"I'm so tired of being here, suppressed by all of my childish fears, and if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave because your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone."

Ironhide sighed as he stared at the ceiling. Neisha and Destini had long since settled into a recharge cycle after a full day of driving everyone in the command center, including Optimus Prime, crazy. He smiled to himself. They were only two, after all, and had been filled with an insatiable curiosity.

'Just like 'At'prafen and 'At'pren were at that age,' he mused fondly. 'Chromia would have loved these two . . .'

Chromia. He hadn't meant to think of her yet that's all he had ever been able to do. Her memory left him hollow and void, even after a hundred years. And he saw her no matter where he went or whom he talked to. He saw her whenever he talked with Prime or Elita or whenever he saw his oldest children strolling about the City, arm in arm with their own mates . . . he saw her in Neisha and Destini.

He shook that mental image out of his head. There was no way he could see Chromia in those two girls. Chromia had died a hundred years ago and Stealth had told him that the scans came up with two unknowns for the girls. Yet . . . he couldn't deny it. He saw Chromia in them as much as he saw it whenever he looked at his own children. Time ticked by slowly . . .

"These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real, there's just too much that time cannot erase. When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears. When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears. I held your hand through all of these years. But you still have . . . all of me."

Ironhide sighed softly as his fingers laced themselves together behind his head. He'd been mortally wounded by Chromia in a way that he'd never heal. One hundred years had proven that.

'I guess I always took for granted that she'd be there . . . where I could see her and feel her . . . I never had to pretend with her . . . even when it seemed like she'd been broken down and defeated . . . I stayed by her. The only thing I could do and when she was gone . . . she took me with her.' Ironhide sighed once more and rolled onto his side, his optics immediately landing on a picture.

Pictures. That's all he had left of Chromia, along with his memories. Somehow, they had captivated each other, though what she ever saw in him puzzled Ironhide. She had been the intelligent one, cool and logical and able to formulate battle plans quickly.

'She'd have been better off with Prowl,' he mused to himself. 'At least . . . at least she'd still be alive if she were . . . I must be going insane.'

"You used to captivate me by your resonating mind. Now I'm bound by the life you left behind. Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams. Your voice has chased away all the sanity in me."

Sounds of movement from Neisha and Destini's room caught his attention and Ironhide pushed himself up. Such sounds usually indicated nightmares, something both girls seemed prone to. Quietly, he shuffled out of his room and into theirs.

'And if it weren't for them arriving when they did, I probably would have lost it,' he mused as he checked in on them. 'Probably would have tried to end my life right then and there . . . only to have Stealth or Ratchet patch me up then commit me.'

When he got into their room, however, he saw nothing out of the ordinary and both girls were off-line in peaceful recharge cycles. He frowned as he looked at them.

'Could've sworn I heard one of them moving . . . Must have been wishful thinking on my part . . . Ah well.'

As quietly as he came, Ironhide walked out of their room and back into his. Just as he sat back down, he heard the same noise again. One of the girls was definitely thrashing around and whimpering in her sleep.

"I tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone. But though you're still with me, I've been alone all along."

Ironhide frowned as he listened for, as soon as the whimpering and thrashing started, it ceased. His frown deepened when he thought he heard a voice coming from their room. Chromia's voice.

'Can't be Chromia . . . She's gone . . . She's been gone . . .'

Still frowning, Ironhide walked into the room and looked around once more. Like before, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Both girls were sleeping contentedly . . . though Destini looked as if she were smiling about something. Ironhide smiled gently at the sight.

'Sweet kid . . . Acting like 'At'pren when he was that age . . . Primus, Chromia, I miss you . . .'

Certain that his daughters would sleep the remainder of the night, Ironhide retired to his own room for the night, memories dancing at the edge of his memory.

Finis