Notes/ Thanks for the comments on the last chapter I posted. I honestly wasn't exactly such strong reactions. I truly do hope I didn't actually offend anyone however. Someone mentioned fall out in this next one... one yes. And here you have it. I'm glad to hear there are so many Soundwave/Firestorm supporters too, considering Firestorm is simply one of my Ocs. Obviously I've always been glad she's well liked, because she's one of my own characters. In any case, to you, I say... as always I have a plan and there is a method to my madness.
Firestorm sat on a familiar padded chair in the familiar waiting area outside Ratchet's office. It was the first time she'd ventured out in... she thought about it, wondering just how long it had been, and decided it had clearly been too long. She shook her head then, sadly, before she forced back her tears, more just like those that still threatened without warning at least once a day and usually more, and decided she'd had about enough of crying.
The door slid open, while she was barely paying attention to it at all, and she found herself looking across the hallway at a familiar old bot who she was so shockingly relieved to see.
"Ratchet" she cried, standing up from her chair at once, to follow him into the small office, as he gestured with his hand for her to do so.
Instead of seating himself immediately behind his desk as the door slid shut behind them, Ratchet reached out to pull Firestorm against the front of his frame. And for a long moment he just stood that way, hugging her tightly in the middle of his office.
"I... guess you've been informed..." Firestorm said, grateful and sad, overwhelmed and suddenly hopeful at all once, just as soon as he let her go again. She watched him finally take his chair, and she took one for herself in front of his large desk.
"Ambulon told me everything," the old medic answered, serious so clearly sad himself. "Well, as much as he could without it all being a direct violation of the confidentiality between you and himself..."
"He said he wanted to... I told him it was okay if he did..."
"I understand you got kept the apartment. I'm... sorry if that might none of some old bot's business"
"I did. Soundwave told me I should keep the place without me ever even asking. He... knew how much I always loved the place... even when he always questioned how it could truly have been the one I wanted..."
"Your paint shop has been closed for days it seems. I got back a few hours ago to a couple of students casually discussing their disappointment at being unable to get those graphics that were becoming so popular..."
Firestorm knew she should open up shop again. The place was her livelihood. And she needed a reliable living more now then ever before. She was good at what she did, and in the years she'd done it, she'd managed to build a good customer base. She enjoyed the work. And usually she never seemed to tire of commissions and the colourful graphic designs that bots requested for their body panels on a daily basis. But she had barely been able to drag herself out of her recharge station and into the wash station to keep on looking decent, let alone force herself as far as the shop to deal with other bots all day long.
"I'll try hard to force myself to work tomorrow," she promised, not exactly sure if that was the answer the old bot was looking for or not But she saw him smile just a little anyway.
"Good to hear it," he said, before the serious expression left his face-plate, and he added, possibly joking and possibly not, "I've been thinking about getting a nice graphic myself. At first I was thinking maybe some flames... but then I figured that might be a bit crazy and wondered about something a little less... wild."
"Ambulon says the newspark is perfect..." Firestorm did giggle a little at the old medi-bot's comment, sure that had been his intention, and glad of the first laugh she'd had in too many days. But she changed the subject anyway.
"It certainly is, according to the record of your scans. Did he give you a photofile to keep?"
"N... no, he didn't. I... didn't know I could have one..."
"You most certainly can." Ratchet smiled again. "I will make one for you before you leave here today... youngling's first picture."
"Thank you..."
"All in a day's work," Ratchet smiled again, reaching over the desk to rest a hand on her shoulder lightly. He picked up his sweet bowl and smiled brighter as he offered it out to her, chuckling a little when she hesitated a moment considering carefully before she took a a sweet in sulphur flavor – one she had never much liked before, but suddenly found herself craving.
"I can't believe I'm really carrying," she muttered, somewhat shaky as she said it out loud, amazement over how it still sounded close to unbelievable. "You know I suppose, about... It was suggested that I..." She couldn't even force herself to say what she wanted to out loud, and only hoped the the old bot would understand her anyway.
"I do indeed." Ratchet frowned for a good moment, saying nothing, before he finally shook his head and added seriously, "I've been informed about that while situation by the the other medic..."
"I won't, Ratchet. I won't," Firestorm said, instantly protective of her child's tiny spark again, and covering it with her hands over her panel. "I'll raise him alone if that's what it takes to keep him, but I won't destroy him."
"Do you think I'd make you a photofile and tell you how healthy and perfect that newspark is, if I thought for a second you might want to do that?" Ratchet asked her, smiling assurance over his desk. And his hand rested again on her shoulder panel. "I know a few bots who would happily build a beautiful flyer frame for that beautiful baby in five days tops. You'll need a recharging basket too of course... pick one out anytime and get me the order number. We'll call it a gift from his great-grand-creator Ratchet."
"Th... thank... you..." Firestorm muttered, fighting off tears that had quickly threatened again.
"Think nothing of it" the old medic said. And he got up from his desk again, walking around quickly to hug her, as she cried hopelessly and overwhelmed. "I never had my own family, but you along with a few other bots, are pretty slaggin' close to it. I never got to buy a basket for a youngling of my own... and please pick a nice one. I insist on it"
"Ratchet?"
"Hmm?"
"Did I waste my time?" Firestorm questioned, sad again and tearful as she let go of the old bot and looked up at him. "I gave Soundwave years of my life. I loved him. I still love him... even after he rejected our baby. Because... I don't think he meant to be so sparkless, and I know he has his reasons. And I always knew how much he loved me too."
"You didn't waste your time," the old bot said. And he smiled an understanding and confidant smile, even when Firestorm knew some bots might have easily disagreed with his opinion. "You two loved each other, and true love between bots is never a waste. Besides, soon you'll have a wonderful youngling – a child I know full well you wanted for years but gave up on because Soundwave said never." The medic steeped back then and moved to sit behind his desk again, before he looked over the top of it and gave her a serious look, before he went right on speaking. "Some bots I know will be quick to hate Soundwave in all this... for thinking that to simply kill off a newspark because he doesn't want one was really an option, and to up and leave you behind when you refused. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't feel under any circumstances like he's in the right... I have yet to speak to him, but you better believe I plan to do exactly that before this day is over. Soundwave is certainly not stupid and he should know full well he has no right... But Soundwave is also such a complicated bot, and you know he's not much like anyone else. He looks for the logic in everything, and seeks solutions above anything else. To him, nothing is unsolvable or at least it shouldn't be and emotions are an after thought."
"He calmly asked a medic to terminate the life of our child, just like it was nothing," Firestorm said. Her sudden anger was enough to drown out her tears entirely. And she just sat in her chair, with her hands balled up into fists, and she silently cursed herself for still feeling love for that bot that had said such a thing.
"A situation exactly like this one was precisely what I feared years ago." Ratchet shook his head, so clearly unsure of exactly what to do. "For a bot as smart as he is when it comes to so many things, he can also be so hopelessly stupid and clueless about so much else."
"Everyone said we'd never make it... that I was too naive, and he was too very different from anyone."
"You tried your best. You truly loved the bot that the whole city said could never have learned how to love you back. And you just never know... he could still change his mind."
"You really think he might?" Firestorm asked, daring for hope for the first time since Soundwave had left. And instantly she questioned her own sanity in wanting to hope for that at all.
"Never say never," Ratchet answered. "it seems to me it's still a little soon to give up. Now," he waved his hand toward the office door. "If you'll come with me into the medbay, I'd like to give you a full carrier work up, as well as mix you some energon additive packs for you to start consuming tonight."
Firestorm followed the old bot slowly, as he led her into the medbay near his office. And she lay up in the repair table closest to the far back wall, looking nervously for a second at a tray of equipment he had in there already set up and waiting for her. He knew it shouldn't hurt her in the least – or least she certainly hoped so. Still, she wished Soundwave was beside her, to smile with her over their tiny newspark, and ask his own questions.
"Would you mind if I let Bumblebee scan and check you over?" the old medi-bot asked, waving then toward his young student, who Firestorm had only just noticed had come in at all. 'Bee stood near the edge of the closed curtain, smiling at her with obvious uncertainty.
"I will of course be here to oversee his work, but he needs his practice as much as anyone, and since I just happen to have a carrying bot here... I doubt 'Bee will even truly need me..." Ratchet continued, chuckling a little. Firestorm just nodded her agreement, nodding as she smiled back at the medical student.
Bumblebee immediately strapped an energon pressure monitoring cuff around Firestorm's arm, remarking after a moment that the pressure was just a little high, and deciding just as quickly that it was well within the safe range. He measured her temperature and nodded approval. Then he scanned the newspark again, showing Firestorm on the screen just how much it had clearly grown since she last seen it still recently. And he promised her the photofile she'd already been promised.
"Your recommendations for daily fuel additives, 'Bee?" Ratchet prompted him And the younger bot appeared to think carefully for a moment.
"One part medical grade iron power, to one point five parts copper... plus two mils fine ground gold in three parts energon twice daily," 'Bee said, with something very close to confidence as the old bot stared at this optics, clearly trying to unnerve him. "The... iron..." he nearly stammered a little clearly trying so hard before he picked up again where he'd paused and this time he finished confidently. "The iron is of great benefit to her own frame, which in her case is at least seventy percent iron based. The... copper will support her wiring systems as she has copper wiring. And the... gold is for the newspark – providing it with slightly more then enough fuel to grow and to stabilize that tiny spark..."
"Very good." Ratchet smiled at him now. "I trust you will have that mixed before you release her today. Continue."
Bumblebee nodded, and reached for his scanner again, holding it in his hands to adjust the settings before he began a full body scan, starting at Firestorm's feet. He stopped when he reached the middle of her frame though, and just stared for a good while at the screen, appearing visibly confused.
"Bumblebee..." Ratchet said, his tone almost impatient, and so clearly implying that he thought for sure his student should have known exactly what he was looking at by then.
"Ratchet," 'Bee answered, still doubtful, despite the reprimand. "Can you... have a look at this, please?"
"She's a perfectly healthy young carrier, 'Bee," Ratchet half grumbled, stepping closer to him to peek over at the scanner screen. "There is no reason at all to..."
The old medi-bot stopped abruptly however, and snatched the scanner from the young student's hands, looking it over himself for a moment, before he pulled it back and slowly moved it closer again to re-scan her, with disbelief clear in his optics.
"Ratchet, is that a...?" 'Bumblebee started to ask. But he stopped speaking again before he could finish and just stared at the screen.
"Wh... what is it?" Firestorm asked then. A sudden and horrible flash of fear flowed through her spark, as she imagined every terrible thing that might be wrong with the newspark she'd just been told was perfect. And she reminded herself firmly that the medic's attention was clearly on her midsection, and certainly not her spark chamber. And surely that was good news.
"You're fine, you're fine," Ratchet muttered, smiling a little at her as he motioned for her to keep on laying stay where she was.
"That's... the start of a protoform," the old medic said, speaking to his student, who just looked shocked, at the scanner screen.
"Is that the beginning of a fuel pump?" 'Bee questioned, still so clearly confused by what he was looking at.
"It is indeed," the medic nodded, before he pointed out some detail on the screen. "And you see this 'Bee? That looks like the very start of an intake system. There's the fan... and the pump..."
"So... my body is producing... parts?" Firestorm questioned them both, more shaken then ever, but deciding quickly that she was still relieved because it didn't sound like a terrible situation based on the old bot's tone of voice.
"It is," Ratchet said, smiling now and clearly almost pleased with the discovery, much to Firestorm's dismay and confusion. "You should eventually have a completed tiny bot with working internals and a perfect processor in there. And of course it looks like you won't need to build that frame I just offered to find you help with.
"But..." Firestorm was baffled now, far to nervous and unsure to care than she might have sound clueless and ridiculous. "That's not how younglings are made."
"Well it sure isn't in general," Ratchet only chuckled back. "At least it sure isn't commonly heard of anymore. I haven't seen and overseen the care of a protoform carrier in at least four centuries..."
"So, what will happen now?" Firestorm asked him. And she allowed herself to be more curious by now, because the medic's tone told her it was not bad news, even if it was close to unheard of.
"You'll keep on producing parts inside that protoform, that's currently growing itself nicely amid your gears and cogs," the medic told her calmly. "It should take around minty-seven more days or so. A bit longer than a standard carrying but perfectly safe in this case. I will need to scan you often... make sure the tiny youngling of yours develops every internal piece of it's body, and if by some chance it doesn't I'll begin building one ready to make repairs later. But don't worry yourself over that. Such issues are very uncommon. The spark of the youngling is growing, as you've seen in your spark chamber, and for now it spins around yours just like any. Much later in your carrying, it should separate, but it will be different from the usual... instead of going into full on spark separation, it will simply drop, joining with its frame ready for delivery in roughly fifteen to twenty more days."
"I... I was scanned so recently," Firestorm said, disbelieving, as she looked at the screen that Ratchet now showed her, pointing out the tiny intake pump and two formed blades of a fan inside the start of what could clearly become a bot of its own eventually. She wondered how the first medic who had looked her over – one with experience of his own – had missed all of that.
"Things change so fast at this stage," Ratchet told her, clearly understanding without a need for her to "The last time you were scanned there would not have been anything to see aside from the spark." He rested a hand on her shoulder for the third time that and smiled again with assurance.
"You and that little newspark are perfectly fine. And I really have seen such a carrying before. We can do this."
"Thank you," Firestorm said, gratefully again.
The young med student, at Ratchet's prompting, prepared to take an energon sample then. And Firestorm, who felt like she'd been through just one too maybe medical procedures in her life already, mostly thanks other processor damage, felt herself growing uneasy as she always had, however silently. Once again, she wished she wasn't all alone, and that thought only reminded her of the empty apartment she would go home to again. She fought back tears and trembled a little, while Ratchet, appearing to understand her thoughts, just patted her shoulder panel for a good moment and smiled at her.
########
Arcee walked beside her bondmate into a large presentation room on base. And found the place already half full when they got there. Autobots now residing on Cybertron again, and working in various positions all over the city, had come together for this meeting. And most of them had taken seats already, sitting scattered throughout the small auditorium, in serious casual conversations while a few others milled standing at the edges of the room. There were a few neutrals – those particularly interested in matters of security and safety – among them as well. And Arcee spotted Speedbreaker, unsurprisingly sitting in the very front row just as though she truly belonged there. She chatted idly with some extremely old Autobot commander, who had arrived in command of a ship filled with a very small crew and a handful of passengers perhaps a month before. And he looked genuinely impressed by Speedy, who talked about history and the Autobot side of the war just as though she herself had been an Autobot too.
Speedbreaker smiled, and politely excused herself with a motion of her hand, when Arcee and Knockout came closer to her, both sidestepping down the row of chairs to a couple of empty ones on the other side of her.
"What did Ratchet's team discover out there?" Arcee questioned, directing it to no one in particular.
That's what this meeting was about – intel brought back by the medic and his small team of volunteers. But she had been able to gleam exactly nothing else about the matter from anyone so far. And she most certainly did not like it in the least.
"I'm not sure anyone knows yet," Speedbreaker answered her with a look of obvious uncertainty. She waved toward the old Autobot she'd been conversing with and added unhelpfully, "even the commander here haven't been told anything."
Ultra Magnus was seated in a seat of his own, a couple of rows up. And obviously hearing the conversation below him, the former Autobot commander turned police captain, shook his head to indicate his own lack of any knowledge.
"It makes sense that no one knows yet," said Bulkhead, sitting right behind Arcee, with Bumblebee beside him. He just shrugged a little when she looked right at him. "If no one drops a hint, we can't possibly have rumours flyin' around and no one is likely to cause a panic with false information."
"Let everyone hear the whole story at once, and we can all be sure we heard it right..." Arcee muttered, appreciating that in spite her edginess over still knowing nothing. "That's exactly what Optimus would do..."
"Yep," Bulk nodded his head, even smiling a little.
"Hey, Ratchet wasn't Prime's most trusted friend for no reason," Ultra Magnus added, smiling slightly himself.
"Hey," Speedy tapped Arcee's shoulder panel lightly with her hand, getting her attention, before she gestured with her optics toward the door, with was over to the right and still open. She smiled brightly. "Looks like Firestorm's finally made it out of her apartment."
Arcee turned to look toward the door, and sure enough caught sight of Firestorm who lingered for a moment in the doorway. Her paint was newly polished, but she'd so clearly missed a few places, and left scratches behind. And her optics were tired. She clearly stopped her friends up front, because she slowly began to walk toward them before slowly dropping down into a chair beside Knockout – who had so far been the bot at the end of their row.
"Hi," Arcee said to him simply, talking to her around the front of her mate's chest panel.
"Hello," Firestorm said back. Her voice was quiet and so clearly sad. But she smiled a little anyway, and glanced around the room with a look that reminded Arcee at once of a bot not sure if she should be there or not.
"Glad you could make it," Knockout told her. And it was quite obvious in that, that he simply wanted to assure her that she was just as welcome as anyone.
"Whatever Ratchet and his team have learned... I know it could be important," Firestorm explained. She leaned back on her chair, with her head dropping just slightly forward, and it was so easy to guess she'd barely recharged lately. "Anything that effects the planet effects me to, so..." she didn't bother to finish because she didn't need to.
"I... I've heard all about the newspark..." Arcee said, just slightly hesitantly. The city was still small. And word, even if bots didn't mean for it to spread, travelled far too fast. "And... I know about Soundwave too."
Arcee smiled slightly, hoping it looked something like assurance, because that was how she meant it. Firestorm was carrying, and Arcee still almost couldn't believe it was actually true. She supposed, on some level she should have been just a little jealous and annoyed that now both of her two best femme-friends were carrying newsparks together, while she herself was still most definitely not. But Firestorm's situation in particular – the spark break she'd faced long after anyone that knew her, had become truly convinced that she and Soundwave were forever and would surely get around to finally spark bonding some day – that whole mess left no room for jealousy. It was clearly instead that Firestorm simply needed any help that she could get, because she was soon to be the city's most unlikely single carrier.
"let's go out for drinks later," Speedy suggested, smiling brighter, before she giggled, adding, "non high grade of course... at least for Firestorm and I. I'm sure we can leave our younglings with our mates tonight!"
Arcee had rarely been out 'on the town' at all in years, except for planned Autobot events, usually on base. And frankly, the idea of going out for an evening under any other circumstances didn't exactly interest her much at all. But she could easily understand exactly what Speedy was trying to do, and she knew her friend was doing it for Firestorm. A fun night out, and a place where they could all talk for a while – assuming they could find a place not bursting to the brim with loud and fighting drunks – could be exactly what the young bot needed to make her feel just a little better.
Arcee nodded then with her silent agreement, and watched as Firestorm first shook her head to refuse, but finally gave in to prompting.
The room had been filled, all the while with the ongoing sound of many quiet conversations, and the odd short burst of casual laughter some somewhere or another. But it all died down abruptly. And in a second more it had all but stopped completely.
Arcee turned her attention right back to the front, along with her friends and her bondmate, in time to see Ratchet walk across to a low platform at the front of the room. He was followed closely by Smokescreen and Wheeljack, who had gone with him off planet, as well as three more Autobots, from other more recently returned teams, who had gone along as well – having decided much later in the planning that perhaps they ought to be included as 'back up'. Ratchet held up a hand, demanding attention, with a serious look on his face-plate. But there seemed very little need, because the group that was waiting, was already giving him their nearly full attention.
"You are waiting I suppose, on the outcome our our little 'off world outing,' the old bot said, taking a seat on the platform and looking suddenly wiry and worried. The look he gave was not lost on Arcee. And she stared ahead of her, with wide open optics and a pounding spark. Around her the crowd, practicably began to murmur.
"There weren't any prisoners dumped in the brig this morning," Bulkhead commented, speaking loudly enough to well heard. And others immediately murmured their confusion at that, Arcee included. Because all knew willing Ratchet had been to him a prisoner' or two, who might talk if needed.
"We had no need to take any," Ratchet answered. He laughed a tiny laugh but stayed serious all the while. "The 'cons we found out there – and we did find a few indeed – they were nothing more then scavengers. Lightly armed... their ship in disrepair. We think they were the very same scavengers described by Navigator Shortwave, in her recently filed report. In any case, those 'cons – I spoke with two – immediately began to blubber and bed as soon as it was proven how easily our tractor beam could have dragged their ship to ours and forced a docking, to allow us to easily get a hold of them."
There were a few laughs and some cheers around the room. And the old medi-bot waited for them to die down, before he chuckled a little to himself, and looked completely serious again.
"Needless to say they talked willingly," he continued. "A chance to fly away instead of a good stint in and Autobot holding cell, is usually enough to make 'em spill all the know... at least when it comes to the lower their ranks."
The old bot stopped then, his face-plate suddenly showing every bit of the worry and dread he'd been hiding so well before then. Wheeljack finally did so, with some clear and obvious hesitation, after moving slowly to the front of the raised platform.
"Everything they said to Autobot Shortwave was true. And both bots we saw and heard over comms, confirmed it by retelling everything and much more," Wheeljack explained. He looked uneasy too. And Arcee, noted that Wheeljack never seemed to look uneasy. He stood for a moment on the platform just shaking his head slightly, before he spoke again, his tone as serious as Arcee had ever heard it. "The 'cons are regrouping and they're working at it fast. They are following a new leader, who had promised them all a second chance at victory over Cybertron, and they claim full loyalty to him."
"Who is... this new 'con leader?" The question, surprisingly, was asked by Speedbreaker, who had managed to find her voice and speak up while most around her just sat shocked and stunned and horrified.
A couple of much older Autobots somewhere off to the far side of the room, stared at her with shocked disbelief, so clearly taken aback that a neutral would dare to speak up in an Autobot meeting. But aside from those two baffled stares no one else yet had their wits enough to react at all.
"Both scavengers have named Astrotrain," Wheeljack answered, his optics scanned slowly over the gathered group.
"So," Arcee said, her optics moving fast between Ratchet, 'Bee and Bulkhead – all of who had congregated with her in her furthest and half hidden corner of the auditorium, soon after the formal meeting had broken up. "What now?"
"Ain't that the question everyone's askin'?" Bulk' mumbled beside her. He looked at the floor, somewhere close to defeated.
"We don't know much," Bumblebee said. And suddenly, for the first time in years he sounded every bit like the young determined and ever sensible warrior he'd once been long before any bot should ever had to have been. He stood up straighter and looked his teammates in their optics. "What we do know though as that this Astrotrain is quite possibly on his way back to Cybertron eventually. And according to our forced intel, he might be bringing an army. That's not much to go on. We don't know how big this group of Astrotrain loyalists is... what they have for weapons... or even just how loyal and willing to fight they are."
"The 'Cons ended up just like the 'Bots by the end of the war," Ratchet pointed out. He'd gathered his senses well, and now stood straight and serious as ever, with his face-plate held in a intent sort of near scowl. "So many of them just fled in the endless chaos after Cybertron fell, because they had nowhere to go, and no real plan in place. Now there's so many that call themselves 'cons and they think that know what it all means to so proudly be one. But they've never seen a real battle... They'll happily march off to war, sure they're willing to die for their cause. But the first time they realize that real Autobot enemies are shooting back at them... that some are damaged and some may be off line... war somehow becomes real at that point."
"What about Astrotrain himself?" Arcee asked. She looked up at Ratchet, unsure exactly what it was she was dealing with, and not liking the feeling that caused her. "What's he like to try dealing with?"
"Hmm..." Ratchet considered for a moment, with his serious look still on his face-plate. "It's a bit hard to say for sure. We were pretty sure back in the day that he wanted be to leader, perhaps as much as Starscream did. But he was a different sort of bot... less loud and delusional, certainly less obvious about his ambitions. He was a decent fighter though, trained just as well as any, by the traditional Decepticon ways of be great or be killed while trying. In any case, I never personally thought he ever seemed all that smart."
"Do you think he can be reasoned with?" 'Bee asked. It certainly was a very good question. He knew well and fully believed in the power of reason, over the power of his blasters. "Maybe if we could just talk to the bot, he could see what we do... a world with potential in peacetime. Maybe, if he could just understand how much both sides are accomplishing here... together..."
"You really want to reason with a very big angry triple changer, 'Bee?" Ratchet sounded doubtful. But Bumblebee of course just nodded, confidant as ever for a bot still so you as he was.
"Yes," he answered slowly. "If I ever get my chance."
Arcee considered for a moment. And then she smiled a little, as a plan formed in her processor. It wasn't much of one, but it was something.
"I say, fine by me," she said firmly. "If and when Astrotrain and his little band of nobodies finally land on Cybertron, we try to intercept them so we can schedule a meeting. He should agree to that... even Megatron and Starscream agreed to a few. We let 'Bee try talking, because if that works then, great. Meanwhile, I'll lead a team, hidden with blaster, ready to take down 'Con leader wanna-be and his 'loyal henchmen' if 'Bee got it wrong."
"I'm down," Bumblebee said. He shrugged a little, but at the same time he looked perfectly serious too.
Arcee smiled at him then, the sort of proud, near disbelieving sort of smile she had showed him since they'd fought together in the war's final decade or so. He was truly ready to do exactly what he said he'd do. She realized then with the same start with which she'd realized it every other time. He'd learned so much from Prime... Everyone still said so sometimes, and they'd surely say it far more soon.
"Hey," she said, her hand rested on her young teammate's shoulder panel, trying hard to relieve him of the worry she knew he felt, even though he certainly wasn't showing a hint of it. "So far this was just a couple of 'cons and some still unsubstantiated threat. We all know it. We aren't back in the war yet, and if we get this right we never will be.
Her bondmate joined then then, standing beside her with a small smile on his face-plate, and showing easily that he too had be boosted in confidence by her words. He rested an arm lightly around her, smiling when she leaned just as lightly against him, watching with her as 'Bee and Ratchet walked off toward Speedbreaker, who stood across the room talking quietly with Firestorm.
"You think she's be okay?" Arcee asked, her optics gesturing in Firestorm's direction. And she saw her mate frown immediately.
"She will be," he said. "It might be awhile, but of course she will eventually."
"I always thought they'd been like us, her and Soundwave," Arcee muttered, still disbelieving over the mess. "Two more very different sorts of bots, who somehow made it anyway... another post war success story. They were going to be bondmates any day... or at least my credits were on exactly that."
"I thought so too," Knockout answered back, clearly sad himself. "Even if I did have my doubts at first of course."
"Soundwave isn't here," Arcee scanned the gathered group of bots, now all talking to each other in small groups around the room. She hadn't seen him earlier, and sure enough, still didn't.
"He may well be on patrol this afternoon," Knockout answered back. He looked back at Firestorm and smiled a little with something close to uncertain assurance. "He's not avoiding Firestorm. Duty still comes first and he knows that. And they don't hate each other."
"I know," Arcee replied. And she shook her head, before she looked back at her mate and mumbled , "I just wanted to have a word with him today... or possibly kick his aft well into next year..."
########
Firestorm was suddenly very much awake in the dark of night. And she was shaking from fright. She looked around her recharge room, from the position – sitting nearly straight upright on the recharge station – that she'd inexplicably woken up in, and saw little more then the darkness of the room around her. The young bot stayed that lay a moment, just shaking hard because she couldn't stop herself. And finally, she lay back down again.
Still, she was tense and unnerved. She certainly couldn't recharge . Just closing her optics made her shudder so horribly. Firestorm could not forget the dream she'd had – the most horrific she could ever remember in her life. And that included youngling-hood. She'd dreamed of war and battle, or armed Autobot soldiers firing high powered blasters at unseen enemies in the streets of her still inhabited city. Bombs had dropped from the sky, and explosions levelled buildings instantly to rubble piles in all directions. Soundwave had been nowhere, and after searching and searching through the war torn streets, she'd realized he'd never existed... that she'd only imagined he ever once had, because she'd been lonely.
Firestorm got up from the recharge station. And admittedly she felt like little more then a small and helpless youngling, as she pulled the curtains aside to peek outside the window. But the dream had been so real... she had to know it truly hadn't been. And she sighed loudly with relief when she saw streetlights and the road down below. There, across the road from her window, and ways below it, was the roof of another housing building. And in a couple of the units there was dim lights on as bots went about their business late at night inside. There was no sign of rubble and explosions – no bots with blasters. She leaned against the window sighing once again.
The dream – more like a nightmare she supposed – came back to her though as she stood looking down from the window. And now she remembered what had happened next. She found herself suddenly close to back in the dream again, just as though she was still trapped within it...
She stood in the street, explosions everywhere and someone... some nameless bot she'd never seen before and would never see again, screamed at her to run. She tried hard to make her feet comply – to run away toward the west, because that way seemed the safest, as a fallen structure – her own housing building – had crumbled to ruin and blocked her path to the north and the east, and huge bombs were falling to the south, shaking the ground for miles. Her feet though would not move, and she felt a strange weight in her arms. She looked down then to see an offlined youngling – a first frame newborn, laying just the way he'd died while she'd carried him. And the baby looked just like Soundwave... with her bright blue optics.
Firestorm gasped loudly, now sure of exactly what had woken her up, and made her sit up straight, before she even had. She stumbled backwards a few steps until she bumbled against the recharge station, and sat down on its edge. She wanted to recharge again. It was still hours until morning, and is she was going to reopen her paint shop for business, she needed the rest first. But she'd simply couldn't and she knew it would be pointless to try. She was upset and she was still shaking, even as she held her hand for a moment over her spark chamber, trying hard to convince herself that her still unborn youngling was perfectly fine.
She stood up again. And for a while she just sat in the dim lit living room, drinking a small cup of energon she'd warmed for herself hoping that would help her, and listened to the walls creak and plumbing rattle. She'd never lived alone before, and even after at least ten long days of struggling to do so, the noises in the night – and being an old building the place was certainly full of noises – played tricks on her mind in the dark. She heard a slight rattling noise, which quickly got loudly and nearly right above her, before it moved quickly, and still noisily somewhere behind her wall. And Firestorm looked around her quickly, holding her energon container tightly, struggling to identify the sound. A wash station, reason told her, in the apartment above hers. Water dripping hard into metal flooring before descending downwards through pipes inside the building's walls. It made sense and it almost made her feel better. She'd heard that noise a million times by then. But reason quickly left her, and still so shaken by the dream, she wondered if their could actually have been srcaplets living in the wall somewhere.
She felt a strange movement, small but certainly noticeable, behind her chest panel. Her newspark, active now that she was, and moving fast within her spark chamber. Firestorm raised a hand again, the one not holding her container, to rest against it for a moment. She tapped lightly against the metal of her chest panel, the way she had watched Speedbreaker do during her own current carrying and the one before, curious to see if she could could cause something to happen, as Speedy insisted was possible. And sure enough it felt exactly like the motion inside had sped up further in response to her tapping. She marvelled at the fact that she was already sensing anything at all in the way of movements, and the obvious awareness within the unborn newspark. She was amazed he was already big enough for that. But then she had carried for awhile before she'd even known.
Firestorm wondered for the first time then, if she was truly right to keep him. Surely there would be bots who would tell her not to, and maybe they were right. And she thought perhaps she ought to think of giving him up. Her thoughts turned to Windstorm, who she seemed to think of less and less each year. And she knew at once, he would insist and possibly demand she do exactly that. He'd say she couldn't do it, or at least she shouldn't – not because he didn't love, but because he did. And he'd love the newspark too, and insist on more for it than a young single carrier whose best she could do was not half as good as those who might want younglings and still be without them. She shook her head, took a sip from her container and wondered if in her current situation her brother could have been convinced to hear 'no.' She had no idea, and she supposed it didn't matter now anyway – but still she valued his opinion, just as though he still had one. The newspark moved again however just a moment later, faster and stronger than before. And she knew just as well as she had the day she'd first discovered he existed, that she could not possibly give him up.
There as a loud bang in the hallway, not far from her door. And voices yelled and shouted for a moment, followed by another louder bang. Clearly there was someone – a couple of someones – out there arguing again. That seemed to happen often, and a few on her floor alone were certainly known for it. But she wondered that night, for the first time ever, and much to her terror and dismay, what she might possibly do if one of those yelling bots was armed with a weapon.
Her mind wandered back to the nightmare again. And she shuddered harder than before, feeling suddenly so cold all alone her in dark and creaky home. She missed Soundwave more then ever at that moment, wanting to tell him about the dream she'd had, and to hear him say that she was fine and so was their child. She wanted him to laugh at her for thinking there could be scraplets in the wall, because then she'd laugh to, certain he was right. She wanted to hug him again... to hear him say he loved her.
She had activated her commlink before she'd even realized she'd meant to. And on the other end of the comm-call she heard the bleeping noise of an alert. She tried to drop the cal then, berating herself for her stupidity, but the call was picked up. She always hadn't thought it would be.
"Fire...storm...?" Soundwave's voice said hesitantly, on the other end somewhere. He certainly wasn't angry. He sounded so... sad. And very wide awake.
"Hi," she answered him, not sure what she'd planned to say exactly if he'd picked up the call.
"I... I had a dream..." she mumbled hopelessly, shaking all over again, and tears of coolant threatening now. "A terrible nightmare... about the war. The city was just... gone. And... and our youngling was... dead... There's someone outside screaming in the hall and something banging in the wall, and..."
"Firestorm..." Soundwave answered slowly, calm as he most often seemed to be. But strangely he didn't say anything else."
"I... I still miss you," Firestorm said.
"I miss you too, Firestorm..." she understood now that he hadn't answered her before because he'd been crying much to hard to try. "I'm sure I'll always miss you."
"I'm... sorry for bothering you. It's so late at night..."
"I don't mind. I am glad you comm'd me. I didn't think you ever would again, but you can sometimes, if you ever need anything."
"I..." Firestorm began to say something else. She wanted to say so many things, and she couldn't decided fast enough exactly what to say first, or if she would say it at all. But her own tears returned then, far worse then before. And she dropped the call quickly and without another word, choosing instead to curl up on the sofa crying until she lost all awareness as she dropped into recharge.
########
"Recharge station... desk... window," Blastwave said, motioning around the small room and vaguely toward the things he mentioned, as he did so. He shrugged a little, and gestured around at the other side of the room. "Shelves... holovid player." The youngling shrugged again, wandering slowly across the room, the pull open the curtains. And he gestured down to the roadway from the fourteenth floor of building six.
"It's not much yet," he went on, with another shrug. "We've... all seen a recharge room."
"We have," Soundwave answered, looking down at his youngling brother, only slightly less unsure how to talk him now as he had been the day they'd first met. "But this is your recharge room, on our home world. And that makes it worth being excited for..."
"Yeah," Blast' said. He smiled for a second, before looking thoughtful. "It's still hard to believe I'm here. Carrier says I'll join the school soon..."
The youngling looked down at the floor, clearly uneasy - or at least Soundwave thought unease was what he saw. He wanted to say something to his brother. But he didn't know what he should say or even wanted to. The youngling bot looked so much like him – sharing so many of their features from their carrier of course. And he reminded him just a little of his younger self. But the youngling was indeed still just that – a youngling. And Soundwave had never been good with then in general, or at least he felt like he certainly wasn't.
The idea of a brother was one he'd never once considered ever in his life, until he met Blast' still so recently. And to see a bot who was almost a smaller, youngling version of himself, was a thing that he was still far from used to. And neither of them were very good at simple conversation, so they just kind of watched each other quite a lot. But still, both were intrigued by the other's existence – Soundwave knew he was, and it was so easy to guess that Blast' was to.
The youngling bot sat down suddenly on the floor. And he set to work without a word about it, opening a crate of datapads and other random items, which he then started unpacking onto his shelves. And Soundwave, unsure how to restart conversation of even if he should, simply turned and left the room.
Wandering slowly down the hall, back the way he'd come in the first place when the youngling had led him, he found his carrier, unpacking a few things of her own – just one single crate of them – in the living room. And he sat down, half to to fully uneasy, at a simple table in the corner.
"Your home is... very nice," he said, awkward around his own carrier, and not liking it at all.
Her home really was a decent home – still close to empty except for a few pieces of obviously second hand furniture, which bots regularly gave to new refugees as they updates their own after years of becoming established on the planet. And the walls were still completely bare. But still it looked like a real home, and Soundwave was glad she and his siblings had one.
He wished though that they could go back to the first days of their reunion – to the endless laughter and the long days of visits in parks and his apartment, and even in the marketplace. But things were different now, and they'd gotten that way abruptly. They still visited as much as they could. They'd joyfully shared in Shortwave's excitement when her family came up so fast on the housing list. He'd showed her the city – and warned her of anyplace to be avoided past dark. But there was far less laughter, and less real conversation. The two – it seemed, had little left to talk about.
"I saw Firestorm this morning," Shortwave said suddenly, instead of any comment at all about the apartment. And Soundwave, who had been trying his hardest to forget his sadness at the simplest mention of her name, dropped both his gaze and his shoulders a little. "I went to her shop because I want to let Blast' be professionally painted before he joins a classroom soon. I asked if she would possibly do Light' too, seeing as she's not a typical and easy to paint bot. She said she'd be delighted to try to paint her pretty... She invited me and your siblings over for a visit. I told her of course, and I'd love to visit with her."
"I'm glad you and Firestorm are going to keep in touch and be friends," Soundwave told her, meaning it completely.
One thing, above so many others, that had devastated him in leaving Firestorm the night he'd left, was that it would later break his carrier's spark as much as it broke his own. Shortwave had come to love her quickly and he knew it. She's know her grand-creation too. And he smiled just a little to himself in knowing that.
He was stunned – not to mention entirely shaken and utterly floored when Shortwave, standing up from her own chair at her small table before he even noticed her do so, smacked him hard with an open palm, clean across his face-plate.
"Carrier?" Soundwave questioned, sure he must surely have sounded ridiculous in his near stammering confusion.
He was most certainly not accustomed to being slapped. No bot on Cybertron, and definitely not a single one on the warship, would have dared to challenge him in any way, let alone full on slap him. And so, for a good long moment, he just sat exactly where he was, optics wide with baffled confusion, and barely daring to move, least she decide to smack him again and harder. His metal still stung from the first good smack.
"I think as a carrier I have every right to smack my own grown youngling good, when he's being a particular sort of Primus fragged idiot!" Shortwave said, before she sat back down, nonchalantly and clearly exasperated. "And that's no less than that lovely girl of yours should have given you."
Soundwave was about to say something in reply. He wanted to admit that he deserved that he and knew it. But his carrier just glared at him, a look of love and warning all mixed into one as surely only one's carrier could give, no matter the age of the bot receiving the look. And she was speaking again, before he could even try to.
"She's thinking she ought to close the paint shop. You were the first bot to believe in her, and everything she achieved when the world said she wouldn't, she did because you knew she could! Don't think I couldn't see that she's been crying for days straight... all while carrying. You tore that poor bot's spark to pieces, and stomped on what was left of it."
"I... suppose she told you everything..." Soundwave muttered, suddenly horrified, and shameful enough to wish he could off line that very moment. He knew how much Firestorm had come to trust his carrier so quickly.
"She certainly did," Shortwave answered. She wasn't glaring with her anger anymore. And calmly now she reached across the table to rest a hand against his shoulder panel.
"Soundwave," she asked quietly. "How did I raise a genius youngling, who could still be so insanely idiotic?"
"We were never having younglings, Carrier," Soundwave said, just slightly defensive now because he didn't know what else to be – he didn't like defensiveness and it never had become him well. "Firestorm knew that. She was fine and we were happy."
"Yes you were happy," Shortwave said. "But she wasn't fine. Soundwave, I may have lived for decades on a ship, but I didn't always. I've had friends in my life, and a few slaggin' good ones. I know the look of a young bot who wants something so bad she's afraid to even think of the thing she wants because she might start crying for seemingly no reason and be discovered in her lie of no longer wanting it. That something is usually a youngling. Don't think I didn't see that look in her optics too. And firestorm loved you enough to stay and commit even after you said no. And now that it's happened anyway, regardless of exactly how, it's absolute cruelty to assume for even a second she might just give that up because you said so... and then simply decide to part ways when she, quite understandably, refused."
"Firestorm was fine," Soundwave repeated, speaking truly in denial now, because just understanding how much she'd really always wanted the one thing he'd so calmly suggested they simply terminate, made him feel as though his own spark had surely been torn from his frame right along with hers.
"Would it be so bad, having a youngling in your life?" Shortwave asked him. And she smiled just a little, always wistfully. "One who will love you no matter how many foolish things you do, and trust you with it's tiny life and smile at you enough to make the worst days good again. They're lovely, I can assure you. I've had three."
"I can't raise a youngling," Soundwave answered. He lowered his optics tears of his utter devastation fell before he could even hope to stop them. "How can I, with an unfeeling brute for a creator? How can I love the poor tiny thing unconditionally, when the only 'fair discipline' I know is to hit her until her tiny face-plate bleeds, and she thinks I'm the monster he was. How can I tell her that feels are fine and it's okay to have them all, when I still barely understand my own and I never will. And what am I supposed to do when she comes home beaten and injured by younglings on the playground because carrier murdered millions in a time of war and served the losing side. Firestorm knew it was impossible!"
"You told her you love the newspark..."
"I do love the newspark. I'll live the rest of my life with the guilt of saying it should simply die like it was never here at all. I said that without thinking. It's... my child. One I never dreamed I'd ever have, and I love her as much I love Firestorm. I wish I could be with them... to meet her when she's born and to show off photofiles like any proud creator... Firestorm called me last night. She was shaken up and lonely. I think it just made us both miss each other again..."
"You miss each other because your sparks were meant for one another," Shortwave said. She smiled a little and shook her head. "So many bots never find their 'one true partner... though I do think a crazy war that tore the world into factions only made things worse when it comes to love. I never did find mine. But you did... just the fact that she doesn't hate you for your complete lack of any good judgment in the handling of your little... situation, ought to prove that."
"I don't believe I've ever been so sad before," Soundwave muttered, still looking at his carrier's apartment floor. Watching as the dull grey metal of the tiles before to waver and bend, as tears filled his optics again. "I've never missed someone so much."
"You'll never be the perfect creator," Shortwave said seriously. "No one will. But you can learn as well as anyone. And knowing exactly the kind you'd never want to be is knowledge you can use. You know you don't want to be a monstrous brute to a youngling, so don't be one. Love the child as much as you love his carrier and you'll be admired, not feared."
"This isn't what I thought I wanted," Soundwave mumbled. His tears fell still harder. But Shortwave only looked at him when he raised his optics anyway, understanding on her face-plate without a hint of any judgment.
"No," she said firmly. "But it's exactly what you're getting anyway."