The Past The Present

Who Cares?

Back at base same time

As Ratchet repaired Soundwave's injuries the monitor beeped.

"What is it?"

"It's a recording..." Arcee answered, pushing a button on the console.

"Hello?...thi- is son...strom if ou ca- hea- e ..i in ne- ..f a..groundbridge" a staticy and fuzzy message came through.

"Is that Sonicstorm?" Arcee asked.

"It could be, she might be in trouble" Optimus said. "Open a groundbridge to the Arctic."

"But Optimus it could be Decepticons." Bulkhead rejected.

"The Decepticons do not know of Sonicstorm's presence. It is a low threat if the Decepticons know she's here."

"Alright Optimus comm. us if it's Decepticons" Arcee said, opening a groundbridge and he entered.

Arctic

I sat there, frost covering my frame, my systems fighting to stay online. I looked up as I heard a groundbridge open and watched as a familiar tall red mech walked through.

"Finally, I was wondering if you got the message. My comm. froze so I was having difficulties with contacting base."

"It is alright Sonicstorm at least you're still online." He answered, picking me up bridle style and re-entered the groundbridge. On the other side the others rushed over.

"Are you ok Sonicstorm?"

"Told you, you couldn't take it that long."

"Will she be alright?"

I chuckled weakly as Optimus carried me to the med-bay.

"This is not a laughing matter, Sonicstorm, you could of offlined." Ratchet scolded as he attended to me.

"Who cares about my health, Ratchet? No one ever did before."

"I am a medic it's my duty to worry about all patient's health."

"Even me?" I asked my blue optics fading back to their violet shade as I was forced into stasis.

I onlined a week later still in the med-bay, no one was in there at the moment but me... and Soundwave.

Soundwave was in a tank of cybernetic acid, the fastest way to heal him, his visor couldn't be fixed, so while he was in there I got the best view of his face for the first time in a long time....I only ever seen his face once before. And I've heard that many believed he didn't have one, but he did have a face.

His faceplates were a light gray, his lip components was in a firm compressed line, if it was closed that is but his mouth was slightly open, and his optics shut; his body jerked every now and then, showing evidence that he was rather dreaming or going through memory files, reliving the important events in his life.