Code Orange

Ratchet had spoiled his chance to make something out of the secret of Optimus Prime’s death by going to Ultra Magnus and having the mech announce it to all and sundry before he could begin planning.  Nor had he been able to capitalize on the grief of those who had not yet known; after his little encounter with the medic, his every move had been watched.

They thought he did not notice.  His stalkers were good, yes - he would have readily agreed that they were some of the best and stealthiest bots left - but they were not him.  They also suffered from an unfortunate tendency to forget about Laserbeak.

Still.  He was being monitored in such a way that he would need to spend at least twice the effort to get anything done, and he could not spare it for so little return.

Soundwave had attempted to just spend time in the company of Decepticons who considered the news delightful in the hopes of stumbling onto an easy picking, but soon found that there were none who would speak about it.

Despite their mass tendency toward gossip, the Eradicons held their glossas to keep from getting thrown out.  Knock Out chattered in his usual way about everything except whatever Ratchet deemed unacceptable.  Starscream was…

…Well.

Starscream’s spark continued to function, and that was about all anyone could ask of it.  And Megatron?  Pacing the border of the Mithril Sea with no desire to return.

In his desperation he’d finally started to seek out the company of his old and most-favored acquaintance.  They had originally parted on uneasy terms, but after the mech’s reappearance at Darkmount, small gestures had been made on each side.  Not necessarily indicative of that which Soundwave craved most, but still a pleasing development in the grand scheme of things.

To his dismay, he discovered that the reason for Shockwave’s silence went beyond simple introversion and a preference for solitude while working.  No one knew where the infamous scientist was because nobody had seen him.  Even the known labs had been checked and found empty.  The only one who would possibly have the smallest idea was Starscream, and sparks on life support simply didn’t talk much.

Not that it would stop him trying to find a way to fix that.

Soundwave stalked into the med bay, all the data he had on sparks opened and running through his mind.  If he could not find anything (and to be perfectly honest, it was likely he wouldn’t; he preferred to keep things of actual use to his scheming and not random medical information) then he would make a demand for information from the medic.

If Ratchet was wise, he would come out soon.  Soundwave did not like to be kept waiting by anyone.

~*~

While it had been Ultra Magnus who announced the Prime’s demise, it had been left to Elita One and Prowl to determine what was to be done about Soundwave. The returning head of Special Ops hadn’t been keen on doing anything that didn’t involve putting Soundwave back exactly where Ratchet had pulled him from. Ratchet didn’t blame the mech. Not with the history that existed between Jazz and Soundwave and the empty cold space the saboteur had left in Prowl with his death.

Even if Soundwave was not personally responsible for Jazz’s demise, Prowl seemed determine to maintain the rivalry and dislike that had existed between the two spies out of respect and love. Ratchet could understand that level of devotion.

It had only been Elita One’s authority and the Troqus’ desire to make Ratchet comfortable that had prevented anything further from happening. Ratchet had been satisfied with ensuring that if Soundwave was going to use Optimus’ death against him, he would be able to control how it was done.

Soundwave’s inquiries into Shockwave’s location had not gone unnoticed, so when the mech appeared in the medical bay some orns after their confrontation, Ratchet let him wait a few kliks before coming out of his office.

"Soundwave," he acknowledged, barely looking at the Decepticon as he strode over to check Starscream’s monitors.

~*~

Soundwave had been tempted to start without Ratchet’s assistance after the fourth klik.  From what he could tell there were no warning signals on Starscream’s monitors and the spark looked as stable as it had been for some time.  No immediate threat of death.

Quietly, he wondered if anything could kill it.  According to more records he’d sneaked, Starscream’s spark had still been functioning despite sitting in the middle of a shattered frame that lacked the proper support abilities when the Autobots found it.

An anomaly, the notes said.  The state of the pieces gathered and the age of the injuries showed that the spark should have faded out long ago.  The life support it was on in the medbay was really more of a precaution than anything.

But back to the present.

He lifted his arms, digits wavering with uncertainty in midair.

Some mecha said important memories and the things last seen when the frame died were permanently engraved on the spark.  It had never really been proven - how could it be? - but such beliefs had to come from somewhere.  Most rumors contained a grain of truth, no matter how tiny.

When he heard the sound of Ratchet’s door opening and the mech’s pedes striking the floor, Soundwave abruptly dropped his servos, hiding the fact that he had been about to attempt a telepathic connection with it, and backed away to allow monitor access.

Ratchet, Raf’s voice squawked in return.  It swiftly switched over to that of Starscream himself.  Has there been any change in … condition?

~*~

Ratchet’s mouth thinned at his designation. The last bot to have reported in on Starscream’s condition had been First Aid and there had been no improvement. Or degradation either. Ratchet had been working with Remedy for orns on trying to figure out what was happening and been left stumped. Not even the Ancient had seen something like this before, though Ratchet suspected there was something she was keeping back.

"I don’t know why you’re asking me considering you’ve probably already seen his medical files," he quipped, checking the spark support connections. "There’s been no change. We’ve decided to go ahead with completely building a new frame but that will take time since we’re still going through the recovered supplies from the Nemesis."

He gave Soundwave a short look, trying to figure out what the other mech could even care about. From what he remembered of the two, they hadn’t exactly been friends. In fact, aside from Knock Out and a few of the Eradicons, no one seemed to care what was happening to the Peregrine.

It was easier to think he wanted the same things the Autobots did. Information.

"I’m certain there’s quite a bit he could tell us but we have no way to access it. A Cortical Psychic Patch is impossible and I couldn’t even begin to guess what would happen if someone attempted a merge."

~*~

A new frame?  Then they were going through more effort to keep Starscream alive than he’d suspected, though he didn’t know why they would waste already-rare time and supplies on a conniving mech like that.  Starscream would be just as likely to thank them by shooting them in the back and flying off as actually demonstrating gratitude, and from what he gathered - unlike Megatron - the Autobots did not see him as an amusing toy to be beaten on and tormented whenever they pleased.

The idea that it might be a simple show of hospitality and concern for a fellow Cybertronian never crossed his mind.  Starscream had complained on more than one occasion that Ratchet hadn’t helped him without getting something in return, and Soundwave doubted the old medic had suddenly changed his ways.

…That was it, wasn’t it?  Data.  Just like before.  They wanted to try to trap Starscream into giving them information because they’d done the ‘noble’ thing and granted their former enemy a new frame.

How terribly wicked of them.

He approved.

Soundwave lifted his helm and stared at Ratchet, contemplating whether or not it would be worth potentially being banned from the medbay to try and get what he wanted from Starscream and put Ratchet in debt to him.  If the Autobots thought him willing to cooperate and save them some trouble, then there was a chance they’d unknowingly put on blinders and overlook his shadier personal activities from time to time.

Some of them, anyway.  The others could be dealt with using a different method.

Yes.  Worth the risk.  They’d have to let him in when he got injured anyway; he’d just set himself up appropriately and continue his business then.

Soundwave raised his servos, holding them palm-up before Ratchet.

The chances that the mech would have forgotten what he could do just by touching someone were small.  As he recalled, the demonstration he’d given before the war had gone over quite well.

~*~

Ratchet had no intention of explaining what the reasons for Starscream’s eventual new frame were. His decision started with not wanting to drag up the debate that had led them into making that choice and ended with Ratchet’s certainty that Soundwave would take some perverse pleasure in the knowledge.

Some of the mecha involved in the decision had honestly wanted to do it out of some sense of right and wrong that Ratchet hadn’t exactly agreed or disagreed with. The decision had ultimately fallen to Elita One and Prowl and they had agreed that since execution didn’t seem to be possible, it would be less of a drain on their resources to rebuild the seeker’s frame and hope he could be reasoned with.

If not, well, that wouldn’t be Ratchet’s decision to make.

Soundwave lifting his servos up gave Ratchet pause, the CMO tamping down the memories that came with that gesture. The other mech’s hands had been different then and the offer was not being made to him, he realized. He shook away the thought with a scowl.

"You want to try and pull data from him," he said, glancing from those servos to the carefully contained spark.

~*~

Soundwave nodded and allowed one to drift to the side until it hovered over the glowing ball in a test of unknown boundaries.

Want … data from him.

The second gestured to Ratchet before rejoining the first.

You want?

He hoped Ratchet could be persuaded to give him permission if it meant the Autobots would be able to skip the entire frame-construction step.  All biomechanical material was desperately needed for other matters anyway; it couldn’t be too hard a sell.

The longer he waited for an answer, the closer to the spark his servos drew.

~*~

Only a nanoklik passed between Soundwave confirming his suspicions and Ratchet giving a firm nod to allow him to continue. They had been trying to find a way to communicate with Starscream since he had been found and had no luck beyond a few overclocked computers and a nearly unreadable electromagnetic field.

Ratchet couldn’t remember if the seeker’s field had always been like that or if it was a side effect of being without a frame.

"Let me," he turned away briefly to find a tricorder, wanting to at least try and read if there were going to be any changes. Jetfire would want to know.

~*~

Soundwave waited only until Ratchet brought the tricorder back and no longer, cupping the spark in both servos, energy licking over thin digits and curling up toward his wrist spurs.  He could not help the rattling mis-vent that shook him as soon as he made contact, immediately stunned by the information attempting to batter its way past his defenses.

The stories of some memories being written spark-deep were true.  The most vivid ones scratched themselves into the very core of one’s being, rewriting personality programming and permanently becoming a part of it.

He knew this to be the case because he’d found himself abruptly hurled into the middle of a savage beating given for one of his failures, unable to remember whether or not the long, sharp claws being raised in a failed attempt to protect his faceplates were his own.  Somehow, he could hear static-harsh screams and babbled pleas for mercy pouring out of his vocalizer with every blow even though he had not spoken a single word on his own for millions of stellar cycles, drowning out the angry roaring but unable to do the same to the burning red optics and oxide shark-like dentae that seemed to swallow the sky above him.

Megatron.

Those memories were not his own.  They could not have been!  He had never been treated that way by their leader.  The pain was not his.  The fear was not his.

Soundwave fought for control of his own mind, trying to separate himself from the events he was viewing by forcing a sense of calm to drape itself over the scene.

He realized his error as soon as he made it - such a feeling of safety had never been present in the bot’s memories before.  That he succeeded in forcing a stop to the relived trauma was only because his intrusion had unexpectedly awakened a basic echo of the being to whom the spark had belonged, pulling its awareness out of the past and into the present.

«…Who…?» it asked, more to itself than to him.

He felt it question whether or not it was in the presence of the Allspark and then discard the idea as improbable as there was only a single individual, and no loving warmth.

Snippets of fainter memories floated to the top of its consciousness, of blurry shapes Soundwave judged to be Predaking and his brethren and the agonizing feel of having his insides torn out while he watched.

And then it understood.

There was nothing to indicate that it retained a frame of any kind - although it did not know how it could have survived without one - and no other bot left alive was capable of interfering without at least constructing the most rudimentary shell through which it could communicate.

«Soundwave!?»

The spark pulsed harder in its cradle, crackling bolts of pink energy snapping out, practically lashing at his arms like whips.  The realization of what it - what Starscream was about to try came too late.

Starscream did not know how the mech had come to be freed from the Shadowzone, but he could sense the other spark nearby.  Where there was a spark, there was a frame - not counting himself, of course - and where there was a frame, there was the chance to snatch back his freedom… and take revenge.

With an intense flash of light, it shot out of the life support system almost as if it had been fired from the thing and headed straight toward exposed protometal, pouring itself through the seams just over the glowing patch indicating Soundwave’s spark and disappearing.

Soundwave’s visor briefly flared a brilliant red before he crashed backward to the floor.

~*~

Later, when Ratchet was filling out the report for this and drinking just enough high grade to stop the trembling in his servos, he would look back on this and realize that for all of the intelligence he and Soundwave had, they were both monumental idiots. Something Arcee would helpfully agree to when he said as much.

He should have expected something would happen. Maybe not this exactly, but despite all of the testing he and the science team had done, none of them had ever tried to actually physically handle Starscream’s spark. None of them were telepaths, so maybe the results would have differed, but Ratchet wasn’t willing to make himself a test subject.

The tricorder bleeped wildly as the energy he was recording suddenly skyrocketed and what had been a rather dull moment of monitoring suddenly turned into a flurry of activity.

He cursed, watching as the peregrine’s spark seeped through Soundwave’s chest and the mech collapsed to the floor. Without waiting to see what would happen, Ratchet knelt down to help, servos grasping the carrier by a shoulder and shaking him, hoping for some sort of response.

“Soundwave,” he said harshly and repeated the name before giving up and sliding his hand down to the other mech’s chest, the metal hot to the touch. “Scrap. Soundwave, respond.”

~*~

Soundwave’s frame twitched non-stop and his external speakers buzzed like a swarm of angry byte-bees, his systems unable to handle the amount of spark energy attempting to power them all.  Such a thin, light shell could not contain both Starscream and himself - either it would fail, or one of their sparks would.

The request to respond finally drew a long and tortured-sounding help composed of numerous voices that rose into a shrill electronic whine and then popped.

He said no more, data records from two sources flickering back and forth across his visor, biolights starting to glow a shade of indigo which, as he was not in the middle of fragging someone, could only indicate that his internal temperatures were soaring too high and too quickly for simple fans and coolant to bring down.

~*~

"Your spark chamber."

He could think of no reason for doing this other than the driving need to not watch Soundwave glitch and shake himself into going offline as Starscream did whatever he was trying to do. The chorus of help only spurred him into action when it became clear that Soundwave couldn’t comply.

It had been a long time since Ratchet had opened someone’s spark chamber without their explicit consent and he could taste the rust in the back of his throat at the memory. Stroking over the thin metal, he pried quickly and carefully at the plating until he found the transformation seams and could force the armor aside. It only took a few astroseconds but with each jerk and blast of scalding air from Soundwave’s vents, it seemed like cycles.

Eventually, he had it and stopped himself only last moment from simply reaching in to pull Starscream’s spark out. No, he would need to separate them without putting himself at risk. But how? He had coaxed spark separation during a bond, but this? This wasn’t anything he had ever seen before. One wrong move and he could kill them all.

"Ratchet, what’s happening?"

A voice broke through the haze and Ratchet’s optics snapped immediately to the blue and yellow mech standing a few paces away.

"Smokescreen!" he yelled, and levered himself up onto one knee to motion for the rookie to come closer. "The phase-shifter. Now!"

"Wha—" Smokescreen didn’t have time to ask as Ratchet took the device from his arm and attached it to himself.

The removal wasn’t even difficult after that, the intuitive nature of the relic kicking in and responding to what Ratchet wanted to do, and it was only Starscream’s spark he removed. Part of him briefly wondered how well this would have worked with the AllSpark before the writhing energies trying to wrap their way up his arm refocused him.

He didn’t waste time examining the spark in his servos, just slamming it back into the container it had been in while Smokescreen stood wide-opticked nearby.

Ratchet vented hard and turned toward him.

"Out," he gasped.

Smokescreen held his ground for a moment and it was only when Ratchet took a step toward him that the rookie stumbled back and disappeared out the door. Ratchet stayed where he was for a brief moment before dropping back down to the floor, hands going immediately to the edges of the still open armor as he leaned over to check Soundwave’s status.

~*~

For a while, the only things that could be heard were the pings and ticks signalling that the metal of his frame was slowly cooling down again.  He did not stir, screen blank and dark, limbs motionless and splayed.

It occurred to Soundwave while he lay there trying to regain control over his body that although he often heard others in his helm while listening in on their thoughts, he’d never actually had someone in there the way Starscream had just been.  A world of difference lay between the two, and he, for one, was relieved to be free of the second.

If he’d been exposed to foreign memories from the brief bursts of contact between Starscream’s spark and his own - and he had - then it was all too obvious to him that the disembodied mech had probably been able to do the same.  No telling which ones they were, or how badly compromised he was now.  Good to be rid of that before it got worse.

Good to be rid of it before he was extinguished.

No doubt he would have been.  Starscream’s seemingly immortal spark would have had no difficulty overpowering his own rather fractured one and surviving the initial support failure.

Various internal reports began pouring in, telling him of the physical damage done; a blown vocalizer fuse here, shorted circuits there, a (thankfully redundant) component melted to slag…

…His spark chamber unarmored and exposed to the open air as plain as you please.

Soundwave extruded a feeler and feebly slapped Ratchet away before rolling onto the flat of one shoulder, trying to will the protective plates to close themselves back up.  There was only one non-deployer bot he would have considered gifting that sight.

And according to Starscream’s memories, that one bot was no longer an option.

He pulled his EM field in close, draining it of all recognizable emotion, and lay still to do his silent grieving in what little privacy he could arrange for himself on the floor in the middle of the medbay with an Autobot not a meter away.

~*~

Ratchet gave a low harrumph at the smack and jerked his hand back before another could be delivered. He allowed Soundwave to pull away and gather his bearings for a few seconds before making a second attempt to assess the other mech’s condition.

"Do something so I can be sure you aren’t going to die on me," he said roughly. "What did Starscream do?"

Soundwave looked fine physically, but the effects of what had looked like a forced merge—or maybe something else given the strange properties of Starscream’s spark—weren’t usually plainly visible. He needed to check Soundwave’s systems and ensure everything was fine. If that meant dealing with the mech’s abuse on his servos, so be it.

~*~

Aren’t going to die, he repeated.

No.  He felt like he’d collided with Elita One’s alt mode at speed, but he knew he wasn’t so far gone that death was an option… though the more he thought about all he had lost, the more he contemplated whether or not he should accept that it could be.

At least Laserbeak remained behind with him.  Yes - as long as she survived, so would he.  His programming required that much, and he would not put her through the strain of a proper separation just to be selfish.  The Shadowzone had been enough for them both.

Not to mention that he’d soon need her around as a reminder that he hadn’t completelyfailed everyone important to him.

Soundwave listed some of the more obvious damages to his frame on his visor, highlighting trouble spots in red.  Evidently unable to walk, he wouldn’t be able to get onto a medbay table by himself.

Of course, he didn’t have to make it easy on Ratchet.  He’d have to be hoisted up like a newbuild, but he could make it very clear that he was still capable of fighting.  The medic would have to use both servos to get him up there, and he didn’t need more than that to cause problems.  A little attempted intrusion would serve as a solid reminder not to take his temporary physical weakness as a sign of something longer-lasting.

~*~

"Good. I don’t have the time to fit an autopsy and smelting into my schedule."

Without waiting for a second assurance about Soundwave’s status, Ratchet slipped a servo under his back and knees, finding the best places to lift from. He knew how much Soundwave weighed and if the mech was willing to cooperate, Ratchet wouldn’t have any trouble supporting his weight.

Hydraulics hissed as he lifted the Decepticon up from the floor and stumbled at the first touch of another mind against his own, the invasion unexpected and entirely unwelcome. With a warning growl of his engine, Ratchet rebuffed the intrusion and dumped Soundwave onto the empty medical berth.

"Stay out of my head," he warned.

~*~

Stay out of my head.

He returned the warning and nothing else.  As long as he was not pried into during the repairs, he would behave like a proper patient - but only because Knock Out was not skilled enough to handle the work himself and he wanted to get back to his quarters as soon as possible.  He had thoughts that needed working out and he could not do that in a place as public as the medical bay.

It wasn’t unusual to see him like this since the Allspark had been returned. Rumors about the reasons were constantly floating around despite attempts to quash them.

He turned toward the Communications Center and growled when the doors took too long to recognize his energy signature and open. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he made a note to have someone from Engineering assigned to look into that. He clipped the edge of the left door with his arm as he strode in.

The room was mercifully empty except for the mech he had been seeking out. Ratchet zeroed in on them immediately.

“Soundwave,” he ground the name out, denta clenched together hard enough to hurt as he drew himself up and propped his left fist on his hip, the other left to curl and uncurl at his side. “I do not know how things worked on the Nemesis but patient records are kept confidential for a reason. You do not have clearance to view those files.”

~*~

Soundwave had heard and begun to investigate plenty of those rumors himself.  Some were too stupid to consider for longer than a few breems - for example, he knew the medic well enough to feel certain that being constantly doused in high grade was not the problem - but passing final judgment on others proved difficult.

There was talk among the Eradicons claiming that Ratchet had lost an important patient.

From what Soundwave could tell, none of the Autobots he’d seen during the final battle aboard the Nemesis were missing…

…Except one.

The doors took too long to acknowledge Ratchet because Soundwave had personally adjusted their timing.  If he was to spend his time working in the Communications Center, he could not have every bored fool with two pedes and a question stomping in to interrupt.

The delay he’d added was not enough to be utterly obnoxious.  Just long enough to ensure most mecha possessing a desire to bug him would take the hint and turn around again.

He should have expected Ratchet would be more stubborn.

Ignoring the medic’s protests, Soundwave continued to read the one on the monitor in front of himself.

If clearance was an issue, he could break into the personnel files and adjust his own to avoid setting off alarms in the future.  Wasn't as if anyone would notice right away; without Jazz beefing up security, their efforts to keep him out were pathetic at best.

~*~

This wasn’t the first time mecha had tried to get into files they weren't supposed to be reading. Nor would it be the last. Normally, it would fall to someone else to confront and punish the rule breaker. But Ratchet knew exactly what files the Decepticon was going after and it had gone from invasion of privacy to personal in the time it took his fuel to pump.

"Look at me when I’m talking to you!"

He knew better than to antagonize Soundwave but anger had a way of bypassing every line of code that told him the mech could tear him into pieces without much trouble. This was the bot that had nearly killed Megatron once upon a time and Ratchet doubted his skills had lessened as he’d aged.

"You had no right!" he growled, and slammed a servo down onto the space between Soundwave and the monitor he was reading.

He was fully in the carrier’s personal space now, his field as much a weapon as any blade, the energy rolling off him like a whip. The air around him crackled with it.

~*~

Injury after injury continued to blaze across the screen at speeds making things all but impossible to read with optics alone; he kept ignoring Ratchet’s rants and demands in favor of forcing the records to reach their most recent additions.  It seemed like the closer he got, the more difficult it was to keep going - the medic’s doing, no doubt, and a big hint that something was definitely being hidden.

The loud crash of metal on metal caused by Ratchet’s hand slamming down between him and his monitor forced him to draw back about a foot.  Any fool could have read Ratchet’s fury without even trying; it licked at his plating, practically singing him, and could not be ignored.

This was his room, and if he was to work for what had been the enemy faction he would find out where its leader had gone and whether or not he and all the others were still at risk in some way.

And nobody invaded his space like that without regretting it soon after.

Leaving the Prime’s files to continue spinning, Soundwave slowly turned in place and loomed forward, pulling his own field in tight and coiling it up so that it could not be used to read him.  Let the temperamental bot bleed rage.  It was not his own way.  His anger burned cold, controlled.

The dark visor showed nothing but Ratchet’s reflection as both feelers abruptly burst from Soundwave’s chest and slammed into the other bot’s own, lifting him off the ground and smashing him into the wall before dropping him.

They wavered there in the air between them while he watched, waiting to see whether the fight would be continued or he’d successfully made his point.

~*~

Satisfaction rippled through him when Soundwave moved back in response to his servo striking the console. It was only a small amount of space but he had managed to break Soundwave’s vaunted concentration and focus that blank visor onto him. He hadn’t pulled him completely away from the files but Ratchet was willing to take what little victory he could grasp.

He knew there was no way to stop Soundwave from learning the truth.

Looking at his reflection, Ratchet straightened and drew up his shoulders. His expression changed for a fraction of a moment and the hand he had slammed onto the console curled into a fist. For an astrosecond, the anger and grief in his expression was mirrored back at him.

Then everything fell away as two feelers smashed into his chest to knock him back and into the wall behind him. Sensor relays along his back lit up white with pain and he was sure that he groaned when his legs refused to hold him upon being dropped. He crashed to the floor in a heap.

How easy would it be to curl in on himself. Maybe transform and peel out of there with whatever shreds of his dignity might be left. His back kibble scraped along the wall as he forced himself into an upright position.

"Why those files?" he demanded, stepping forward and back into range of the feelers. "What could you possibly have to gain from looking at them?"

~*~

Soundwave considered ignoring Ratchet again, certain that he could just keep the mech busy with a feeler or two instead of putting all his attention on the medic.  His personal records marked Ratchet as being a close-quarters fighter.  As long as Ratchet could not reach him, he would be fine.

Ah, but it had been some time since anyone had actually tried to fight back after getting crunched like that.  Wheeljack had made for an entertaining scuffle and there was the smallest of air fights at the bridge to rescue Shockwave and the fossil, but he hadn't really gotten involved in anything other than that.

Very well.  He would entertain the medic.  For now.

The Matrix of Leadership has been returned to the core.

Optimus’ medical report finally reached the end just as he finished repeating the phrase Ratchet had used when he’d first woken up in the Autobot medbay; the console beeped at him, temporarily snagging his attention.

Plugging one of his feelers into the machine, Soundwave downloaded and internally examined the final set of updates while still staring Ratchet down.

So.  That was it, then.  That was what it meant.  That was why none of the Eradicons had seen the mech since Unicron’s appearance, and why Ratchet was so upset about him looking at the records.  Soundwave was no fool; he knew how long the Autobot had played lapdog to the Prime, and the biggest reason for it.  The loss would have been… devastating.  Beyond that of a mere leader.

Simple blueprints showing the opening of the Well appeared on his visor.

No Prime.

~*~

Ratchet didn't care what sort of fighter he was. There were no logical processes firing as he glowered at Soundwave from where he was standing. Everything was black-red anger. He shoved away from his support with a sharp rev when Soundwave began to check the most recent files.

"No…"

He couldn't even come up with a logical reason for wanting to keep the information from Soundwave. The mech would have to find out eventually, just like everyone else not currently in the know, but Ratchet had wanted it to be on his own terms. Optimus had been his friend. His lover, if he was truly honest, and that information had never become public knowledge.

Batting away one of the feelers hovering near his face, Ratchet started forward and slammed the heel of his palm against the scant few pieces of armor protecting Soundwave’s thoracic cavity. It wasn’t much but the satisfaction ripped through his field as he silently dared the mech to retaliate.

Part of him wanted it.

~*~

There was never any chance the medic’s wish would not come true.

Soundwave slid back on his heels with the blow, leaning forward to stop himself short; his immediate reaction was to grab the wrist of the servo that had surely put a small dent in his armor and wrench it away from himself while his free feeler curled around the Ratchet’s ankles and yanked until the mech fell to the floor.

He bent, then, and jabbed his thin digits through Ratchet’s protective abdominal grill, curling them to get a hold from inside.

With a wide sweep of his arm and the added force from his feeler, he sent Ratchet smashing back into the same wall and waited.

Let the medic try as many times as he wanted.  Soundwave needed the outlet it would provide.

~*~

The feel of Soundwave moving back with the force was enough. He felt the metal give under his palm as it dented and though he knew he would likely wind up having to pull it out later, Ratchet couldn't bring himself to care beyond the initial feeling of gratification.

Soundwave didn't give him time to protest the sudden grab at his wrist and shock rocketed through him. His equilibrium sensors glitched, relays from that servo to his shoulder going off as he hit the floor with a CLANG. His HUD flooded with warnings and he squeezed his optics shut to try and better control the reaction.

The scrape of thin digits between the metal of his grill to the protoform beneath and the resulting toss back against the wall had him growling. Core temperature warnings flashed bright orange and he pushed them aside as he stumbled back onto his pedes.

Ratchet didn't care that he was no match for Soundwave in a real fight. The mech had nearly taken out Megatron in their fateful first meeting in the Pits. None of it mattered.

He started toward Soundwave again, fully expecting to be thrown back again and not caring. Soundwave was going to have to do more than toss him across the room to stop him, stubborn determination overriding logic and self-preservation.

~*~

Interesting.  Ratchet could not possibly be ignorant of his past; he’d spread that story himself in the early days of the war in order to sow fear in the Autobot ranks.  And yet, the mech kept popping up to try and fight back.

With Optimus dead, he could see no military reason for Ratchet to continue to behave like this.  Without dark energon, nothing would bring the Prime back - no battle triumph could pull his frame from the Core and no expression of need would undo the choice made.

And with Megatron himself having openly disbanded the Decepticons, there was no more war and no need to fear a new one.  Only Starscream would have thought to try, and he lay in pieces in the medbay.  No others would be foolish enough to risk a dangerous nighttime visit from the old gladiator for disobeying.

No.  Soundwave recognized the loyalties for what they were, having felt something like them himself more than once.  The medic was lashing out because of a… deeply personal pain.

Spinning to dodge the punch Ratchet threw, he grabbed the mech’s other arm and pulled back, twisting it upward.

How long had the two been lovers?  From before Earth?  Since the exodus?

He bent it harder, aiming to draw the sweet sound of a pained cry from his stubborn opponent.  

It had to have been some point after the Council meeting.  Soundwave knew how badly Ratchet had pined after the data clerk, and that nothing had happened by the time said war started.  Perhaps he was thinking about it all wrong, and they’d never acted on it at all?  It would have been just like the two fools to agree to put their feelings aside until the fighting was over.

Or, rather, for the Prime to suggest it and the medic to keep from arguing the matter because of his blind devotion.

He almost laughed.

Instead, he jammed his knee guard up into Ratchet’s spinal strut and then let go, shoving the mech forward a short ways.

~*~

It didn't matter when the line between them had been crossed, only that it had and the selfish hastiness of that relationship had left Ratchet reeling. His spark was still weak from the loss. Not only because Optimus had been one of his last remaining friends from before the war but because the Prime had taken part of Ratchet with him when he’d chosen to kill himself.

And no amount of “no choice” would convince him that it had been anything but a suicide.

The life he cared most about.

His own certainly hadn't mattered enough.

That thought was enough to distract the medic and allow Soundwave to catch hold of him again. His shoulder joint protested the motion as he stumbled with the sudden movement and the limits of his frame. Neglect from deca-cycles of mourning showed in the trembling of his body and he tried to keep from crying out.

One more sharp pull on the joint had him shouting as pain rocketed through his neutral net and lit up every sensor in its path. The knee to his lower back was just white noise in the static of sensation and instead of catching himself when Soundwave released him, he let gravity drop him down to the floor.

The passing desire to stay there shot through him even as he scrambled to push himself back up. It curled around his spark like warm comfort, the thought so clear and at the forefront of his thoughts that he was certain Soundwave would hear it. Shame kept him from moving for a fraction of a microsecond and then he swung around suddenly, aiming a fist blindly for any part of the slate blue armor he could reach.

~*~

Hear it he did, the pathetic thought confirming his suspicions - and then some.  That wasn’t just the lament of someone who’d only begun to approach companionship with another.  There was more to that pain than mere pining.

The fool.

Ratchet’s fist crashed into his lower left arm, causing it to twist painfully at the elbow joint.  Soundwave danced backward, the vibrations from the powerful impact briefly numbing his arm.

He returned the blow with a stomp, meaning for Ratchet to stay on the ground.  It was where the medic wanted to be, wasn’t it?

~*~

"No," he forced out at the blow to his pauldron. The metal gave under the force and crumpled downward to cut into his shoulder. Deep enough to make him groan with the pain.

He was the only senior medical officer on this planet. Knock Out was Velocitronian and his medical experience was cosmetic. He could replace a limb but when it came to the ins and outs of coding and the fine detail work of the neural network, he was lost. First Aid and Medix were junior medics and still had vorns of training they needed before they could call themselves doctors.

I know where I am needed.

And then there was the voice in the back of his processor that sounded suspiciously like Optimus. Live. Everything hurt. His spark pulsed erratically as he got to his pedes again, shoulder twinging with agony. He glared up at the blank mask that hid Soundwave’s face.

"No, Soundwave."

~*~

Up again, despite the desire to stay down.  In spite of the pain Soundwave knew had to have existed from the broken bond.  Regardless of his ability to crush the medic and keep him on the floor.

Now there was a proper fighter.

Too bad he’d always been an Autobot.

Soundwave repeated his action from earlier, firing both feelers out to slam Ratchet against the opposite wall and pin him.  He stalked forward to follow them until he was within headbutting distance, aware that he risked a quick stab in the side from one of the medic’s scalpels, and loomed like a cybercat with a cornered glitch-mouse.

If he wanted, he could destroy the mech.  It would be easy - a bladed hand through the side, a clawed feeler drilling straight through chest plating and spark chamber, or a sharp wrenching and disconnecting of the helm - and while it was possible for Ratchet to give a mortal wound just before being terminated, he would still win.

The very thought sent a small thrill crawling up his spinal strut.  It would be a worthy way to go.

Soundwave leaned closer, contemplating the most likely placement of important fuel lines below the thin metal plates protecting Ratchet’s neck cabling, ventilation systems giving one sharp huff.

And then he stepped back and turned aside, lifting a spindly servo to point at the door.

~*~

The same thoughts spun through Ratchet’s processor as he was pinned into place. He should have been able to at least make an attempt to get out from under the force pressing him into the wall but the strain on already weakened systems was too much.

His HUD flashed red with warnings as he tried to reset his equilibrium sensors and confirm that he was still upright. Soundwave stepping closer had his engine stalling, uncertainty flooding his field as he stared at the mask over the other mech’s face. He transformed his right servo into a blade in warning as Soundwave leaned closer.

Too close.

Ventilating slowly to dispel heat, he scowled and waited silently for Soundwave to do something. The scalpel trembled against his thigh. Being dismissed wasn’t what he expected and he sagged briefly back against the wall and let his systems settle.

"The next time you need to know something," he snarled, drawing up the last few dredges of anger he had, "ask.”