened to stumble in walking too fast. And hesitantly she parked it beside a chair at the Autobots' table and sat herself down slowly.
"Firestorm, what are you doing here?" Bulkhead questioned. And the others nodded a little at his question, because it really was clearly the one they had all wanted to ask her.
"I... I just wanted to get away from the base for a while," the little white and yellow bot answered slowly. And she sighed as she did. Every hint of her usual bright smile was gone from her face-plate, replaced instead by anxiety and spark break. The strange little bird looked oddly agitated too, and it didn't take an expert on... whatever sort of bot she actually was... to know at once that she was wasn't happy. "I talked with the police bots, and then I went back home to my room. But I couldn't sit around and think anymore."
"Soundwave left Laserbeak?" Smokescreen observed slowly. He hadn't realized that before, and he wondered if anyone else had. It could have been a good sign or it could have been a terrible one. He wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly which just yet.
"She was with me in Soundwave's room this morning when I woke up from recharge," Firestorm explained, still speaking slowly. And tears formed at the corners of her optics, before she quickly wiped them away roughly with the back of her hand. "I woke up to find her perching on the edge of his recharge station, right above a data pad he'd left for me." the tears came back and she pawed at them again in obvious frustration. But the battle was lost, and tears quickly fell down her face-plate. "He'd wrote that he was sorry. That he'd be back as soon as he could. That was it. I... I didn't give the pad to the patrol bots. It's none of their business really and it prob'ly means nothing to them anyway. I dunno why he'd ever leave Laserbeak though. I never thought he'd ever leave her behind."
"What are you gonna do?" Bulkhead questioned, his tone compassionate, understanding. And Firestrom shrugged just a little, so clearly helpless. She held out an arm, just like everyone had seen Soundwave do so many times. And the little bird-bot hopped right on at once.
"Not much I can do. She's mine to care for now, until Soundwave comes back. And I still refuse to think he won't, because he would never leave her forever, even if he did me. Laserbeak is smart, not much trouble. She knows how to function on her own. You know as well as anyone, she's so much more than just some mindless animal. I just wish I could talk with her like Soundwave can. I can't hear her voice in my head like he..."
"What about yourself?" Bulk' asked. And that was clearly what he'd meant in the first place. He looked her in the optics intently. "You gonna be alright?"
"Yeah," Firestorm said, still slowly. And she looked up then, confidence just barely starting to show on her face-plate. "I know he's coming back to us. I... I just wish I knew if its going to be hours, or a month.."
Smokesceen looked beside him then to exchange fast looks with Wheeljack. And on the white wrecker's faceplate, he saw sudden understanding, mixed with his regret. It was clear then that he understood love where he'd doubted it only moments before.
"There was an explosion last night, inside that electronics shop downtown that's never open," Firestorm said, after she'd been silent for a while just staring at the floor. And all three Autobots nodded, because of course everybody knew about that by then. "A little youngling was involved, and she was nearly killed." Again, the Autobots nodded, sadly. "Soundwave may done bad things. He's never tried to tell he he hasn't. But he never liked it. Never took any joy from hurting anyone. And he'd never hurt a youngling..."
They'd all been informed of just as much as the police bots already knew, because of course, the Autobots were doing their best to help with the investigation. The shop, it seemed had been a front, though that had been suspected for a while now. The place had a windowless basement, reinforced and hidden from the city, and that was all that have prevented the entire shop from blowing off it's foundation along with half a downtown block when a fire had started in an unregistered chemical lab, and setting off half a basement full of illegal explosives stashed away inside.
"Ratchet says the little bot's a little better now," Bulk' said. "He's more confidant now... says she might just be okay..."
"The patrol bots are trying to blame Soundwave for a part in the explosion," Fierestorm explained. And again tears showed in her optics. Laserbeak looked up then from her place perched on the little bot's arm. And she made the strangest sad whirring sound when she did. "They say that younglings creator, who also owns the shop, was obvious responsible for accident. But still, they wonder who he worked for... they say somebot was probably about to start building bombs, given what they found down there. The patrol says it had to be someone smart enough to do it. Someone who knew how to hate enough. And when Soundwave disappeared the very same night..."
"They told us the same thing," Smokescreen admitted, reluctant to do so, but decided he should only because the topic was now already on the table.
"The patrol bots won't do much without the okay from Ultra Magnus," Bulkhead said thoughtfully. "And he's not convinced there's really a connection at all. Those patrolers are all just neutrals from returned ships. They never saw Soundwave in action. They didn't fight against him in battle or get to know how he works, and they've gotten him all wrong. Ultra Magnus is an Autobot. He knows as well as we do that Soundwave's thing was espionage and hacking... certainly not explosives."
"Soundwave probably could build a bomb, sure," Smokescreen said honestly. "But that doesn't mean he ever would. Besides, that wasn't the first time something blew up. Remember the power generator downtown?" he looked at his teammates then, meaning to get across a point he knew they already understood themselves regardless. "He and Firestorm were both victims then."
"You were never supposed to have actually been good, you know," Ratchet remarked with a chuckle of laughter obvious behind his serious tone. He was in the midst of digging around inside a cabinet, and he didn't even bother to turn around, while he talked so casually.
And Knockout - sitting in a chair against the far wall of the medbay, his focus intent on the leg exercises he was doing, working with a tension band looped around his left foot, and held in his hands – looked at the back of the old bot's head across the room for a second, baffled.
"I... I'm sorry...?"
"I never got to know you well as a fellow medic in the time between your defection and your unfortunate illness," Ratchet explained. He found what he'd been looking for – a small little tool kit he didn't seem to use much, and quickly he crossed the medbay, carrying it. "I knew you were running the show here while I worked back on Earth. And I can't say I ever had high hopes in that. Rebellious young know it all, learned half of all you knew among Decepticons... just as interested in street racing and the perfect finish and paint than in any actual work and study." the old bot stopped beside a worktable, set down the kit, and stood shaking his head in obvious bewilderment for a second, before he went on. "I thought it would be the end of your career once your processor failed. I wrongly thought at first you'd hardly care. To watch your work today with that youngling patient of ours..." he paused a second, and his optics finally met Knockout's. Again he shook his head. But of course he was smiling as he did it. "You were never supposed to be so good at this. At least not in the stubborn processor of this crabby old bot!"
"Crabby old bot...," Knockout sat chuckling at that a moment. He paused in his exercise long enough to give one small shrug, before he went right back to it again. The chuckle quickly became a laugh then and he said pointedly, "you know, as a fellow medic and a bot who'd come to respect you immensely, I feel like I should protect that reputation of yours if you asked me to. But it's too late I fear. Everyone one in this city knows by now, you're actually a nice old bot just pretending to be an old crank!"
Ratchet opened his mouth again. And for a second of two it looked as though he was certainly going to say something. But instead he just closed it again a moment later, and stood shaking his head, while he laughed out loud just a little. He was certainly laughing more all the time now. And his growing tendency for humming in the medbay was far from unknown either. Peacetime, it seemed, was a good for him, as it was for every other bot in Cybertron.
"You're working with a much stronger band now than what I started you with the other day," the old bot said, after another moment or two. His tone was serious again, and he looked over the resistance band in his teammate's hands.
"Well..." Knockout answered, with another chuckle as he pulled down against the band again, aware as always of the slight sense of pulling, but nothing unpleasant. "I suppose I might have..."
"It would seem you've doubled your resistance level already," Ratchet said, his tone a strange mix of scolding and impressed. Finally he gave a slight huff, and looked his teammate in the optics. "Just remember to be careful. It's like anything in your case... if you think you can do it, do it, and if it feels like its okay it probably is. But don't you push yourself too far. That could spell trouble and you know it!"
"I know. I feel fine so far."
"Okay. But drop that band for a minute regardless. It's time we got this done, hey?"
Knockout nodded, and with some strange hesitation he dropped the resistance band, letting it fall to the medbay floor. He held out a hand, his right one, and let the old bot carefully open the little panel on his lower left wrist, with a small wrench at the ready on the worktable beside him.
"It's been a few years now already," Ratchet remarked, and the dismay in his voice was entirely obvious. "I'm surprised you never did try to do this yourself already, or at least ask someone else to. It's not exactly something I would even count as medical exactly. Arcee could easily have done this..."
"I know..." Knockout answered, oddly uneasy. "I thought about it before, reactivating my weapons... but then I suppose I just never could see why I really needed them." He shook his head just a little, making sure to hold his hand and arm still while Ratchet worked. "I'm not sure I need them now..."
"Your weaponry of course doubles as part of your integrated medical equipment," Ratchet said, his tone near scolding again. "As you come to practice again far more, you'll need that. Besides, and more importantly I suppose, I don't want you unarmed anymore, plain and simple." The old bot paused a moment, the little wrench paused in the middle of what he was doing with it, and just shook his head as if to shake off the worst of his thoughts. "Not after you were beaten up in the street... again."
"You've come way too far to be little more than a punching bag for bots with their misguided agendas," the old bot continued, after a moment. His tone was serious as it could be. "You may have no real ability left at all with those weapons of yours. In fact I'm sure you won't. But that bot in the street yesterday... his friend years ago with that fragging bar... they'd likely have likely thought twice if you'd just been armed and they'd known it. This violence around here is only getting worse it seems. And I don't like to think it... not when it comes to a bot that I call a friend. But there may not be around around to step in the next time some bot shows up in a public street with a weapon and the idea that somehow if he can just beat you bad enough, some score might just be settled."
"I understand we have another ship on its way home," Knockout said, quite deliberately setting the conversation off in some new direction entirely, uncomfortable with the concern, because it still felt so strange to him at times just to mean a thing to anyone. And Ratchet nodded slowly.
"Mmhmm," he mumbled, nodding again. "A large population on this one too. Biggest one yet. Almost three thousand bots." He chuckled then, happily and shook his head once more. "Bulkhead will sure have his work cut out for him right along with his construction crews. The council has commissioned four new high rise housing buildings to be completed as priority projects... plus new buildings up in the commercial district soon. It's great news for us and the hospital though. This ship is bringing with it an entire small medical team."
"Oh?"
"Three trained, certified medics. Ten students... a forth frame youngling who might just die of spark break if he's passed over for medical training in a few short years."
Knockout nodded his head as He smiled just a little. And he hoped the expression appeared to be genuine. It was of course, or at least mostly so. The arrival of new bots back to their own home world was never a bad thing obviously. He was always just as happy for the refugees as anyone as. But just like every time a ship landed, he had his worries. Would the shipload bring ignorance? Angry bots that would scream insults at him for his limitations, his history, or both? Was the ship on its way filled with half way with bots in need of repairs, that would tie up the hospital while it tried to serve both them and the public already home and settled? And what of the medics on board? They would soon become his coworkers. He could only hope he'd have enough of their respect and trust to at least keep on working with any kind of efficiency at all.
"Well good evening," Arcee called out suddenly over the sound of the sliding medbay doors. And he crossed the room quickly as the doors slid shut again behind her. Cybershock trotted along beside her, her hand in her carrier's and her arm swinging happily.
"Well, if it isn't my two favourite bots!" Knockout exclaimed. And he grinned at the, both for just a second before he felt his spark suddenly drop a little, and his tank flip just slightly. With a nervous feeling quite unlike him, he questioned curiously, "Arcee, did something happen..."
"No, nothing happened," Arcee replied at once and firmly, with a good shaking of her head as she made her way quickly closer. "Well, nothing bad anyway. I took Cybershock to the playground for a while. She wanted to climb of course... and swing. We went to the sweet shop to get rust sticks because she's never had one, ever..." Arcee pulled a package from her storage compartment smiling happily while she explained that they had brought far too many back with them and they would happily share.
"Reactivating you weapons systems?" she questioned, looking closer. It was just as much an observation of course as it was a question. And Knockout gave a nod in reply, before he finally spoke again.
"Ratchet said tonight that he wanted to. I agreed to let him." He sat quiet again for just a moment, thinking. And he smiled just a little, as he added firmly. "I'm not sure I like the term 'weapons' though anymore. I'm not a combat class bot. I'm medical class. Using onboard medical gear to fight with and scare bots to death just seems completely not funny anymore..." He paused again, and just stared at his mate for a moment, anxiously. "You're okay with this?"
"More than okay with it," Arcee replied, seriously. "I'm relieved to think you might not be defenceless anymore."
"Too bad you couldn't come to the playground with us, Daddy," Cybershock said. And Knockout just barely managed to hold his arms out to catch his running youngling, the second Ratchet stepped away from him, finished.
"Next day I have away from here, I'll take you," he promised, smiling.
"You can push me on the swing," Cybershock decided. And she sat up on his lap, looking up and grinning, with a look that said the matter was without a doubt decided.
"I'm sorry Cybershock," Knockout answered, and he smiled at her again, though sadly now. "That's one thing I just can't do."
"You can't do it, because you've never tried to do it yet, Daddy," Cybershock said, matter of fact and still smiling, undeterred. Knockout looked around a little, to see Arcee standing close by and clearly dismayed. But she said nothing, allowing her mate and their daughter to interact, as she'd learned easily to let them. "I think if you just thought it over a while, and tried a few times until you got it right, you'd learn to do it Just like you've learned everything else!"
"Your carrier can push you on the swing," Knockout answered. And he smiled in assurance. "She's good at it."
"I know." the youngling said, still undeterred and still smiling. She went on looking up at him, her big blue optics staring intently. "But I want you to have a turn." She shifted her position then, leaning to rest her head on her creator's front panel, just as she'd always done since she'd been smaller. And for a second she just looked thoughtful. "I won't be little forever, ya know."
Knockout had only been to the playground a few times ever. Usually he left the job of taking their youngling there instead to his mate instead. Often she'd take her while he was working. And even when he was not at work, he'd just stay home and let them go off to play. But the youngling begged and pleaded with him to go along, so a few times he'd gone. As she got bigger she'd begged him more and more. So he went more often. Twice he'd even taken her by himself, because Cybershock had begged and pleaded while Arcee was busy.
It had never made a bit of sense to him, exactly why the little bot wanted him to go. He couldn't run like her carrier could. He couldn't chase her across the landing mats, or catch her at the bottom of the slide. He could simply park himself on his mobility cart close the edge of the playground structure and watch, calling out to her to please be careful, and only hoping she would listen. Twice they had run into other little bots - younglings who knew her from their early learning classroom. And he'd sit still watching while the little ones' creators pushed their creations on swings and helped to push Cybershock too.
"She wants you to push her, to see if you can," Arcee said, laughing as she walked closer. And she smiled, as understanding so clearly downed on him. The youngling, doing exactly what she had always just so naturally done best, was only pushing him to try a brand new skill, all without pushing him at all, and instead by just having fun and being silly. She wanted him to push her on swings one day soon, because he'd never tried to before. And she never tired any more than he did, of seeing just how much he could work out ways of doing.
"I'll do the best I can to figure this one out," Knockout promised, smiling at his youngling. "I'll give it my best try."
"Speaking of trying..." Ratchet said. "How'd you like to try standing up for a while?"
"Maybe you can beat your last best time at that, Daddy!" Cybershock exclaimed, encouraging as ever. And she turned then to the old medic with a grin across her face-plate explaining, "He pulled himself right to his feet last night on our patio. And he stood a while just looking out over the rail!" The little bot paused then, and laughed, a little too amused, before she added slowly, "he sat back down though in a minute 'cause Mama was scared he might fall over the railing."
"The balconies in that building were personally installed by Bulkhead," Ratchet chuckled. "I know those rails are never going anywhere." His look turned serious thouhg in a second and he turned toward Knockout, with dismay in his optics, and frowned. "Still... I'm not sure a tenth floor railing is the best place for rehab practice, and I surely don't need to explain why to a grown bot who should know better."
"I just..." Knockout stammered helplessly. And he could not help but feel ganged up on, both by his teammate and his own family – even if it was of course all in good spirits. "I wanted to fully appreciate the view of the street!"
"I think you might be ready to try taking steps tonight," Ratchet said thoughtfully. And Knockout for all of his laughing and goofing around, stopped at once and blinked his optics silently for a second.
"Steps?" he finally managed to question. "You.. you really think I could...?"
"I think now's a good a time as any to find out." Ratchet smiled a little, and already he'd hurried across the medbay, to rummage around in a storage room. Quickly he dragged out a folded walking frame, which he unfolded just as quickly to bring back across the room with him. "I'm pretty sure your family would love to see just how this might work out."
"Yay!" Cybershock cheered, just as loudly as ever for the medbay.
She climbed down from his lap in a single fast motion, and ran a short distance, stopping then to watch him, grinning. And Knockout sat watcing the youngling with worry growing steadily in his spark. His mate, he knew would only help him calmly, doing whatever she could, just like she always did. It was their youngling he worried about. Her excitement, hope and exception was more than obvious in the way she bounced on the fronts of her feet, while her arms swing back and forth beside her. He imagined just how badly she might be disappointed if he failed - which he feared he easily would at first. And he never had liked to see his youngling sad.
Regardless, Knockout was seemingly committed by now to trying. And with a quick intake to shake of his doubt, he reached out to grab the handlebars of the frame just as soon as Ratchet had parked it safely in front of where he sat, and Arcee had grabbed it from the front, just to hold it steady.
Getting to his feet was not entirely new to him, by then. And using the handlebars to do that much was much like doing so while holding onto anything else. The walking frame though, felt far less steady or stable than anything he'd ever used to hold his weight before. And instantly he feared he would fall, just trying it. But still he tried anyway, holding his balance when it felt like he would quickly lose it. After a moment, he stood where he was, leaning forward, holding the handlebars and steady on his feet, because he hadn't fallen yet and no longer felt he would. Arcee let go of the bars, because Ratchet told her to with a quick motion of his hand. And for a second Knockout felt again like he might just fall, because it all felt to unsteady again, without her weight holding the whole contraption straight. But again he found his balance quickly. And for a moment he just stood still, with a grin on his face-plate, that he was sure resembled that of his youngling.
"You'll want to bring your left foot forward first," Ratchet explained, with confidence. "Because the right is stronger, it will more easily follow. Arcee, hold the front bars again for a moment."
Knockout feared then more than ever that he would fall hard into the floor, as he tried to lift his foot. But he got over that quickly, when he realized he could barely recall exactly how to lift his foot in a walking motion at all. He remembered how it felt to do exactly that. He'd never forgotten exactly. He'd never forgotten the feeling of any single motion, even when he could not come close to making the motions anymore. But like so much else, when it came to his own body, just remember how it felt to do it, did not mean his processor knew how anymore. He thought though at once, of kicking a ball, because he'd relearned that already. And suddenly it all came together, because the movements were related. So he kicked his foot forward a little, lifting it just slightly and letting it land again on the floor, before he tried the very same with the other one.
"Try it again," Arcee said, still holding the frame steady in front of him. And he did the very same as before, repeating it again after that and repeating it again, until he'd taken a few small awkward steps across the medbay floor.
"That's soooo cool!" Cybershock exclaimed. And she ran across the floor at once, grabbing for her creator's arm, in one careless second, just as soon as he'd stopped again, tired and shaky from just a few short steps. Knockout lost his balance at once because of her weight pulling suddenly against him. And he fell forward onto his knees, managing to let go of the frame and catch himself with his hands before it ended up worse.
So many bots, he knew would have scolded the little one for that. And looking up, he saw that Arcee was indeed clearly about to. But he laughed at once, smiling a smile that made his mate pause in her tracks with a shake of her head. Knockout could not move to sitting from his knees – he had no come close enough to relearning the mechanics of that yet. And he couldn't stay kneeling because he was already falling forward badly just trying to hold his balance that way. So, with a loud laugh, and look on his face-plate that surely looked ridiculous, he simply let himself fall over. Then he rolled, as he'd learned early on, across the floor until he reached a position from which he could sit himself up again.
"I'm sorry," Cybershock said. And for a second a hint of a tiny coolant tear appeared in each of her blue optics, as she stepped toward him again carefully now. "I made you fall. I didn't mean to..."
"I know you didn't mean to," Knockout answered quickly. "It's alright." And he held out his hands at once, waiting just a second until she promptly clambered into his lap. Instantly her near tears turned to a smile again. And he understood how to her, his awkward way of rolling to sit just looked like silliness and play. He smiled brighter then. He held out a hand, and she instantly smacked his as intended in a firm 'high five.' Behind them Arcee just laughed.
Notes\ Yes, I know this chapter probably didn't make complete sense in parts. And also... loose ends! I'll tie those up. Promise. It'll all fit together just fine, if I do this right, lol. And as for the little green youngling bot, she's obviously going to become important as well, as you probably guessed by now. I have a plan here!