1"Have yourself a merry little Christmas . . . let your heart be light . . . from now on our troubles will be out of sight . . ."
The music reverberated throughout the entire Ark, though the Christmas celebration had long since wound down. Ironhide did not mind, though. The music itself had been muffled since he had entered his private quarters and he lay on his recharge berth, his fingers interlaced behind his head. Silence was golden, the humans said, but the Ark had been anything but silent throughout the day.
'At least it's over,' he thought drowsily, allowing his optics to droop slightly. Granted, with a new year approaching, he figured there probably would be more celebrations approaching – Spike had told them that there were New Year's parties as well Christmas ones – but the next few Terran days were probably going to be quiet. Everyone needed some time to recover, after all. And thankfully, the Decepticons had been quiet. Ironhide doubted that they had even bother to celebrate an Earthen holiday but the image of Megatron wearing a Santa Claus hat made him chuckle a bit.
'Not like it'll ever happen but it's still amusing anyway . . . Wonder where Chromia's at now . . . I miss her . . .'
With that final thought, he closed his optics, blissful darkness overtaking him . . .
* * *
"Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, snow is glistening. A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight . . . walking in a winter wonderland . . ."
Ironhide sighed contentedly as he wrapped his arms around the pale blue Femme that rested against him. It felt good, holding her, and it felt right. He had always somehow known that she was the only Femme for him. She had a temper, same as him, but it had been evened out by her cool and calm logic, something that she had plenty of for the both of them.
"What is it the humans say to others on this particular?" she murmured somewhat lazily.
"Merry Christmas," he chuckled. "They say Merry Christmas to each other on this day and the days before it."
"Merry Christmas . . ." she rolled the phrase over. "A day of peace . . ."
"Yes," Ironhide nodded. "A day of peace. Supposedly, that is. It isn't always."
"Given that humans can produce offspring like petro rabbits, I wouldn't think so. I'm just glad that ours are mature enough to be on their own!"
To that, they both laughed then fell silent. In the room adjoining theirs, the sounds of conversation flowed in. Ironhide turned his head to listen. Not to the actual words themselves but to make sure that everything remained all right. The Decepticons had remained quiet for the past week, putting nearly everyone in the base on edge. Nearly everyone except his children and his mate.
"They're fine, Ironhide," Chromia chided. She grasped his chin with one hand, guiding his head so that they gazed at each other. "It's just both sets of the twins in there . . . You know how unlikely it is for any of them to argue with each other. Even if they do, they keep it to themselves."
"Someone might show up," he pointed out.
"You still don't need to watch over them. They're capable of taking care of themselves," she stated, her tone firm.
"Which is why you were listening to?" Ironhide teased. He loved the relaxed moments that they could share. Having fought in the war for so long, such moments were a rarity, even when they were together so he savoured each moment when the opportunity presented itself. It felt nice, after all, to not have to worry about the Decepticons or anyone else.
"Oh hush," Chromia admonished before kissing him . . .
* * *
Ironhide opened his optics to find that he was alone. Chromia and their children had not been there. They probably never would be if the war continued on as it did. But it had not made the dream any less real. He had felt Chromia in his arms and her lips against his. It did nothing ease any of his loneliness, however. His family felt like it would forever be out of his reach.
'That isn't true,' he told himself. 'I can always search for 'At'prafen and 'At'pren . . . couldn't be too hard to find them, either. But it would take time . . . and time isn't something can be afforded to anyone right now. Not with a war going on. And Chromia's been declared dead, though I don't truly believe it.' At his morose thoughts, Ironhide sighed. Spike had explained to everyone that Christmas was a time for family and friends to be with each other, and to celebrate each other's company, depending on which worldview one wanted to take. If he were truthful with himself, he knew what he would wish for if they stayed on Earth and continued to celebrate this holiday they call Christmas.
'One day . . . I'll make that dream I had come true. I swear it. Until then, I can never give up hope. Never.'
* * *
Chromia paused in her typing for one moment and exhaled softly, a weary sound. Then she rubbed at her optics, the strain of staring at the screen for so long finally catching up with her. Not getting enough recharge was also working against the Femme, but she could not help it. Every time she tried to rest, every time her optics closed, she saw Ironhide. Loneliness reflected in his optics, a loneliness that echoed deep within her soul, and she could not bear to see such emptiness in Ironhide. To see it was to feel it, to feel it was to let it turn from loneliness into despair, and the last thing Chromia wanted was to despair. She wanted to cling to the hope that he knew she was alive and well and waiting for him to return to Cybertron. Chromia also wanted to cling to the belief their children were still alive as well, wandering the universe aimlessly but ready to come home as well, which why she sat at the console, searching.
The light blue Femme exhaled softly again and closed her optics. Alpha Trion's computer held no answers for her. It never did, even though she desperately required them, and she wanted to punch the blasted thing for not providing her what she needed.
As she closed her optics, Chromia's mind wandered to the last time she had caught a decent recharge session and the dream it had brought her. A light smile touched her features.
The dream itself had actually not been unpleasant. If anything, it had warmed her, soothed her spirit, and it had enabled her to continue her search.
In her dream, she was with Ironhide wherever he was, and the twins were with them as well. Some strange custom was being celebrated, and they were laying next to each other, their arms the other's body. They were listening to the sounds outside Ironhide's quarters, and they were warm, content, at peace, though it did not stop either of them from feeling protective of their offspring. It had been a nice vision, one she would not mind truly living. Anything was better than hiding in tunnels and stealing energy from the enemy.
"Chromia? Are you feeling all right?"
At the sound of Alpha Trion's voice, the light blue Femme opened her optics and sat straight in her chair. She nodded, blinking her optics to adjust them.
"Yes," she murmured. "I'm fine. Just . . . weary."
"That is understandable," the ancient Mech replied. He sat on a nearby junkpile. "It is not easy for you to remain hidden. You are a Femme of combat. You always have been, and you always will be."
"I can accept remaining hidden," Chromia said. She stretched a little, feeling a few things pop as she did so. "It's how we are being most useful and aiding our cause. Believe it or not, I can accept that."
"So why are you weary then?" Alpha Trion asked. She shrugged, exhaling again.
"I miss him," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I miss him and the twins more than what I ever thought I would. I don't even know where he's at right now or if he's even thinking of me."
The ancient Autobot nodded, his expression one of sympathy and understanding. He offered her a faint smile.
"Well, perhaps I can help with part of that," he said. "I just came from Iacon."
"Really? What's the news from there?" she asked. Hopefully, she would also have something to pass on to her fellow Femmes. Primus only knew how much they could use some good news. It was one thing they constantly lacked.
"They're alive," Alpha Trion said.
For a moment, Chromia stared at him, her optics blinking. She wondered who he meant by 'they' then the realization settled. Suddenly, she no longer felt exhausted.
"They're . . . alive?" she squeaked out. "How . . ."
"Yes, they are alive," he said, chuckling. "I know it has been many, many vorns since they've left, but communications have finally been established between Iacon and Optimus Prime. In fact, I spoke with Optimus myself. He says they are all doing well, including Ironhide. I daresay, though, Ironhide's a little ornier than ever, but it is to be expected from someone like him. However . . ."
Chromia felt her air intakes hitch at the "however", and a sense of despair washed over her. She knew what the "however" meant. The Autobot Femmes were still believed to be dead, and Ironhide was bound to be told the news sooner or later, if he did not know already. It frustrated her because there were things she wanted to tell him, things she needed to say. Their parting had not been on the best of terms, and there were words she regretted ever saying to Ironhide.
"They think we're still dead," she murmured, slumping. It was all she could to refrain from crying, and anger surged through her systems. "This isn't fair. It isn't right."
"It is for a reason, Chromia," Alpha Trion said, his tone reassuring. "When the time is right, the Autobot Femmes will rise from the dead to join the fight once more. Your day will come, my dear. I promise."
"I don't think I can accept that," Chromia said, shaking her head. "He promised he wouldn't be gone long. Yet he has been. It's been too long. He probably doesn't even think of me anymore."
"Oh, I doubt that," Alpha Trion said, smiling. "I had a chance to speak with Optimus in private. He told me he has informed Ironhide of your death. It would seem, however, that our favourite grouchy Mech is refusing to believe that you are gone."
"He isn't my favourite grouchy Mech," Chromia pointed out. Alpha Trion raised an optic at her statement.
"He isn't?" the old Mech murmured. "That is quite puzzling, Chromia, especially since you have done nothing but speak of him lately."
"He isn't the only important Mech in my life," she murmured, averting her gaze. "There are others, you know."
"Ah yes," Alpha Trion said, nodding. "I have not forgotten about them, either, and I know you miss them terribly right now. However, something tells me you have a deeper connection to Ironhide right now, and it goes more beyond simply missing him."
"And maybe you're reading too much into this," she replied back. "I just miss him, and I miss the twins. That's all."
"I can imagine that you do," he said. The ancient Mech rested a hand on her shoulder. "And I know it isn't easy for you, but please have faith and hope for just a little while longer. Things will turn out in the end. You'll see. Now go on and head back before Elita-1 starts to worry."
Chromia managed a bare nod and pushed herself into a standing position. Her muscle cables ached in protest, but she chose to ignore such a triviality. She had been sitting for too long, anyway. It was only natural her body protested any movement, and the ache would pass before long.
As she headed for the door, a phrase entered Chromia's mind, and it was accompanied by strange sounds and a voice she did not recognize.
"I'll be home for Christmas . . . if only in my dreams . . ."
* * *
"Silent night . . . holy night . . . all is calm . . . all is bright . . ."
As far as his optics could see, the night sky was clear and unusually dark. The stars resembled tiny diamonds in the blackened expanse, and, for a brief moment, the world as Ironhide saw it was at peace. He was at peace, and he felt fairly certain his current sense of calm was related to the dreams he kept having of Chromia and the four youngsters they called their children. For some reason, he thought of them more lately than he had since his awakening on Earth, and his memories rekindled feelings he thought he had long since forgotten. A light and rare smile touched the Mech's features.
"We'll be together again," he murmured. "I promise."