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When Optimus had sent him down into the Nemesis after the weird energy readings that both Teletraan-1 and the science team had picked up coming from there, Jazz hadn’t known exactly what to expect. He’d thought he’d find Screamer up to something weird, as usual, or maybe Shockwave paying a visit from Cybertron, but he hadn’t considered anything beyond that. Perceptor had said the energy signature was like nothing he had ever seen, with emphasis, and so Jazz went in and tried not to have expectations.
Which was good, because it meant he was confused right now instead of surprised, and he could work through confusion as long as he could find answers along the way. Surprise, though, that got mechs killed.
So he watched in confusion as Vortex approached a mech–white and blue, gold optics, a red Decepticon shield and strapped to a metal table–that definitely looked like Soundwave, except that Soundwave was right there, too. And looked as confused as Jazz felt.
“Dude,” the not-Soundwave said, voice scratchy like he’d been screaming before Jazz got to this section of the vents, “This is bogus. I don’t know what you want.”
“Well,” Vortex crouched down so that he was optic level with not-Soundwave on the table, “I want you to tell me the truth. Just… tell me. And then I won’t have to get… unpleasant with you.”
“I already did!” Not-Soundwave’s voice cracked as he shouted. “I already did, I don't know what else you want!”
Vortex sighed dramatically. “Wrong answer.”
And then he jammed something–probably an electroprod, from the way not-Soundwave convulsed–into the bound mech’s side and not-Soundwave screamed in pain for a moment before his vocalizer cut out in a spray of sparks.
Fraggit, he hadn’t come for a rescue, he’d come for information. He wasn’t prepared to extract this stranger, but he couldn’t leave him to Vortex’s non-existent mercy either. It looked like their answers were gonna have to wait.
Quietly, Jazz activated the signal to detonate the explosive he’d set to cover his extraction. Immediately, an alarm began to blare and both Soundwave and Vortex looked up with irritated postures. Then Vortex stood up, tossed his electroprod onto his table of tools and patted not-Soundwave on the cheek.
“Wait here, we’ll be right back.” Vortex told the bound mech. Then he and Soundwave walked through the door.
Jazz counted to ten just to be sure they were gone, then he cut through the vent and slid into the interrogation room. Not-Soundwave turned to look at him with a dim visor, which immediately brightened into fear and a struggle to get away.
“Shh, shh, I’m here to get you out mech.” Jazz creeped closer and that just made the mech thrash harder. Primus below, what had they done to the poor bot to make him so scared? “Just calm down, all right? I’ll untie you and–”
One of the straps broke and not-Soundwave flailed his arm outward. It struck Jazz across the cheek, denting the metal and chipping the lower edge of his visor. Jazz caught the other mech’s arm before he could do any more damage, and held it firm as not-Soundwave tried to pull it back.
“Fraggit mech, I said I'm bustin’ you out! Calm down before someone hears you!”
Not-Soundwave did not calm down.
“All right, new plan.” He didn’t want to do this, because it would be much easier to escape if the mech could move under his own power, but if he was this panicked, they wouldn’t make it off the ship before both of them were captured.
So, Jazz popped open one of not-Soundwave’s access panels, pulled out his own data cable with his denta and plugged in quickly. He was met with shredded firewalls, looked like Soundwave’s work, a seriously walled off memory core and… bingo! He found the mech’s operational systems and the code string that would let him drop the mech into a shutdown.
He activated it, and relaxed when the other mech’s frame finally went limp. Then he got to work untying the mech and calling his ride to an airlock closer to the interrogation room. Cause there was no fragging way Jazz was going to be able to drag a mech this size across the ship without being noticed.
-_-_-_-_-
Soundwave came online screaming.
He didn’t remember going offline, to be honest, but he did remember seeing either Jazz or Ricochet coming up beside him and promising to help him escape–probably to just kill him somewhere else–and that had just put the oil on top of the cake for how badly his day had gone. He knew he’d hit the Autobot, he’d felt Jazz-or-Ricochet’s faceplate dent inward, but then he’d been grappled and he’d fallen offline before he knew what was happening.
But now he was awake and Ratchet the Hatchet was leaning over him with a smile and it was just too much.
He kept screaming, almost drowning out a voice saying, “Ratch, he’s gonna blow this one, too!”
“I know that, Wheeljack!” Ratchet was putting his hands on him and Soundwave flinched back as far as he could, into soft padding and an actual medical berth and…
No one had had the resources to build actual berths in ages. No one had pillows anymore, not that they had ever needed them. No one had soft lights and gentle music playing over a speaker system anymore.
Ratchet’s hands were gentle where they touched him, like Hook’s.
The scream in his vocalizer tapered off. “Dude, what is going on?”
“We don’t really know,” Ratchet replied gently. “We were hoping you could tell us.”
“Aw man, I haven’t got a clue.” Hesitantly, he scanned the room and was relieved when the system functioned correctly and returned a result of four mechs and a lot of equipment. “Where… How did I get here?”
“You’re at the Autobot base, in Oregon.” Soundwave felt a new flicker of fear at Ratchet’s words, but the mech’s hands were still so gentle as they checked him for new damage as he spoke. “On Earth. Jazz rescued you before Vortex could do any more damage than he already had. And I repaired you while you were offline.”
Ratchet sent him a file wirelessly, and Soundwave accepted it cautiously. It was a damage report when he opened it, along with a repair list and timestamps for when each repair had been done. The timestamps didn’t mean anything to him, beyond the fact that everything had been done in what looked like a relatively short period of time, but it was nice to have at least a little bit of data.
“That was Jazz then and not Ricochet?” he finally asked after a moment. Not that it would matter, if these Autobots were actually as kind as this Ratchet was being.
“Definitley. Ricochet just came out of stasis from the crash and is in no shape to be rescuing Decepticon prisoners.”
“Okay.” Soundwave nodded, mostly to himself, and catalogued the information. He didn’t know if it would help him, but right now he needed to know everything he could. “Could you, like, tell me–”
Soundwave forgot his question as a huge mech–red and blue with white accents instead of the familiar purple and black he knew but that face was the same even if the optics were warm blue and he was scrambling off the berth and onto the floor before he was conscious of it–stepped up to the medical berth. Optimus Prime froze, hands held out to his sides to show they were empty, and his optics crinkled downward like he was frowning.
Soundwave used the pause to scramble into the meagre cover provided by the next berth in line.
“Don’t take it personal, Prime.” The voice was familiar, and Soundwave peeked around the berth to see Jazz coming up beside the big mech. His face was still dented and his visor had a crack in it, where Soundwave had broken it. “I get the feeling that he ain’t quite ready for you yet.”
“I agree, Jazz.” Optimus sighed. “I had only hoped to ask if he had seen any of our missing mechs.”
Soundwave considered the Prime’s words and the situation he was caught in. Enemies who should be friends, allies where there should have been enemies, terrifying medics with the gentlest hands, a Jazz who wanted to help instead of hurt… Soft blue optics and red Autobot badges, just like… “You mean like Cliffjumper?”
“Yes!” Optimus sounded elated, and that was enough to convince him to come out.
Soundwave looked up at the Autobots around him and told himself to trust, the way Cliffjumper had trusted him. “Yeah, he’s back home with Megatron and my little dudes.”
“Thank Primus,” Optimus whispered.
“That’s real good to hear, mech,” Jazz smiled.
-_-_-_-_-
Once everything was laid out–the parallel universes, the space bridge/stellar spanner accidents, the lost mechs–it all started to make sense. Soundwave had somehow ended up in Cliffjumper’s universe, cut off from everyone he knew and loved and forced to rely on his friend’s friends for safety and shelter. It was weird, and he had a lot more sympathy for how CJ had felt when they patched him up.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jazz sat down next to him and held out an energon cube.
Soundwave took the fuel and held it between his hands for several Earth seconds. “I miss Megatron. I miss Ravage and my other cassettes. I keep thinkin’ this is just a gnarly dream and I'm gonna wake up back home, runnin’ on fumes and trying not to get shot in the face by Ironhide.”
“Well, I can’t help with the Ironhide thing ‘cept to promise that my Hide won’t shoot you,” Jazz paused for a sip of his fuel, “But I can promise that we’ll get you home as soon as we can. Percy and Sky are figuring out how to use that energy signature to home in on your universe an’ then we’ll get you back to your cassettes asap.”
“Thanks, dude.” Soundwave stared down into his fuel for a moment longer before taking a drink.
Slowly, carefully, Jazz reached out and put a hand on Soundwave’s shoulder. Soundwave glanced over at it for a second before letting himself lean into the comfort–this Jazz didn’t have claws and that made it easier to remember he was safe. “I mean it, mech. I mean, I wouldn't want to go back to the world you told us about, but that’s your home and we’ll get you back to it. Back to the people you love.”
“I hope so, but Megatron and Starscream didn’t have a clue.”
“That’d just be situation normal, here.” Jazz laughed softly. “You wanna tell me ‘bout ‘em? I have it on good authority that I'm a decent listener.”
“Not now, but thanks. Mostly I want to recharge. That was one bogus journey and I’m tired.”
“Sure, no problem. You mind Cliffjumper’s room for now? We still ain’t got a lot of space otherwise.”
“Sounds good to me, dude. I can leave him a present for when he gets home, even.”
“That’s the spirit.” Jazz squeezed his shoulder, then drank the rest of his cube and stood up. “Come on, I'll show you the way.”
“Thanks. For this, and the rescue.”
“No problem at all, mech. No problem at all.”