Notes/ Another chapter that's ended up all over the place emotionally, with things starting out all fluffy and wonderful, only to quickly go bad and then get even worse... but then really isn't that how life goes sometimes. I do suppose it's all reflective of reality. This is a longer chapter too!
I'm in no huge rush to start a new fanfiction project. Because of course this one is not half done yet. But I am kicking around a new plot regardless, because it won't leave me alone. And I wonder if anyone might be interested in such a thing when I do decide to get to it. I'd like to write an alternate universe TFP story in which the 'cons have won the war, and featuring a few controversial or strange pairings. I know it's been done... and done. But I've liked a few such stories because it is of course different. And I think I could put my own spin on it, just like I did with the old almost overdone defector plot. Feedback and opinions welcome on that idea.
I fully realize that the bots in this story are becoming a little less in character now, if that's the best way to put it. Soundwave speaking more and more... Knockout happily working as a youngling doctor, and actually very good with 'children.' Ratchet humming songs and laughing, showing he might actually have a sense of humor. With war behind them though, it only makes sense to me that they would all become different. So when I started writing them, I started to think... what could they become if they could be what they were meant to outside of all the fighting for their planet and their lives. Ratchet, for example has certainly always been a cranky old bot with limited patience... but he's always reminded me as well of someone's old grandfather, who loves telling stories of 'waaaay back in the day.'
Firestorm hummed to herself, smiling brightly as she unpacked things from a crate sitting open on the floor, and onto the built-in shelves that lined part of the wall of the small recharge room. A small stack of data pads went onto the bottom shelf, beside the music player. And a decent stack of data discs that played in that, sat nearly on the top. Then there were small photo frames – one that held a still image of herself as a youngling aside her brother in the dingy dull hallway of the ship that had been her youngling-hood home, and one of her creator and carrier, still somewhere on old Cybertron.
She picked up the second of the photo-frames, just as soon as she'd set it down carefully on the shelf. And just as carefully, she held it in her hands, just staring for a long moment at the image of the bots that had made her. She stopped her quiet humming then, and moved off her knees to sit a moment on the recharge room floor, smiling because to her, because of that one photo she had ever seen of them, they would to her to have been nothing short of happy.
"You have never displayed photo-frames before," said Soundwave, clearly surprised. He stood in the doorway of the recharge room. And Firestorm realized he was there at all, only after he had spoken to her. She saw the slight smile on his face-plate at once, and she smiled right back.
"It just never seemed right to for a while..." she said, trying to explain, and somehow feeling silly. "It does now..."
"Those are... your creators?" Soundwave asked, his tone curious as he kneeeled on the floor beside her. And he leaned forward to look closer at the image displayed in the frame.
"You look so much like them," he added, when she nodded in answer to his question.
And Firestorm just smiling, laughing a little because it certainly was true. She looked again at the bots in the photo-file – her creator, with his almost entirely white paint job highlighted here and there with bold stripes of bright yellow. And her carrier, with his yellow pale yellow paint, broken up on either side of his body by bands of bright white. Anybot could see in an instant of looking, just how she and her brother were so clearly a fair mix of them both.
"I wasn't the only one to look like them," she said, still smiling, as she reached for the photo-file frame still on the shelf, and realizing then that Soundwave had never actually seen an image before of her brother who she talked about so much.
"We might have easily passed for twins at times, if Windstorm had not been born two centuries before me," she said, smiling brighter then.
"I wish that I could show you an image of my carrier," Soundwave said, still kneeling on the floor. He smiled a tiny hint of a smile, bore that faded and he just shook his head a little. "I have never had a single photo-file of her. It is... doubtful a single one ever existed. Some bots that knew us used to say I looked just like her though... I have her colors."
Firestorm so clearly remembered the bot she had 'met' once in a dreamlike altered state of consciousness brought on by the cybermatter trials. And she smiled then, because she had never forgotten. Logic told her to assume it meant nothing at all. To assume that her greatest wish – to find her for her creation – had been represented through this vivid dream because her processor had the chance to play it out then. But still, hope had convinced her it could have meant far more, even if she had no idea at all, of what it all truly. And to hear now that that the colors she had seen might just have been real...
"Firestorm..." Soundwave said. And she slowly turned her head to look at him again, realizing only then that while he had been speaking to her for a moment already, she had been so distracted she hadn't heard a word he'd said.
"Are you alright?" he asked in clear concern, And Firestorm just nodded, smiling in his direction at once. She was going to tell him then that she really did believe his carrier was still alive somewhat, - that she believed she could find her – that she even had Ratchet almost open to helping her by then. But instead she said nothing, in case she was wrong in her confidence.
"Did you finish with the living room?" she questioned instead, standing up from the floor, as he stood up with her. And Soundwave just nodded, smiling for a second.
"Will you truly be happy in the place the council gave us?" he asked her though, a moment later. He looked around the recharge room, barely wide enough from one side to the other to fit their recharge station – and that itself slightly less than a standard full sized model. And his optics filled with concern.
"Of course I'll be happy here," Firestorm exclaimed. Her smile turned quickly to a grin. And she jumped slightly off her feet,flinging herself at him. This caused him to gave a small cry of surprise, as he caught her quickly before she could knock them both back onto the floor. But both bots laughed at once, stumbling a little toward the recharge station.
Any apartment on New Cybertron was small. But theirs was so small and cramped even by the new world standard – the living room was no bigger then the recharge room. A less than full size sofa had barely fit when they'd struggled, with help from a couple of the Autobots to force it in around the narrow doorway. And than the small table with just a couple of chairs had barely fit besides. The building was an old one too – a place salvaged for restoration from the wreckage of war instead of built in the post war construction boom. And she had loved the building from the moment they'd gone to see it, despite the known fact that so many bots – particularly younger ones it seemed – would surely have protested, appealing the council's assignment, even agreeing to a far longer wait on something less 'antiquated.' But Firestorm was not most others. And she'd been grinning, a smile clean across her face-plate, since she'd learned they had been selected for the old building.
"This building is... an ancient building," Soundwave said, his tone still clearly concerned. And he was clearly exaggerating just a little, because the building was not quite old enough to be called 'ancient,' even if it had been old already long before the end of the 'golden age.' His optics travelled to the grey dingy walls of the room, needing paint, and to the small barred window high on the far wall, covered by the old green curtains brought from the old recharge room on base, and that just didn't nearly seem to fit right anymore.
"It's a piece of old Cybertron," Firestorm cried, grinning. She stood, leaning against him, her head resting on his body armour for a moment, before she looked around the room again herself. "A little bit of history that just stayed standing! And we get to live here... just like bots lived here the first time the world was united and beautiful. And this is ours, Soundwave. It's really our home!"
"We can easily paint these walls," she said a second later, when she saw the worry had never left Soundwave's optics. And she grabbed him by the hand, to yank him playfully toward the furthest wall in her excitement. "The living room will need some too. And the entry way... and we can get new curtains from the marketplace, to fit this smaller window..." she waved toward the little window then, still grinning, before she almost leapt off the floor again to hug him.
"What about you?" she asked while he laughed a little, at her exuberance. "Will you be happy here?"
"Any place I live in now, will always be so many times more than anything I once dreamed I'd have have..." Soundwave said, serious as ever. He pulled her tight against his armour. And for a while he just held her like that, while she smiling, understanding his wards had not be intended to be sad, but... hopeful.
"I am simply concerned for you" he said then, after a moment, explaining his worried looks of moments before. "You should have a much nicer home... a bigger one, in the new housing divisions somewhere."
"But..." Firestorm said firmly. She took an excited step backwards, and stared up at him, just as soon as he slowly let her go again. "I want this one."
"Look at this wonderful view!" she cried, running at once to the window, and pulling open the too-long and overhanging curtains, so that she could look down... and down... and still further down. "Forty-second floor. We can see the whole city from here... the mountains... the sulphur field and the river! Soundwave, if I could just reach out far enough I could almost touch the sky!"
"You do truly love to be close to the sky," Soundwave observed. He smiled again, crossing the room quickly to double check a perch he'd mounted earlier to a side wall above the built-in shelves, for Laserbeak – who sat, at present on top of the highest shelf, whirring her excitement.
"Yes," Firestorm answered at once, because she hadn't changed her mind about that very same feeling in the least. "I want to be as high as I can ever go! I would touch the atmosphere and the edge of space if I could. And..." she paused then, her excitement rushing up through her spark. "I'm really going have a flying alt mode! You won't need to carry me forever!"
"I like to carry you, Firestorm," Soundwave answered, smiling for the moment he could at any one time. He hurried back to her again "You are not heavy... and I know it makes you happy."
"I know you like to," Firestorm said. And she smiled brighter again, stepping closer, and grabbing Soundwave's hands in hers again, swinging their hands back and forth together, laughing a little. "I might still let you at times, you know... at least until I take off ahead just to see if you can ever catch me."
"You will be a beautiful flyer, Firestorm," Soundwave answered, in a tone that made it clear he meant it.
"Thank you," the little white and yellow bot said, grinning bigger than before, even as her tank rolled horribly again. "And thank you for your support of me wanting to be."
"What else would make you happy?" Soundwave asked then. He smiled again, and led her backwards a few steps to the recharge station, where he pulled her down gently to sit beside him.
"Just those new curtains I mentioned already for that window," she said simply. " And perhaps a pretty cover for the sofa... a floor lamp or two..."
"There must be more than that..."
"Nope."
"Those things you have requested... they are all so simple...
"I'm a very simple sort of bot," Firestorm said, grinning. Her voice turned to mock seriousness then as she added slowly, "there is one more thing that would make me happy..."
"Oh?" Soundwave looked at her intently, interested.
"Hugs," Firestorm exclaimed, playful and laughing. "One or two everyday... maybe three... most of them from you of course!"
"I had best... practice then," Soundwave answered, laughing back as he hugged her at once.
"Well," replied Firestorm quickly, hugging him right back before the both let each other go again. "They say practice really does make perfect."
She watched, in a corner of her vision, as Laserbeak flew down from her place on top of the shelving. And still smiling, she extended an arm, easily catching the small flying bot, who chirped cheerfully and perched on her at once. Firestorm's optics went back to the curtains though in just another moment. And she shook her head, laughing a little in their direction.
"Those have got to go," she said, decidedly – because Soundwave had asked, in all seriousness for her honest opinions in the first place. "They just fit so... badly." Soundwave, to her amusement, shook his head with dismay of his own, while he too studied the window.
"Perhaps you would like to make a short trip out to the shops," he said. "I will finish this unpacking of the apartment while you are out, and take down those... ill-fitting window coverings..."
"I can't convince you to come with me?" Firestorm asked, grinning again, as she pulled playfully on one of his hands with the one not holding the bird. She was perfectly capable of a simple trip to the shops own her own, obviously. And she knew he would never willingly agree to brave the crowds without any notice. Still she asked him anyway, and was not at all surprised when he just shook his head.
"Take your time," he said, smiling a little for another short moment. "Perhaps one of your friends would like to meet with you today. And you may well find other things you'd like for this place too."
"I won't be long," Firestorm answered, certain as anything that a day out with any friends of hers was not what she wanted at all even half as much as hurrying back home to help him finish with their new home.
She wasn't in the mood for shopping at all- never had enjoyed it nearly as much as many bots seemed to. But they really did need the new curtains... and she realized by now they were short on wash station rags and towels. And she had no washing solvent left at all. So she sent Laserbeak flying off her outstretched arm again with a motion of her free hand. Smiled a fast good bye to Soundwave, and hurried out the door.
Stepping out into the hallways of the old apartment building officially known in the city by then as 'building one,' she realized for the first time, just how run down the place really was. The paint on the walls of the forty-second floor corridor, was peeling and chipped, and in some places the wear was bad enough that bare silvery wall showed in large patches. And those same walls – which had once clearly been a nice light blue - were stained in various colours in places, and contained a few decent sized holes. Still, Firestorm liked the old building no less, and she even smiled a little, considering the age of the place and the war it had survived along with the bots. Of course it would be run down, she reasoned, chuckling. She could hardly blame it.
The elevator had seen far better days too, of course – its door just as beat up stained and dented as the walls of the hallway were. And inside it was simple at best, drab white with a strange stale smell coming from somewhere in a corner. But its touch pad worked perfected and the elevator moved just a fast as any in the city. And it reached the twenty-third floor, to let others on, quickly.
"Well look at that," one bot – a dull pained black and green one - said to another, as a pair of them boarded the elevator. "It's your little glitch case from that sweet shop. And she certainly looks... functional by now."
Firestorm's attention was on them entirely at once. And her spark beat quickened with dread.
"Ha. So it is indeed," the other one answered back quickly. "You live in building one now then? Somewhere on the upper floors I can assume? You'll be a fine addition to this... neighbourhood of ours." And all at once he began to laugh.
Firestorm looked him over fast, the familiar red and white of his dented body work, causing her to cringe involuntarily. She forced herself to keep on looking his way however, well aware that to lower her gaze would only show dangerous weakness, and took a careful step back, putting distance between them in the small elevator.
"What's the matter, my little shop-bot?" the red and while fellow asked her, smirking. "We woulda had some real fun last time we met, if we hadn't been so rudely... interrupted."
His green and black buddy laughed hard. And Firestorm cringed again, praying at once that neither bot had seen her do it.
"That freak boyfriend of yours isn't here to come between us this time," the red and white bot chuckled horribly. And he stepped forward slowly, with a look of mock disbelief on his face-plate. "Guy's certainly got some anger issues..."
Firestorm's hand clenched into fists at that. And boldly she stepped toward the offending bot, with little thought for danger.
"Shut your mouth," she demanded recklessly, standing taller, trying hard to look just as big as she could for a small mini-bot. "Pit spawned, fragging pervert."
Both large bullies burst into laughter. And to Firestorm's immediate dread, the green and black one paused the further decent of the elevator with a touch of his hand on the controls.
"Soundwave, I'm almost afraid of," the red and white bot said though laughter. "That bot is certainly scary even after his... obvious... hmm... fall from so close to the top! But you... trying ta yell at me like a big bot... That's just... cute!"
"My friend here..." the black and green bot said, pointing toward his buddy and grinning sickly beside him. "He likes 'em just a little feisty... bots that ain't afraid to speak their minds. I think he could just love you... well as a plaything anyways."
"Ha, don't you worry, my friend," the red and white bot said to his green and black friend. "Yeah she's sure a decent catch, but I'm happy to let you play with her too."
Disgusted, and growing more uneasy by the second, Firestorm shoved desperately past the aggressive pair of bots larger than herself. And she reached at once for the controls mounted on wall, determined to get the elevator moving again, ride it down to the bottom floor, where she would get off fast. But unsurprisingly the red and white bot grabbed her arm at once, shoving her hard against the wall. And she cringed at once, not liking the placement of his other hand, far too close to her... pleasure equipment... at all. He pressed himself against her hard, and she was almost glad to find he smelled this time of sulphur, instead of strong high grade.
"I can treat you well, my little mini-bot," he mumbled into her audio receptor, while he hand rubbed against her sickeningly, and his friend just stood by, laughing. "I know your type, You think you love that boyfriend of yours... you think you wanna be with him forever. You prob'ly wanna be his bondmate... have a couple of his younglings... But you don't know what love is... who could love that piece of trash?"
"Get fragged..." Firestorm mumbled, her growing anger almost greater than any fear now. And the red and white brute just laughed loudly, his hand rubbing a questionable part of her body armour all the while, and a sick grin on his face-plate.
"Oh, I plan to do exactly that," he laughed, still close to her audio receptor. "I'm sure we'll both have a good time with that."
"No, thank you." Firestorm spoke just as firmly as she could manage, her optics narrowing at one on the offender, while she wiggled back, away from his roughly groping hand. And she gasped hard, in horrified shock not a second later, when his hand – the one not still groping all the while, held her by the neck and slammed her against the elevator wall hard enough to shake her body armour.
"Nobody says no to me," he barked. And his fist hit her face-plate, drawing energon from a crack he caused to it at once. "I don't do 'no', and you'll learn that right now You dare say no to me again, I swear I'll beat you to such a pile of scrap metal and bolts, you'll never be identified."
Firestorm, fighting back tears, felt her face-plate with her fingertips. But she realized somewhere in the back of her mind not a second later that she needn't have bothered to. The energon splatter that landed on on the floor made it clear just how badly she must have been bleeding from just a single hit.
"Soundwave is going to kill you," she said, threatening because she had no real way out of her situation in mind. It was not entirely just an idle threat however and she knew it.
"That is what he was always good at," the red and white bot snarled. And without any reason at all, he hit Firestorm hard again, across the front of her face-plate. She heard something shatter, and energon poured onto the front of her body armour. "Killing. That's what he was you know? A viscous mindless killer. All Cybertron knows it. Soundwave had no spark in the war that off-lined millions of our people And he's surely just as sparkless now. You sure you how to pick 'em, femme. And it almost makes you a trader to our world... one worth nothing more than what I've got in mind for you."
"Let me go," Firestorm said, almost begging now because it was clear that anger hadn't worked. She thought of punching him, and her hand formed a fist again. But the fear of a another hard hit forced her to stop at once. And she watched in horror as he opened his lowest front panel, exposing himself with a gloating smile on his horrid red face-plate.
"Not gonna happen, femme," he said, snarling. "I'm gonna have my fun. My friend there is gonna have his. Then you might just turn up one day, washed up on the banks on the Boiling River..." His hand pressed tight against her own panel, and other pressed dangerously hard on her neck. "Open your panel..."
Behind him, his friend just kept laughing.
"Help," Firestorm screamed then. And she knew it was hardly unreasonable that someone might just have head her, inside a huge apartment building. Besides there was sure to be a small growing crowd of bots by then, waiting on the floor closest to them for an elevator they surely assumed by then, must have jammed somewhere on its track. And she let those surely waiting bots hear her urgency and panic. "Help me!"
The red and while bot hit her again for her trouble, again in the face-plate, before he threw her roughly to the floor on her knees. Hit foot kicked her at least four times then, close to her closed spark chamber. And to her horror, his friend soon joined in, with much heavier feet.
Another kick, this time to the head, and Firestorm felt herself half way to falling unconscious. She was sure she screamed again, but she could not be certain exactly. More kicks followed. More hard punches to her body. More energon dripped onto the floor. Firestorm saw the glowing light blue of it a little too clearly as her vision clouded, and her tank flipped with pain. Something shiny glinted in front of her optics, now displaying urgent warnings from her processor, alerting her to imminent system shut down. One of the two attackers had pulled a blade...
"Hey!" the voice that yelled, suddenly and right out of nowhere, was different from the other two.
And looking up, through still clouding and spinning visuals, Firestorm barely managed to understand that the elevator doors were open now. High above her, right above the now open doors, a light showed a small number '1.' They had reached the ground floor.
"You two fellows want to explain yourselves, before I toss you both in the lockup?" the new voice continued. Ultra Magnus. Firestorm recognized the police bot now, through her fog. And she watched the haze of blue step closer, mixing with the hazes of red and green, and the hints of black and white.
"Sure do," the voice of the red and white bot said, absurdly. "This femme here... we... we waz just ridin' down with her already on, and she... she attacked us both right outta nowhere. No reason at all. We... we waz defending ourselves."
The other bot, of course just laughed again. His laughter however sounded terribly nervous now.
"That's a pile of scrap if I've ever heard one," Ultra Magnus answered, not wasting a second. "Both of you get your hands on that wall. Now!"
Firestorm knew he said more. She was sure the others did two. But their voices were all dissolving fast into nothing but noise. Her head pounded and everything spun faster. She was sure she must have purged her tank, as her vision went black...
Despite his original unease the place had brought him, Bulkhead was becoming very familiar with the hospital's youngling ward. And he sat in there now, in a too familiar too small chair, in a familiar room at the end of the corridor. He stared idly across the room, at the screen for the data disc player – on which was currently playing some random Earth documentary, hosted by a low voiced human narrator, all about complex social structures of 'carpenter ants.' Bulkhead chuckled a little, watching the strange creatures shown running about all over the screen, sure as at from what he remembered of such things on Earth, that ants were nowhere near as big as they seemed in that film.
"Bulk... head..." Switchblade – or by then known far more, though still informally, as Switchgear - mumbled slowly, from her position sprawled across his lap... exactly where she had dozed into recharge only a few minutes into watching that nature documentary.
"Hey Switch,'" Bulk' said, chuckling a little. He shifted slightly in the too small chair, trying to get comfortable. But even though she was awake again, he lacked all spark to make her move, because she looked strangely comfortable with her head somewhere under the height of his chest panel, one leg still over his knee, one dragging near the floor and her one arm neatly over the front of her small green frame. A recharging position that surely only a youngling would wake from, not groaning with the pain of kinked wires.
Bulkhead sat still then for a long moment, just watching the still nearly sleeping youngling – his youngling. It still felt strange to him, and he could barely believe it was true. But he had a youngling. It didn't matter to him that he hadn't created her himself. In his own processor and spark, she was just as much his as any youngling was to their own creators. And he'd had no hesitation at all in telling exactly that to various members of the council who had so clearly doubted a former wrecker 'built only for punching things' as they had so ignorantly put it, could possibly give a tiny damaged bot everything she needed in life. They argued that his life was bound to change in more ways then he could possibly imagine when he took on the role of parent to a youngling. And he'd said right back that change was not always a terrible thing. No one knew what to expect when they created newsparks of their own, when they chose to carry them to term and build their first frames. And he'd asked the bots of the council, how that lack of complete foresight made his own case any different when it came to this youngling he hadn't made himself, but loved as though he had.
He knew that many bots, and likely most of them in fact, would never really understand why he – unbonded and happy that way, a former wrecker, a veteran of war – would want to invent the next century of his life in a youngling, not actually his, fully by his own choice. Still a good handful of those same bots – his greatest of friends (nearly family in fact,) the bots he fought beside for centuries, were the first to cheer the loudest when they'd learned the council had finally signed off on Bulk's request to raise the tiny bot himself. Because those closest of his friends trusted him entirely to know what he truly wanted in his spark.
"I guess I fell in-ta recharge," Switchgear mumbled. And she moved now, sitting herself up on the much larger bot's lap, before she rolled her optics at him and laughed just a little. "I told you Cybershock's science discs would prob'ly be too boring..."
"I think I need to get us a few good action movies," Bulk' answered laughing just a little too. And he was impressed at once to see the youngling's face-plate light up with interest at mention of the films he enjoyed the most.
"Yeah," Switch' cheered quietly, before she shook her head with obvious disinterest at the disc currently playing.
"Miko will love you," Bulk' laughed, surprising himself with the sudden mention of 'his' human, right out of nowhere. And instantly the little youngling turned her head to look him in the optics.
"Will I really get to meet her some day?" she asked.
"Well sure," Bulkhead grinned. "I don't see why not. Earth is really just a space bridge away."
"Earth?" Switch' was truly excited now. And she bounced in her stand-in creator's lap, grinning brightly. "I'll get to see that strange organic world from your stories?"
"Yep," Bulk' just smiled back. "Someday." He paused a moment. And remembering how he'd seen other younglings seem to clearly enjoy such a thing, he hugged her tightly against him for a second and shook her a little, playfully. Sure enough she giggled loudly.
Her giggling stopped though suddenly. And she sat still again on Bulkhead's lap, watching the small clock on a wall above the wash station door across the room. Her remaining hand bent and unbent again a few times, before she began to tap her fingers against the chair's arm – something Bulkhead easily guessed could only have meant nerves and unease.
"Ya gettin' nervous about your repairs, little bot?" he asked, reaching around her easily, to hold her tiny hand in one of his huge ones.
"Yeah..." the youngling admitted at once. And she looked again at the small clock across the room. Not long at all to go now, Bulk' saw after a glance at the same clock himself. No wonder 'his' kid was getting so nervous then.
"It's a good thing though, remember?" Bulkhead said, smiling a little, and hoping for a little smile back from the uneasy youngling. "A brand new arm for you kid... And some new front body armour...
"Yep," the youngling said, smiling now and clearly excited right along with her anxiety. "I've waited so long..."
"That you certainly did. And today's the day."
"Yeah..."
"Hey, it's okay to be a bit nervous you know..."
The youngling just smiled a little then, still swinging her little legs back and forth in her seated position. She still looked uneasy. Any youngling bot and most adults certainly would have been by then. But it was clearly far less, and that was good to see.
"I'm glad the council gave me to you to take care of," she said thoughtfully.
"I am too," Bulkhead said back.
He would take her home very soon, to his home which was still barely ready for a youngling at all. And he'd show her the small recharge room, he had by now almost finished making for her, out of his large extra storage room. And she would have toys, and data pads filled with stories...and he would take her to the youngling centre, where she so badly wanted to go to learn and play with other younglings. She and Cybershock were fast becoming friends. That much was clear. And Bulk' chuckled to himself at once when he realized he of any bot was suddenly thinking of planned play dates.
"I just hope I'm good enough for the job," he said slowly, deciding it was best to be honest with her when he spoke of such serious things, so that she would learn easily to always be too. "I still don't know much about kids."
"That's okay, Bulk'" the little bot said, grinning for a second then. "You're learning fast so far."
"I'm sure I'll make some serious mistakes..."
"Things happen. Just... don't burn the building down."
"That's only a worry I think, little bot, if Wheeljack ever stops over," Bulkhead answered with a joking smile on his face-plate.
It seemed to him a little strange and worrisome for a just a second, to joke in any way about his home burning down, particularly given this youngling's still very recent damages caused by a fiery explosion inside her previous home. But she had joked about it first, showing him so clearly that she wanted to simply face it all and move on quickly. And his answer back just made her laugh, and shake her head a little.
Her laughter stopped abruptly though again, and this time it was clearly the sudden knock on the halfway open door of the room, that had made her stop laughing. Knockout rolled quickly into the room followed immediately by Bumblebee, who pushed a supply cart in front of him, filled with all manner of medical supplies.
"Well good morning, Little Bot?" Knockout said to the youngling, calm and smiling assurance all the while, as he rolled himself closer to her. Bumblebee, still standing behind the supply cart, smiled at her too. But he was obviously nervous, doubting himself, as it as known he still did, and more so still when working with younglings. "All ready to rock and roll?"
"Yeah..." the youngling said, quietly and looking down at the floor. But she sounded so doubtful. And no sooner had she answered than she added hesitantly, "...no. I...I duuno..."
"I'm just going to scan you quick, before I do anything else," Knockout explained. And Switchgear nodded, calmly enough. Because of course she knew as well as anyone that scanning was a simple thing that certainly didn't hurt. "Let's get you laying down flat on your recharge station for a minute." He spoke in that same tone he was known for so well by then with younglings – talking to her just like she was obviously more than mature enough to understand grown up tone and language - while he gestured easily toward the recharge station.
Bumblebee was more than happy enough to promptly scoop the little bot up from the floor not a second after she'd gotten to her feet. And he spun once, fast, with her in his his arms legs swinging outward, before he quickly dropped her giggling a little onto the recharge station she could easily get onto and off of by herself.
"Well, that certainly is odd," said Knockout, smiling a little and clearly joking around entirely, while he held the scanner down close to the tiny bot's feet. "I can't seem to locate any processor function... though it's clear the patient is obviously functional, because she is giggling and moving!"
Knockout held the scanner up again, in his slightly stronger right hand, and gave an over the top kind of shrug of his shoulders, before he proceeded to tap the scanner against the armrest of his cart, just as though question whether the thing may actually have been broken. He scanned her little green feet again, moving slowly up to the knees and back down, shrugged again, and looked at Bulkhead, pretended to be entirely baffled by his findings. He looked then toward 'Bee, who just shrugged, and made an all to silly show of looking helpless.
"Sorry," he said, shaking his head now, while Knockout discretely nodded his approval at the younger bot. "I'm just a med student..."
"Wrong end of my body," the youngling said, giggling at both of them. "You gotta scan my head!"
"Hmm..." Knockout mused, still joking around entirely, and far more than he'd ever seemed close to learning to do in times of war. "Well I suppose there could be some slight chance I could be doing this wrong..." He moved the scanner slowly over her small body, pausing again when he finally reached her head. Then he tipped his head sideways just a little, and carefully studied the scanner before he looked again at the tiny bot and smiled. "Ah. There it is!"
The youngling bot burst into laughter then. And now Bulkhead just sat, shaking his head a moment.
But the little bot's happy laughter, quite predictably, stopped at once when the medi-bot put the scanner away and immediately pulled out his medical kit instead, from the side bin of his cart.
Energon line equipment in particular was easy enough to spot and recognize among even bots with little or no real medical knowledge at all – probably because it was so extremely common and universal. And even the tiny youngling so clearly understood exactly what it was, when she saw the old bot pull it out of his kit.
"This is... the first bit I was nervous about," the youngling admitted slowly. And she began to squirm and wiggle in her still laying position, making it more than clear she wanted to promptly sit herself back up again, but was resisting the urge to do it because she knew full well she was supposed to stay laying.
"You wanna come sit up here again, Switch?" Bulk' gestured with his optics toward his knees. And shifted forward a little in his chair, ready to get to his feet at once, and pick the little bot up to hold her on his lap, just the way he'd done more than once before by then. "I doubt Knockout would mind, if you moved back over here." he looked for a second at his teammate. And of course he saw him nod a little in his direction. To his surprise though the youngling, after thinking for a moment or two, just shook her head.
"Thanks Bulk', but I think I'm okay," she said, her voice far more 'grown up' again. And a tiny, if not still clearly doubtful, smile appeared on her face-plate.
She was at some odd age for youngling bots. Perhaps close to halfway through her second frame years. And as she grew stronger and far more functional again, that was becoming far more clear with each day. Sure, it had always been simple enough, much earlier after she'd acquired damages, for the medics to keep her calm and happier by holding her in their arms. And Knockout of course, had been seen more than once rocking with her lightly on his cart, like he might have with a much smaller child. But such things as that only worked so well, and had not openly offended her, because she was so badly damaged. And even when her state was bad enough that that could keep her calm and make her smile just a little, she could still talk in a close to grown up tone, easily able to make herself well understood. And she always had.
"Is this going hurt much more than energon testing?" the youngling bot questioned, her tone a mix of a bot that just wanted to know and be sure, and a small youngling that badly feared the answer. She closed her optics for a second, and her frame cringed visibly, as she appeared to consider the worst.
"It more than likely will," Knockout answered, honestly. "But certainly not for very long if you just hold as still as you can, so I can be quick about this, for you."
"We've done this before," he added in under a second. And he smiled a little, in obvious assurance, while he unwound the end of a thin coiled tube, working the best of could from his seated position on his cart, and reaching over a work table. "You might not remember much though..."
"I don't remember that..." the youngling said. Her voice was shaking now with nervousness. And she stared, wide optic'd, at the equipment in Knockout's hand, when perhaps it would have been easier on her not to.
"This was so soon after you came here." Knockout explained, smiling assurance again. He finished his fussing around with the coiled tube and rolled closer to her again. "You were nearly recharging then."
"I'm sorry for what my creator did to you..." the little bot told the medic suddenly. And when Knockout just looked at her for a second, clearly unsure what exactly she meant, the youngling quickly explained. "I remember, I saw him kick you until you fell down on the street downtown. He didn't need to do that. He doesn't need to be beating on anyone, 'specially not a medic."
"Never be sorry for something your creator did," Knockout answered her quickly. He smiled again, reaching over her small body from his seated position on his cart, and pausing to unfasten his own seat belt, in order to do so, so he could hold her tiny arm with his slightly weaker hand. "It was never your fault he did any of the things he did. And I wasn't hurt, just... mostly shocked and offended."
"He's not nearly that... easily damaged," Bulkhead added, standing up from his too-small chair. He was close beside the tiny bot's recharge station in a couple of long steps and a small fraction of a second. And without another word, he held out his hand to the youngling.
"Th... thanks Bulk,'" Switchgear said, her own tiny hand reaching back at once.
"Relax, little bot," Bulkhead said calmly. And he squeezed her tiny hand just a bit. "This should only take a second or two."
He watched her close her optics then. And he had to admit he certainly did see the sense in that – many bots it seemed did the very same thing in similar circumstances. But his spark dropped hard when he felt her frame stiffen, her hand still held by his, the second Knockout began working.
"You're okay, little bot," he said, unsure what to do entirely in his inexperience with youngling bots, and simply trying his best because it had always worked so far. But to his dismay her tiny frame seemed to stiffen far worse still in what was clearly panic by then. And he felt just how much he wanted to pick her up and hug her.
She moved then slightly, just enough to try to snatch her arm away from the medic – though it was easy to guess she certainly didn't mean to. And Knockout, understanding still clear on his face-plate, just moved a little so that he could gently stop her.
"No one is ever trying to hurt you," he said slowly, still clearly trying to work just as quickly as he could, and having slight trouble in doing so because of the youngling's strange panic. "Remember? I told you that once. And... there we go. All done."
Knockout rolled backwards then, one hand on his hand control, and the other held out, to show the little bot that he had no tools in his hands that could possibly be used to cause her any more pain. And with her optics open now again, she just smiled, a shaky little smile, as she slowly sat herself up on her recharge station.
"Bulk'" she said, her tone both surprising small and shaky as she spoke. "That hurt worse than I thought..."
"I know," Bulkhead answered back, because her rigid stiffness had made that obvious to him already. He was going to add more, to simply assure her the best way he could – despite the feeling he had that he was still no good with that kind of thing at all. But she turned her head then a little, looking up at him again. And just as soon as she did, he could see so clearly that her optics were brimming with coolant tears. He looked at her tear-filled optics, and to his dismay saw them both fill at once with what looked like dread and despair.
Instantly, and of course careful not to bump the energon line now just as well as her near destroyed arm still wrapped tight against her frame, he lifted her up quickly as he could into his arms, holding her just as tightly as he'd wished he could have seconds ago, dismayed when she gave one loud sobbing cry against his armour
"Hey, don't cry, Switch," he said, sitting back down in his chair, and sitting her up at once on his knees.
"I'm sorry," Switchgear cried. Her hand went at once to her optics. And with a look of something close to anger at herself, she wiped hard at the tears with the back of her hand, while still more fell. "I'm sorry, Bulkhead. I'm sorry. I'll try to stop..."
Bulkhead's spark dropped for a moment then in despair of his own, because he realized at once he had no idea what to do, or why the little bot was so sorry to begin with. He pulled her tiny body tighter against his much larger one again, and for a second he just sat like that, thinking, while her body trembled with unwanted cries she clearly couldn't stop.
"Do you really think I won't want you anymore just for crying a few little tears, Switch?" he asked her slowly, once he was sure he'd worked it out himself. And just as soon as he had indeed understood that much, his spark dropped further.
"Scr.. Scrapheap s... said if I... if I cry too much no.. no one will ever love me," the youngling said then, explaining through tears, which she wiped at again and now far too roughly. "Th.. that I'll always just b... be the garbage left to b... be thrown away."
Bulkhead was an Autobot. He believed in second – possibly even third - chances for anyone. He believed that anyone had the potential for goodness in anybot – and he'd seen enough bots make good on that belief in them, to convince him he was right to believe it. Still, in that second, for all of his understanding he knew he could easily hate this bot named Scrapheap. He cringed just a little, with his arms still held protectively around 'his' youngling, while he reflected a brief moment on how lucky he thought that bot was that Soundwave, and not himself, had been the one he'd run into once already.
"I don't like to see you crying, Switch, because it makes me sad to see you so upset," he explained slowly. And he held her just as tightly just to show her for sure that his intent was to do anything but simply throw her away. "But a good cry now and then, that's hardly a crime."
"Please don't think I'm a big stupid cry-baby," Switchgear said in reply, her voice almost begging with the obvious despair of a youngling, who just wanted to be loved.
"Never gotta happen," Bulkhead promised, through his own uncertainty. And when the tiny bot on his lap gave a hint of a smile in response to his words, he smiled right back.
"Thanks Bulk'" the little bot answered back, with her tears quickly drying now in little coolant streaks down her face-plate. Her smile grew brighter, and she kicked her little feet idly as they hung over the much larger bot's knees.
"Arcee told me yesterday we're gonna need a few good house rules," Bulkhead said, smiling with greater confidence now at 'his' youngling. "And the very first rule is going to be... no one is ever a 'big stupid cry baby'"
"I like rule one, Bulk.." the youngling answered. But her head dropped forward a little as she spoke, and though she could lift it easily again and did, she was clearly sleepy then. Bulkhead just chuckled a little, because he had just watched a moment before as Knockout injected medication into her energon line – even though the youngling herself had clearly not noticed.
"I don't... I don't feel well..." Switchgear mumbled, reacting in more than obvious panic at her sudden urgent dropping toward pre-power-down recharge.
"You're fine little bot," Bulkhead answered, shockingly sad at her sudden panic. And without anyone even needing to advise he do so, he shifted her a little in his arms, tilting her back a little so she couldn't fall. And immediately her head dropped to rest against his armour. "You're fine. You just go to recharge if you want to."
"Bumblebee is going to take you to Ratchet, waiting for you in the medbay, in a moment," Knockout told the little one, who trembled just the slightest bit because she certainly couldn't help herself. But still, she nodded understanding, looking up for just a second with mostly dim and closed optics, before her head dropped to rest again.
Bulkhead let go of the tiny frame now slumped against him motionless, when 'Bee took her from him gently. But the reluctance with which he let go of her surprised him. And as he watched his black and yellow teammate hurry from the room with the tiny green youngling in his arms, he could see easily that although she wasn't moving she was certainly still awake – if not barely so. Bulkhead heard her mumble something then, about 'Bee's 'pretty' 'shiny' paint, and about how she was calmer now. And he sat in his almost too small chair, just shaking his head, chuckling, before he looked, suddenly overwhelmed down toward the shiny white floor.
"Welcome to creator-hood my friend," said Knockout. And Bulk' looked up after a long moment, surprised to see him still in the room, just sitting on his cart with understanding on his face-plate. "I want to tell you it might get easier to just let them go eventually, but it just doesn't seem to work that way..."
"I just..." Bulkhead had never been a bot with a great way with with words. And he shrugged half helplessly, trying to decide what to say, while he pushed himself up from the chair. Walking toward the small window, he looked out over the courtyard and shrugged again. "I can't believe how much I really do love that little bot. I'm sure it's not quite like you with your little Cybershock, because I didn't actually make her. Still... Switch' is my kid now. Still sounds weird to say that. But I love her all the same. I wanna give her everything, just to see her happy. I wanna tell her she can be anything she wants to be on this second chance world we've got... stomp the life force out of any bot that tells her otherwise..."
"It doesn't matter that your didn't make her, as you put it, Bulk'" Knockout answered, smiling, clearly lost in thoughts of his own. "You didn't make her spark, didn't give her CNA... but you'll make her future. And seeing you with her this past while... before you even made it known how much you wanted to step in for her... I'm not the least bit convinced that CNA is what really makes a creator."
"I only hope I can keep up with her," Bulk said, chuckling a little, though no less doubtful about exactly that. "I may not be an old bot, but I'm not so young either. Even damaged and down one arm and hand, Switch' can almost tire me out. Primus help me when she's fully recovered..." He gave a small laugh and shook his head, still looking out the window. "And I thought sometimes it was hard just taking care of Miko..."
"You've still got it easy, Bulk,'" Knockout said, suddenly laughing loudly and shaking his head. "My Cybershock loves to ask me to push her on swings. Seriously. How am I possibly..." he gestured with his optics toward the machine he sat in, with his hand still on it's hand control, and for a second he just looked almost amused. In just a second though his face-plate turned serious and he rolled forward a very short distance. "Our younglings though... they only ever ask that we always do our best, that we listen... and that we love them."
"That's all Switch' ever really wanted... ta be loved. I get sad thinkin' about it every time. But the poor little thing just wants somebot who'll love her just for bein' her." In what seemed like oddly perfect timing, a young bot – a refugee likely, judging by his lack of any clear symbols on his painted and just the general look of him – walked slowly across the edge of the courtyard with a youngling of his own in tow. And the two of them chattered on with smiles on their face-plates, until the bot scooped the tiny youngling up into his arms, spinning him around, at least three times until they both appeared dizzy. And Bulkhead stood watching them for a second, chuckling with a smile on his face-plate again.
"You all ready to take that little one home with you soon?" Knockout questioned. "She's on track for discharge within days now... assuming all goes to plan of course."
"I'm ready," said Bulkhead, doubtful and smiling confidence all at once. "Err... at least I think I am. Wheeljack and Smokescreen were over last night. They both laughed at me 'cause my place is full of toys and data pads now..."
"Bulkhead, let me give you some advice – don't ever let anyone tell you you can't do it. That you just aren't good enough because ten bots might well seem like they'd be better than you are at caring for a youngling. Any child is a gift to your new world, and they will always love you more than anyone just for trying your best."
"That sounds like pretty good advice..."
"Ha," Knockout said, nodding. "I can't take all the credit for it though I must admit. That was something Ratchet said to me once, when Cybershock first came along... when I wondered what in the name of Primus I'd gotten myself into. Of course I feared on so many levels that tiny girl was doomed with me as her creator. I quickly learned that he was right though, and yeah it is very good advice."
Knockout smacked Bulkhead then, across the backs of his shoulder panels, making him finally turn away from the window. And despite the fact that he was usually to one to be smacked like that and not the one doing the smacking, he managed to hit just as hard as any other bot, and showed his strength in doing so.
"let's go and get some energon," he said, already rolling toward the door. "If you are anything like any other of the carriers and creators sitting on the ward, and I know you are, you haven't had any today at all, just waiting with your worried youngling."
"You aren't going to work with Ratchet and 'Bee on Switchbla... Switchgear's repairs?" Bulkhead asked because he had assumed that would be the case. But Knockout instead just shook his head.
"Too delicate of work," he said. "I'm not exactly qualified for surgeries anymore."
Bulkhead was about to comment back, as he turned away from the window to face his friend and teammate. But he questioned in his own processor what exactly he should say on a world where bots still looked shocked at hearing any comments about limitations to a 'broken' bot. And all at once, he feared his question, though asked innocently enough without him really thinking, had truly been stupid. Knockout however just laughed a little, and he was smiling calmly by the time Bulkhead had finished slowly turning around.
"It doesn't bother me anymore these days," he said seriously. "I love the work I'm doing now. I would never have guessed once that working with younglings would be my true calling... I once heard that all things that happen, happen for big reasons..."
"Speaking of younglings," Bulkhead said, grinning by now as both bots left the room, and headed out into the main corridor of the ward. "Rumour has it you and Arcee are trying for a second child of your own."
"Those rumours would indeed be true," Knockout answered, grinning right back.
But a loud bleep from his comm-link made him pause at once to listen. And Bulkhead stood a moment just listening, as the medic, still seated on his machine, talked in serious tones with an unknown someone someone on the other end.
"I'm terribly sorry," Knockout said, after he'd cut his comm-link again. He was visibly angry now, and Bulkhead stepped toward him, ready to help in an instant, because he knew at once that something had clearly happened. But Knockout just held up a hand, and calmed himself at once with a firm intake, before he shook his head again.
"Stay here and wait for your little one," he said. "I don't know much yet... that was Soundwave. We've got an emergency. I can only imagine the team will later be briefed..."
"Firestorm..." Soundwave said, uncertain and shaky to the small bot he carried in his arms, running fast out of the elevator as soon as it reached the forty-second floor. His optics caught a glimpse of the energon smeared over the wall to his left as he turned to run out. And he cringed then with shock and anger, before simply moving faster. "Firestorm... can you hear me?"
She'd been awake, or at least partly so, when he'd left ground level with her, optics just barely open and trying to talk to him a bit – even if it was just inaudible mumbling. But she'd stopped speaking, and let her optics shut completely perhaps halfway back up to their floor.
Leaving the elevator quickly, he was about halfway to the door of his own unit 4214 – clear at the other end of the hall, when a door slid open beside him. Somebot, a refugee with his light blue paint chipped and faded stepped out of the apartment – an adolescent youngling right behind him.
"Please," said Soundwave, urgently and looking down at the bot in his arms. "Help us..."
It was not like him at all to speak to a stranger. And he could not recall a single time in centuries that he'd done so for any reason at all. But he was barely thinking now of his own discomfort in trying, because he did truly need help, and it wasn't about himself anymore.
"Get away from us," the refugee growled. And immediately he glared at Soundwave, with utter disgust and horror in his optics, while he moved to step around him fast.
The youngling though stepped forward, however hesitantly, and for a second his optics looked over Firestorm, still held motionless in Soundwave's arm.
"Stay back," the blue bot, told the youngling – presumably his creation. And he yanked him urgently by an arm, to stand behind him at once. In under a second he was hurrying away down the corridor, the disgusted glare still planted on his face-plate, and the younger bot following slowly, glancing back repeatedly with a look of regret.
"He's nothing but a filthy 'con," the blue refugee muttered, loud enough for Soundwave to hear him, and clearly on purpose. "I don't that little mini-bot is but she can't be anything better than he is."
"That sick fragger beat that femme senseless and new he think he can cover it up by calling for help," Another bot said somewhere close by. And Soundwave, to his dismay, realized only then that another door had opened, revealing another bot, who conserved with the first one.
"If it's gotten this bad, he's done it before," the first bot said. And Soundwave running froward again, stumbling toward his own door, shaking with his horror and rage, saw both of them now pointing at him accusingly. "And she obviously didn't leave him then, before he clearly nearly killed her."
"Lost cause," the second bot muttered, shaking his head, stepping back inside his doorway. "Too bad we still have so few females to lose."
"Please," Soundwave begged, fighting back the tears of rage that formed in his optics. He moved closer to his door and looked back as he did. "I only need someone to wait for the medic... show him to our unit..."
"I should kill you, 'con," the the blue refugee said in reply to his pleading. The youngling stepped forward again, his face-plate a show of understanding. But his creator just yanked him roughly back again, protecting him from some danger he'd imagined only in his mind. "I might just come deal with you later... rip your spark out for hurting her..." He retreated fast then, with the youngling behind him. And Soundwave was once again alone.
"Pardon me..." he said, when the door beside his own slid open as he reached it. "Can... you help us?"
A young bot stepped out. Clearly an adult but still very young. Painted green, and busy talking on his comm-link. Soundwave watched the young bot as he reached up to pause his call, and for a moment the refugee just studied him, in clear uncertainty, before his optics travelled down to Firestorm.
"S...sorry..." the refugee said quickly, stumbling over both his words and his feet, as he crept past and out into the hallway. "I... I.. dunno wh... what happened, but I... I don't wanna get involved..." He was gone before Soundwave could even find the words to protest.
"Soun'... wave..." Firestorm mumbled then, regaining partial consciousness, as Soundwave shoved open his apartment door on its track, hurrying inside, nearly tripping over a half unpacked create inside the doorway. He ran to the recharge room, down the narrow hallway, and layed her carefully down on the recharge station.
"You are... safe now..." he said slowly. "You are... home..."
She lay still just blinking at him with clouded optics, and he blinked back, wondering then exactly what he could and should possibly do for her, now that he'd gotten her that far. Her face-plate was damaged. That much was clear at only a glance. Its right side was cracked badly, and the left was soaked with energon. And it was easy to guess it might just be shattered entirely underneath that horrible oil stained bluish bleeding mess. Her frame was dented horribly. And close to her mid section on one side, armour had been torn away from another horrible crack he knew was caused by a large bot's heavy foot against it.
"I have comm'd Knockout," Soundwave explained, leaving her just long enough to grab a rag from the wash station across the hall and soak it wet before he ran back, stood beside her and just stared down at her, horrified. "He will know what to do..."
Firestorm said nothing. And instead just lay shaking, while Soundwave, unsure what else he could do began gently cleaning her up with the washrag. Her interface panel was closed tightly, and free of scuffs and scratches. Soundwave saw that clearly when he dared to look after a moment. And he sighed with relief, suddenly hopeful that perhaps the bots in the elevator had, once again been caught before they'd managed to violate her. Still, even spared from that, she shook and trembled harder still, clearly in shock from the beating the pair had been able to inflict. And Soundwave forced back his rage then, trying his best to be gentle in his work, while he imagined he may just kill them regardless of how far they had or hadn't gone.
"I should have gone with you when you asked me to," he said. The tears he'd fought back in the hallway fell now, but it didn't matter anymore. He sat down lightly on the edge of their recharge station, crying harder than he knew he had ever before, while he went on gently wiping at her face-plate, horrified at the energon that flowed out to replace what he'd just cleaned, the instant he did so. And Firestorm just lay still as ever shaking badly. And once in a while her optics slowly blinked.
"Soundwave!" Someone shouted somewhere outside the apartment. And through a cloud of his own terror and despair, he vaguely recognized the voice as Knockout's, and he was shouting urgently.
"Door – unlocked," Soundwave called back, his speech reverting to formal shorthand in his panicked state. His attention drifted away from him again though at once. And he was aware that anyone had entered the place at all, only after the medical student Knockout had brought with him, rested a hand on his shoulder panel, clearly because no one had ever told him he shouldn't do so.
Soundwave jumped to awareness again, at he hesitant hand that had lightly grabbed him. And he pulled himself up shakily, from where he'd come to rest for a second, crying hard, leaning over Firestorm's beaten frame. And he just sat back, leaning awkwardly against the recharge station's headboard with his feet resting on the floor, deciding he would never leave her unless he was told to, which he wasn't.
"Firestorm," he watched and heard Knockout say firmly to the injured bot. He quickly powered up the scanner the student – a clearly uncertain, hesitant and shaky young bot himself – handed him from a medkit. "You're alright. I need you to try to stop shaking like that, okay. Nice slow intakes. I'm just going to scan you."
Firestorm visibly pulled in an intake of breath too sharply at first. But the next one was slower, closer to steady and even. Her terrible violent shaking slowly settled to a lighter steady tremble, and she still just kept slowly blinking, silently and still.
"Starsong," Knockout ordered the young student, gesturing to the medkit he'd placed on the end of the recharge station. "I need a bottle of cleaner fluid ready... and a mid range dose of pain medication... the little green bottle in the far left hand compartment... she's partly in system shock, but I know she's still feeling something."
"Head in the game, kid," he half snapped at the student, when a second later he still stood in one place, just staring down with disbelief clear on his face-plate.
"I'm... s... sorry," the medical student stammered in reply. And he hurried to fetch the things asked of him from the bag. "Firestorm was... my shipmate. Windstorm... her brother... was my friend."
"Ple...help'mee," Firestorm mumbled then, the first she'd spoken in long moments. Though it was unclear exactly who she was speaking to at all, or even if that mattered much. Her frame trembled steadily as ever, and her optics began to focus just a little, before she blinked again and her optics clouded. And the small mini-bot, who hadn't moved since Soundwave had put her down on the recharge station, moved just a little then, pulling her arm back weakly as Knockout injected medication into her body.
"He is... trying to help you..." Soundwave said slowly, more than well aware of coolant tears still covering his face-plate, but helpless to stop them anyway.
He watched his teammate spray cleaner fluid onto Firestorm's face-plate, saw her blink her optics harder with obvious pain, saw them both fill up with tears that never fell. But she was still close to motionless, and silent as he worked. Soundwave reached out then, gently holding her hands in his, determined to give her comfort although she hadn't asked him to. And he felt relief fill his spark when her right hand squeezed his just a little, though it still trembled steadily right along with the rest of her body. He lifted her hands a little, shifting her body just slightly, to help his teammate just as much as he could, while he worked carefully, pressing his hands lightly against both sides of Firestorm's frame, obviously looking for any hidden damages beneath the pale yellow body armour.
Soundwave cringed horribly when he heard something audibly crunch a little under firestorm left body panel, despite just how lightly Knockout had touched the armour there. And in the corner of his vision, he saw the young student, Starsong, cringe too. Firestorm just stayed still as ever silent in her state of shock. There were a few more tears then though, forming in her blue optics. And these slid down her face-plate, mixing at once with the energon and oil that had never stopped flowing.
He wanted to run then, just about as much as he'd first decided he would stay unless forced not to. His processor screamed at him to slip down from the recharge station quickly, and hurry to the living room, where he could pace across the floor, perhaps tune out her impending cries any way he could, and ask her to forgive him long after the fact.
But he remembered how he'd turned and run from her on the day it looked like the cybermatter trial was going to fail. His processor was instantly filled again with the sound of her nearly forgotten terrified cries, screamed mindlessly over the sound of monitor alarms. And he recalled the look on her face-plate when he'd spoken to her later – the near crushed disappointed look he knew she tried to hide, while she told him at least three times that she understood. Soundwave shoved the memory away, only for it to be replaced at once by a new memory instead. And this time he recalled standing in the medbay, Firestorm injured shocked and frantic – the aftermath of a downtown explosion that should never have happened - begging him wordlessly with her optics not to leave her. He hadn't left her then... hadn't turned and run not matter that he;d wanted to. And for a second, he assured himself now in his own mind that that made everything okay. But his own self assurance was met then with a memory of how he'd only stood, silent and frozen, where his only instruction had been 'keep talking.'
He couldn't leave her now. He couldn't fail and he wouldn't. So instead, with a slow intake and some great determination to trust himself, he just leaned forward again his full attention on her and his optics never leaving hers. And he tried hard to hold her attention just as well as he could, while he medic turned his attention again back to her busted face-plate, which was bleeding energon just as much as ever and perhaps even worse.
"I think we can all be thankful, Ultra Magnus was waiting for the elevator when he was," Knockout muttered as he worked. And Soundwave could not miss the satisfaction in his voice. "Those two fools that did this obviously had no idea the head of the police force lives in this building as well. He told me when I got here, he'd only thought the fragging elevator was on the fritz, until he heard some poor bot screaming for life inside it somewhere up the cables..." he shook his head for just a second while he worked. "That pair is going away to lock up for a very long time..."
Knockout was angry. Soundwave could hear it in his voice, right along with that clear want for justice. And Soundwave was not exactly surprised at this anger from him – enough near rage, it seemed, to nearly match his own. Knockout cared for Firestorm just like the baby sister he'd never got to have. He'd never been a truly violent sort of bot. Even among Decepticons and fully functional, he'd been more ridiculously mouthy and empty threats than anything else – though he'd never been above knocking many an unsuspecting trooper to the floor with a heavy swipe of his energon rod, because he was frustrated and they were simply in his way. But Soundwave knew this was different. And had his fellow defector still been fully functional, there was little doubt left that he'd kill both of those offending bots if only Soundwave somehow missed their sparks.
"A very long time," Soundwave said, repeating the words of his teammate slowly while his optics stayed on Firestorm's. "Firestorm... you are safe from them now..."
She looked at him, still almost blankly. And her optics blinked again with the same pain and shock and terror. But she focused just a little more, her head turning just the tiniest bit, making it clear she really was listening, understanding. Something flashed across her optics than that might have been relief at the mention of safety. And she sighed a little, intaking again while her frame just went on trembling. After just a moment of that though, her optics filled again with tears. And she looked up at Soundwave, terrified.
"Wh... why'does eva-un wanna... hur'mee?" she asked helplessly, speaking a full coherent sentence for the first time, and having such obvious trouble with speaking at all because of the damage to her face-plate. "Wha'did I'do?"
Soundwave watched her then, silent and trying hard to find words when he ad no idea what he even wished to say. Firestorm, he understood sadly, had suffered so much since landing on their world. Most bots to arrive had built their lives, had quickly become so happy even among the rubble of war. And she had built her own life too right along with them. And she was happier than most by her very nature. Still – she'd lost her brother who had raised her, been injured badly in that small explosion, faced judgment and misunderstanding for her damaged processor, and been assaulted by the same bots twice – and all this in a handful of years. Soundwave just shook his head a little, fighting back new tears of his own, angry at the great unfairness of it all.
"Not everyone wants to hurt you, Firestorm," he said, determined to speak to her when it was so clear in her pleading optics that she wanted him to talk to her, and refusing with greater passion now, to fail her where he knew he had before. "I don't want to hurt you. You know I would never... Knockout certainly doesn't..."
"I think we had best power her down," Knockout said, speaking mostly to his student it seemed by the direction in which he was looking. But Firestorm of course heard him too. And she tried to shake her head a little, clearly liking the idea of forced power down no more than most bots ever did.
"I need to do a little work on your face-plate before we even get moving," Knockout said quickly, talking directly to her this time, because she was clearly listening to him. "Main line on the left side is hanging by carbon fibres. It can be properly repaired when we get you to the hospital. But right now I can't leave it just bleeding like this."
"I... I dun'need to go to da hospital," Firestorm mumbled, far more shaky again, quiet and staring off at nothing.
"You definitely do," Knockout answered, firmly. "Your face-plate is cracked broken. It'll take some real work to fix it for you. Your fuel tank is cracked. I want to run a spark scan. And you need nanites and probably an energon transfusion."
Firestorm was silent again. And still. Just laying where she was, on the recharge station, pain and shock and terror clear as ever on her smashed face-plate. And she blinked her optics slowly, giving up and giving in as she was powered down.