A/N: Sorry for the super massive lateness of this chapter. I'm home from my trip, so I'll try to catch up now. I just have a lot of work to do at the moment.

I originally wrote this chapter with a certain mindset and then completely changed it 180 and didn't like it so I rewrote it again. Thus, this chapter didn't want to come into existence and was writer's hell. Anyways, it's done, enjoy, and I apologize for grammatical errors but I am behind schedule so I'm kind of rushing to catch up. Also, I made a reference to one of the Comics in here. Cookies to anyone who can figure out which issue!

Also, thanks to my guest reviewer on ch. 3 for another wonderful story recommendation.

"I can't let go.
I'm addicted to your torture. I'm a prisoner to the pain.
Although you're gone, All the misery remains.

I do my best.
Everyday just keeping busy, to avoid the ghost of you.
But when I rest, there is nothing I can do.

My eyes are closing and I'm scared, cause I only dream of you.
You're a beautiful nightmare, and nothing can wake me up from you.

I gave you love, gave you everything you asked for
And this is what I get. The silence only fills my head with noise."

Beautiful Nightmare - Skylar Grey

Time increment NOTE: I've changed orbital cycles to rotational cycles because it simply makes more sense. Orbital cycles were used in animated for days but realistically it implies a year, and it bothers me. Rotational cycles would be more akin to earth days.

Chapter 4: Another Time, Another Place


"Be safe." The warm words echoed in her mind before anything else seemed to make any sense.

Alarms were blaring, echoing throughout the level and causing her audio receptors to ring. Is that why they were ringing?

Hazy, bright sterile lights glowed in her vision, blinding her as her processor attempted to come to. Information seemed to be pouring in, but none of it seemed to process. A last stand, she felt it, rather than heard. The blasting sounds of cannons startled her attention back to the front. Through the door. Her visor systematically shot down. She could feel her limbs subconsciously transforming in response, a proclivity towards action trained into her like a second nature, preparing to repel the invaders.

Time. She felt it, echoing in her spark as she stepped out into the hall. Time. She needed more time. They needed more time.

She pulled a grenade from her subspace and methodically tossed it down the hallway to gain a footing. Without even truly seeing where she aimed, she shot off round after round, reeking havoc on any remaining enemies within her line of fire. She watched, not entirely focused as energon blasts tore through the rickety walling of the hallways. Artificial lighting was blown away. The luminescence of incendiaries, pulse cannons and riffles provided the only remaining but fluctuating source of light. Smoke filled the air, making her ventilation systems kick into overdrive, catching every once in a while on the dust as the brilliance of the energy blasts tore through what was left of the deck, so disturbingly reminiscent of that last mission before returning to the colony.

The cries of pain from her foes brought her no cheer. She needed time. More time. Anxiety built as she heard her enemies yelling to organize themselves against her. She was doing well, all on her own... but this didn't feel well. There were too many. She needed more time.

Flashes stopped as advancing Cons poured through the choke point, far too many to drive back. she found her weighted frame automatically moving behind the doorway of the adjacent room, taking cover while shooting off blast after blast without hesitation. As long as she could keep them from overwhelming her, as long as she could keep them out of melee distance, she should be able to repel them… wait...that didn't feel right… Energon blasts pounding against the doorway brought her attention back to the front. She had to move.

Time. Time. The little voice in her mind chanted. It felt so distant. So strangely apart from herself. Like it was its own little entity now, separate from her consciousness which it seem to have been linked to before.

She slammed her fist into the access paneling of the doorway, attempting to jam the controls, but the doors were to damaged to respond. She cursed, instead planting a grenade against the door way and quickly moving to new cover. Moving farther into the bay, she took shelter behind a console as close to the sub-room as she could manage. As soon as the cons crowded passed the doorway, she flipped the switch to trigger the grenade. Thanks for that one Jackie! Jackie? Jackie...Wheeljack? For the third time, her wondering mind was brought back to the present by Con fire.

Did she make enough time?

Shaking off the daze, she could feel the drain on her systems from the large amount of spent cannon fire. A small semblance of fear began to set into her spark as the reality of the situation became more and more clear as each klik passed. She was running out of time, but she never once stopped firing. It was like she was on autopilot, systematically destroying her enemies. But it was the words that set her mind ablaze.

:We're good! Lets go!: Words across a bond. So familiar to her battle hazed mind. Her thoughts wouldn't let them go this time, even as her body reacted and continued firing. She watched in confusion as the scene continued on without her command, without her involvement. Words passed over the bond again, but she could not hear them; they were out of focus, like muffled conversations behind the booming cannon fire.

Finally, the doors to the sub-room open just long enough to admit her entrance and then close again to provide her with a momentary klik to ventilate her systems. The air was still clear in here. The haze shifted and began to settle. The noises died down. Time seemed to stop as she realized that she was in her arms. Not her arms. His arms. Her strangely larger form wrapped around her self. But it wasn't her. It was another her. She panicked. That wasn't right! She knew. She knew what would happen. Not the Nova she tossed into the pod. She knew why. She chose this. No, not her. Him. He knew. He chose.

Her frame rushed to the console to confirm the pod's release and send a message towards Earth. Her last hope. His last hope. She could feel the confusion and pain over the bond hit her like a thousand tons of cybermatter. She felt her spark...no, his spark flood with worry as doubt, fear, and anxiety settled in. She could feel her consciousness finally separating from his as the cons begun to burn through the reinforced door. Did I make the right call? He had asked himself. So much confusion.

"Stand down." One ordered as the cons broke into room. Her large frame slowly turned with arms raised. "You put up a valiant fight, misguided as it was, but its over now….Get him on his knees." She had become fully aware, but could still feel everything as though they were one, his love as he reassured her through the bond, and his rage as he glared daggers at the con, all the while searing the imagine of that dark and hideous mech into his mind, into his spark and into her own.

:Only one of us was going to make it out of here, and we both knew it wasn't going to be me. You'll be fine Nova. You will survive. You're strong.: She could feel his faith, his hope and...and his fear. Fear for her. Fear for what would become of her without him there to protect her.

No. She pleaded against the bonds that held her here.

"I surrender. You win." The words formed without her permission. NO! Nova yelled in her mind, reeling as the red battle worn body before her disobeyed. Because it wasn't her body to command. Certainty, uncertainty, they both spiraled within him. Struggling and bashing against whatever restraints held her, she could feel herself constrained, her efforts useless here. she could not change what was happening.

"Surrender or not, I'm afraid this is the end of the line for you Autobot. Attach the device." Furious optics did not break from his captor, and Nova felt overwhelmed by pride witnessing his resolve, while resolving herself to see this through as he had.

:Till all are one.: Words echoed.

As the cons moved to attach the device, Nova could feel the anxiety building again within her spark, his spark. And as the clamps of the strange machine wrapped around her brother's frame, she could feel the words tumble from his lip platting, "Nova..."


[27 Hours After Impact.]

"STRIKER!" She screamed, loud enough to wake the base -she was sure- and launched up from her recharge with her spark pounding faster than a frightened turbofox being chased by a sparkeater. She vented heavily, trying to pull her mind into the present and calm her spark. The anxiety and the memories of it all were crushing down on her spark with all the weight of luna1.

She pulled herself over to the edge of the berth, cycling heavily in her too small of a room, trying to gain some baring back. It was a dream. It was all a dream. It wasn't...it couldn't have been… but it felt so….so…

Bam! Bam! A wrapping on her door startled her, gaining her attention. Flashes of cannon fire crossed her vision as the echos of their destruction replayed in her audio receptors. A voice sounded but she didn't catch what it had said, far too wrapped up in the images and sound bytes that felt too real.

Bam! Bam! It startled her again. "Nova? Are you okay?" Came the voice from the other side. She didn't know whose. She hadn't memorized them all. She stared at the door as the weight in her spark continued to cripple her while her sensors began to right themselves once more. Even with most of her emotional processes offline, she could feel the fluctuations coming from her spark, overloading some of her minor systems.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. She repeated it to her self like a mantra, trying to bring her frame to function and her mental processes under her control. She moved to the door as the loud knocking continued. She didn't respond at first, contemplating her options. Tell them what happened, or leave it be? No, there was no question.

Bam! Bam! "Nova?" The voice became more insistent.

"I'm fine!" She called back, prompted by the unease coming from the other side. "It was nothing." She assured them, keeping her vocals far more level than she currently felt.

"Are you sure? Nova, I heard you yelling..." The voice continued, sounding worried. She wondered if she had heard it before. Maybe the red one. His name alluded her.

"I'm fine!" She insisted again. She wasn't fine. She was the opposite of fine right now. But none of them had to know that. She needed some privacy. Some time to recover before she dealt with anymore company. "Go back to recharge." Surely it was still late in the night cycle. She felt as though she had just laid down. A quick check of her newly fixed chronometer confirmed it; she had been recharging for no more than an earth hour. It was only 3 am.

"Okay…" He paused, as though thinking of leaving her be. "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to get Ratchet?" The concern in his vocalizer was clear. If she hadn't other things on her mind she might have appreciated the thought, but for the moment it was only a burden to her.

Instead, she opened the door and slid out with a glare. "I said I'm fine!" She glowered, more for show of force than actual anger. Her patience was simply limited at the moment, and portrayed anger was effective in turning others away.

The bot she recognized as Mirage stumbled back, his surprise and confusion apparent. "Sorry. I just…. Wanted to make sure. I'll just go." He pointed away and awkwardly moved to leave as she vented a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

As the bot left audio range she carefully closed the door. She needed to collect herself, and quickly.

As she moved over to her berth, her processor hastily moved back to her previous conflict. Her dream. Striker. She felt her processor obsessing over what he was going to say, like it was running on over drive trying to decipher a code. It was all so confusing. In those last minutes, everything felt so clear. As clear as though she had been seeing everything through her own optics. she felt aware and she had felt like he was aware. Like they were both there in her dream together. Like they were connected again, like when he was alive.

But she didn't believe in ghosts.

Her spark fluctuated painfully. The weight was there again, in full force as though the bond had just been severed.

It wasn't real. She tried to reassure herself. It was a dream. She knew it had to be. But everything... It wasn't real. It wasn't real…

They felt like…

It wasn't…

Memories…

Was it?

Real?

The more she thought about it, the more it hurt. Before, it was just the shock that kept her from functioning, but now the physical spark pain and the burning out of her systems was becoming crippling.

She had two viable options. She could see the medic and admit she was glitching, or shut it out and go on pretending. On any other base she would have chosen option two, but could she really hide this from a Prime? Could she really pretend like nothing was bothering her, that Striker's absence, the absence of her twin, wasn't bothering her.

She scoffed at the thought. There were a lot of things that didn't bother her, but no bot could pretend that the loss of that kind of bond didn't eat their spark from the inside out. She needed help.

To go on pretending otherwise was pointless and stupid. And she was neither of those things. That didn't mean it didn't still hurt her pride to admit it though.


Nova couldn't even think about recharging again that night. The dream was still haunting her processor, and she wasn't ready to relive it again, but she also wasn't about to wake the medic in the middle of a night cycle either.

He seemed grumpy enough in the day cycle as it was.

But, she needed air. She needed out. She needed to stop thinking about it. She needed a lot of things, but none of them would make the pain go away. She felt empty. The pain in her spark would not settle, and the longer she sat there arguing with herself over the validity of her dream, the more it hurt. So, she quietly sneaked out of her room and down the hallway and when she got outside she stared back up at the stars, the stars she had just so recently seen, and when they only made the pain hurt worse, she knew she would have to see the medic soon.

Until then she needed something to keep her occupied. Anything to distract her.

At first, she found her distraction in the form of the wash racks. It had been so long since she had been able to properly clean her plating. As she scrubbed at her armor, she wished she could scrub the images and the pains away as well. She had no such luck.

The Autobots would be up soon, she reminded herself. She just had to keep herself busy a while longer.

Once she was sure her plating was spotless and properly waxed, she transformed down to her alt mode, thinking that perhaps a drive would be more effective in keeping her processor busy. Once she was set, she headed south along the island, all the while starting to regret sending away the concerned bot from before, but she had no intention of sharing her dream nor her pain with anyone, the medic being the only excusable exception. If Optimus thought she was concealing vulnerabilities that could impede her abilities, he would most likely not let her fight, and that was all she had left anymore.

As she reached the furthest south the island would allow she continued along the road to the north east side. Again, her thoughts refocused themselves on the face plates of the last bot in her dream. The bot she had seen before. Had she synthesized her dream from her own memories? It was a possibility. One she could ask the medic about later. For now, that one face haunted her, the one who killed him, the one she would end personally. She had made a promise, and she intended to keep it.

Looking out into the sea at the end of the land mass, she knew only one thing for certain: before her spark was extinguished, she would see all those responsible deactivated.

When the Earth's sun, Sol began to rise once more, Nova made her way back to the base. The other bots were already about, and the red one from before, -Mirage- didn't miss her off base entry. She tried to act as though she didn't notice, but he regarded her with something more than concern now. There was suspicion in his gaze, and considering her behavior earlier she couldn't honestly bring herself to blame him. At least he was being aware.

When she finally approached the medbay, she wondered if she had made a mistake. She didn't honestly want their help, and yet, at the same time she did. It was actually quiet confusing. All of it, everything that had happened was confusing, but it was logic that had her pedes moving towards the fourth hanger's doors. Seeing the medic was the logical thing to do.

"Doctor." Nova announced herself as she moved through the doors. She had to do this, she reminded herself. She had to get cleared if she ever wanted to step off base again.

"Nova?" Ratchet looked up at her, as though with mild disbelief. "I didn't expect to see you in here voluntarily. What brings you to me?" He asked, still working over the intricate portions of the heavy frame piece from the day before.

"A dream..." She cut to the point blandly.

The CMO moved away from his project with mild interest. "What kind of dream?" he inquired.

She delivered the information like a warrior at attention, but her words were hesitant. "A dreams of Striker, dying..."

"Are you experiencing any other symptoms?" The doctor droned.

She cringed at the thought. That's all this was to him, a symptom of spark break. Yes, She was. "I cannot recharge." She answered unemotionally. She probably could have, but she didn't know if she could handle watching it all again, being unable to change a thing. Once was enough. It was burned into her processor as it was.

"Anything else? Are you experiencing any pains with the dream?" He stood and made his way towards her, genuinely concerned now.

"Yes." She answered blandly.

Ratchet crossed his arms in frustration. Her answers were starting to become obtuse. "Nova, you're going to have to be more specific then yes or no answers. This isn't a survey. Tell me what happened."

She sighed. "The dreams are from Striker's optics. The battle on the Exodus before my l-...and after… all of it" she finally added, unwilling to acknowledge her -actual- part in it all. It made it hurt more, to know she was helpless in it all. "I see them, the cons after they broke into the shuttle bay." The medic listened attentively, "I saw it all in so much detail, it was like I was living through it." She sighed again, "and as it goes on it gets clearer, so clear I feel like I can feel him, as though he's there with me and the bond is open again."

"And when you wake up?" He questioned.

"It's like feeling him die all over again. My spark," She slouched, placing a servo over her chassis. The chaotic energy in her was overwhelming. "It's too much for my systems to take..." She vented heavily, her chassis felt as though a weight pressed heavily against her. "Just before I woke up, I could hear him call out to me," It wasn't even relevant but she found her self saying it all the same. A heavy frown settled over her lip plates and her optics burning into the concrete floor.

"You're experiencing acute spark stress reactions. These symptoms are not uncommon in severe trauma patients." The doctor moved to his main terminal and entered some commands before returning to her. Moments later, the terminal came to life and began to synthesis a solution. Ratchet guided her to one of the medical berths, urging her to sit.

He had sat across from her in a moving chair when she looked up at him finally, "It felt so real." She stated, as though it were really a question. "Why does it feel so real?" Her optics were pleading, betraying her lost state of mind.

He tried not to react as surprised as he felt. It was rare for a warrior to admit they needed help, especially one so new to their team as she was. She was vulnerable, and it seemed to him that her emotional subroutines were innately reactivating themselves to help relieve some of the stress on her other systems. "Such experiences are uncommon, but not unheard of." He had to be honest. "Under the circumstances I wouldn't be surprised if they were in fact memories."

"What?" She balked, so sure he would call the notion ridiculous. "What are you saying? That they are? They're real?"

"You're a twin Nova. I highly doubt you've never sent data between yourself and your brother. It wouldn't be impossible for you to have download that data before your bond was severed. In twins, it can be an instinctive response to danger. However, it doesn't surface often if the precipitating event is resolved. How long have you been experiencing this dream?"

"Last night was the first time." She answered. Every other dream had been from her perspective. That she could handle. Or maybe she couldn't but she had expected it. This? This was something entirely... It was too much.

"Did you recharge after waking from stasis before you arrived here?" His examination continued.

"No." She answered distantly, unable to focus enough to be concerned with his reasoning for asking.

"Hmm. That would make sense then." The medic's terminal in the background beeped before turning itself off once more.

"What's it mean? What was this dream supposed to tell me?" She wanted to make sense of it. She needed to feel in control again, and all the confusion wasn't helping.

Ratchet scoffed. "Absolutely nothing. It's not you -per se- whose recalling these memories, but your spark. The wound is still fresh. This dream you've had is likely the result of your spark going over the last data sets received in excruciating detail through your sub-processor. It is trying to make sense of what has happened to your bond connection and why it is no longer there. It hasn't had time to come to accept the loss you've experienced. Dreams like these are simply another symptom of spark break and ghost pains. They will fade with time."

She saddened at the thought. She didn't want Striker to fade. She didn't want to forget, not ever. She would take the dreams any day over not thinking about him for one klik. "And what if I don't want them to? Is there any way to make the pain stop, but keep the dreams?" Did she really just ask that? Was it really worth it? Did she really want to keep reliving -of all things- his death?

"Why in the world would you want to do that?" He jerked back, giving a heavily disapproving frown, one she returned.

"Do I really need to answer that?" Even as the dreams tortured her, she couldn't make herself wish them away. When she dreamt, it was like Striker was still there. For as long as the dream would permit, she could feel their connection, reliving those last moments as though they never passed. Until they did.

Ratchet scowled at her. "Even if there were, it would do more damage then good. You need to let him go and accept that he's gone. No loss is easy, but we have to move on, if for no other reason than for the one we've lost. For what it's worth, take solace in that the fact that he is in a better place in the well of all sparks, and that he does not have to suffer through this unending war any longer." The medic huffed.

"What are you suggesting then, Doctor?" She asked sourly.

"The dreams will fade with time as the spark comes to accept your separation. I can prescribe a sedative to help you recharge in the meantime." Ratchet walked over to the counter, opened a draw below the terminal and pulled out multiple tubes of a green liquid substance. "Add this to energon and consume it a cycle before recharging. It should prevent your sub-processor from recalling files and help your systems with defragmentation. When you run out, come see me for more. Have you re-enabled your emotional subroutines?"

"No" she answered honestly.

He grumbled irritably under his breath. "Enable them now. You need to adjust to having them online again. The longer they are offline, the worse it will be." He scowled at her. "Honestly, those subroutines are just as necessary as any other system. You cannot continue the way your going about right now. You're starting to burn out your systems," the medic grumpily complained.

It took a moment for her to respond. Assessing herself now, she had indeed caused some damage. "Yes." She muttered, acknowledging his request and bracing herself for the extreme discomfort as she switched the subroutines to their operational status.

"Take one of the sedatives now. I'll watch over you while you recharge." He motioned for her to lay down, before moving back over to his project.

She sighed. She never was quiet comfortable recharging in front of unfamiliar bots, especially now. But the CMO didn't seem as though he would give her a choice, and as he held her clearance in his hands, it was necessary. She took the vials and sub-spaced all but one. She emptied it into her tanks and laid back on the berth, enabling her recharge protocols.


It was well into the next day when she finally woke felling hazy and slowed, almost like the memories that had clouded her in the beginning of her dream, but this wasn't a memory and she wasn't recharging. Her sensors slowly identified the marking of the hanger's designation, the medical bay. She had been recharging as she recalled.

Her systems were calm and she circulated air easier. Her previously over worked systems were working optimally once again, but she still felt a weight weighing on her. The reality of her loss was pouring over her emotional processors and it was difficult to keep it together.

However, it didn't feel as bad as before, if that made any sense. Even when she tried to block it out, her external systems were hardly the cause of her distress; shutting them down was not a solution, but a triage. A temporary attempt to get by until it no longer worked. Sooner or later, it was bound to fail.

Now the pain was muffled in an entirely different kind of way, and it disturbed her. She felt the relief in her systems from not denying the chaotic energy a way to discharge appropriately, but her spark was also quieter, as though the sedatives were not only affecting her processor, but her very being. It bothered her, because it felt like tampering with something that was never to be tampered with. The loss of a bond like hers' was supposed to hurt, and this? This didn't feel right. It was like her spark was so sedated that it couldn't tell he was missing. Or worse, it forgot. Part of her was missing, and her spark couldn't even tell. Like he was never there to begin with...

What had the medic given her? Whatever Ratchet prescribed as doing far more than he said it would.

Her very core felt numb, and even as she rose from the medical berth, her central processor remained foggy and her spark empty. She resisted the sickening feeling accompanied with the urge to sway as her pedes barely held her weight.

She didn't want to feel like this, an empty nothing, a vacuum. She wanted to feel something, even if it hurt. She could feel panic setting in. She had made the wrong call going to the medic. She pulled out the sedative allocated for her next recharge and looked them over, contemplating her choices. Any pain was better than feeling nothing at all. This felt like indifference. Like this, she didn't think she could grieve, let alone fight.

Standing fully, she sub-spacing the sedatives knowing that there was nothing to be done about it now. The substance was currently running its course through her frame, and she would have to wait for it to clear to feel any semblance of normality.

As she stepped off the berth, the medic noticed her from the corner of the hanger. Funny, she hadn't noticed him there before. "Are you felling any better?" He asked.

"Rested," She answered placidly, trying not to betray her cluttered thoughts.

"And your subroutines, are they causing any trouble?" He ran a scanner over her from his seat to insure they were still indeed, activated.

"None at all." She stood tall suppressing the need to wobble, and he hummed in response. "How long will I need to continue the use of the sedative?" She never had been a fan of external substances influencing her processor. This one was proving to be particularly uncomfortable.

"Only as long as is necessary." He replied shrewdly. She wondered how long he would think it to be so, but knew better than to ask. She wouldn't be finding out anyway.

"Can I go?" She asked, trying not to display her discomfort but was sure she was failing miserably.

"For now," He responded and gestured towards the hanger doors. "You should take it easy as you adjust to the new medication." He looked down to the data pad in his servo as he typed in a new entry. "I'd like to see you in a few rotational cycles to see how your adapting."

"Okay," She mumbled, shuffling her way to the doors. As she pulled them open, the light from the mid day sun lit her optics like flood lights. She nearly fell over from the blinding sensory data flooding her systems. Pain receptors surged in response. Her visor shot down on reflex, and she was grateful for its darkened tint. A passing thought popped in her helm. It would be awkward explaining her need for it to anyone on the base at the moment.

The feeling was almost akin to the withdrawal one experienced from being overcharged and deprived of recharge. She wondered how many vorns it had been since she last experienced that feeling. Three? Four? She hadn't had many occasions to celebrate.

She stumbled her way between hangers, trying desperately to remain out of sight as much as possible. Unfortunately, she wasn't very coordinated. Turning around a corner on her way towards hanger 2, she walked smack dab into Mirage. Luckily, the red bot grabbed hold of her firmly before she could fall on her aft.

"Careful there," He watched her, brow ridge raise.

"Thanks," She murmured, unable to find the state of mind necessary to pull away.

"What are you doing back here?" He pushed her away to arms length, continuing to evaluate her as he held her up.

"Ratchet," she shook her helm trying to form the words, it still felt like a scrambled mess, "gave me a sedative, to recharge. Hanger 2..." Her muffled words came out in broken pieces, but it was obvious she needed to lay down before she fell down.

"And why are you walking behind the hangers?" His suspicion died. He was weary of why she was off base the previous morning after her performance earlier that morning. Then she disappeared for the rest of it. He hadn't thought to ask the CMO. He had suspected nightmares when she first yelled. Now, he seemed to be holding all the proof. He felt bad for her, but she didn't really have a reason for skulking behind the hangers.

"Hiding..." She was feeling even more tired by the klik. Hadn't she just recharged?

"Hiding from who exactly?" He questioned.

"Everyone. Warriors need to be strong… I need to recharge..." She could feel her systems shutting down one by one and her processor initiating an uncalled for recharge protocol.

"Whoa there!" He shook her lightly, bringing her back to alertness. "Alright, just stay awake a couple moments longer," He scooped her up and ran towards the second hanger, activating his holograms and cloaking for more privacy. Other bots didn't need to get the wrong idea. "Stay awake a little longer." He commanded.

As he pulled up to her room he carefully set her on her pedes.

"Here we are." He was hesitant to release her, she was barely functioning. If she hadn't mentioned ratchet before, he would have taken her to see the medic.

She wobbled for a moment, but preceded to punch in the code for her room. Before stepping in, she turned back to the red bot, grabbing his arm for balance, "I'm sorry." She murmured.

"What?" He was dumbfounded. What was she sorry for?

"For yelling, the other night. I'm sorry." She turned back to her room, as though that was explanation enough. The door slid closed in front of the awe struck spy.

What a strange apology.


Nova stumbled into her room after securing the lock. She walked over to her desk in the back corner of the room and unsubspaced the sedatives the medic had given her before tumbling towards her berth. She felt like she had been hit with a battle grade tranquilizer.

As soon as her helm hit the berth she was out.

When Nova woke the next morning she was calm and collected, energized even. She had rested so long, longer than she thought she ever had before and her internal databanks were pristine. Her systems were working, even her spark was calm.

She new right then, she would never take the sedative again.


-Some time ago-

The loud clanking of pede steps on metal sounded in the halls as bots marched through them, scattered rubble and debris were carelessly knocked aside. Pressurizing systems whirled loudly, struggling to restore some order to the ship as alarms continued to blare.

He could feel his consciousness waning in and out. He dreadfully wondered why he wasn't dead as he vaguely remembered what had happened. The cons had attacked his ship and disabled him. His repair nanites were desperately attempting to repair the damage to his processor and vital systems, but those cons were making a serious effort to keep him out it seemed. Whatever they attached to him was causing an enormous amount of pain.

As they dragged him through the halls, he could just barely hear his captors vocals over the haze of his own muddled thoughts. "What about the other one?" The bot on his right asked.

Other one? Groundstriker's mind swirled. What other one?

"What about her?" The bot on his left questioned back.

A fearful tone spoke from his right once more. "Won't the boss be mad we didn't nab her too?"

"She doesn't matter," the second Con coldly responded. "We only needed one."

She? His mind wrapped around the words. Nova. They only needed one… He tried to put the pieces together in his mind, but it just wasn't adding up. Why was he alive? They were definitely Decepticons. Why did they only need one? What did they need him for? What boss? And more than anything, why couldn't he feel Nova?! His cooling fans picked up from the stress, but the cons didn't take notice.

They continued to lug him roughly through the ship until they arrived at the ships brig and violently tossed him into one of the decrepit cells. His systems fritzed from the impact.

"What do you suppose Shockwave wants with him anyways?" One asked offhandedly as they strode away.

Overwhelming dread set in as his mind latched onto that one word.

The other con dead panned to the first. "Do you really want to know?"

The first con shuttered with a sneer. "Uh...maybe not."

Shockwave.

So that was what this was about… That didn't bode well for him. He might have actually preferred to be dead. What was worse still, was that he still couldn't feel Nova over the bond. Which meant she couldn't feel him. Which meant she definitely thought he was dead.

Frag.


After A/N: O.O... That's right Folks! Groundstriker lives! Somewhere out there in the vastness of the universe is a poor lost twin. :(

I'm really moving between continuities like crazy. Although I like keeping a bunch of aspects from the comics, G1 and the cartoons, I really liked Mirage's red paint scheme in the movies. He looked awesome! :) And there are too many blue painted bots in this story at the moment for my liking.

This story really took a turn from what I originally had in mind. I'm curious what you guys think, and what you guys think might happen or want to happen. Let's see some predictions! :D

Thanks for reading, and I'll do my best to get the next chapter up soon!

Reviews help keep me motivated when I write! Hint hint. :)