Disclaimer: Transformers is owned by HasTak, or whatever they're calling themselves these days.

Credits: In this story I will be referencing Bumblebee's origins as developed by Karategal in her stories, as well as the destruction of the Youth Sectors, coined as 'Floatila' by Lady Tecuma in 'Sparks and Plasma'. I will also be using the concept of 'carrying' as developed by Litahatchee in her story 'Night Fire', as well as referencing her depiction of the Floatilla Massacre. These ideas are used with permission. If you wish to use them, do not ask me. You must obtain permission from these authors. That said, I recommend that you read each and every story mentioned here, especially if you're a fan of Ironhide/Chromia, sparklings in general, or Bumblebee.

Note: Happy Valentine's Day!

File Recovery

Chapter Twenty-five - Harmonic Fragmentation

"I did not know he would bring that up, brother," Optimus stated as they passed through the atrium of Central Tower to return to their offices. "I only went to ask him about the facilities, to gain a better insight on where and how your ideas could be implemented. I meant no harm by it."

"I know, Optimus," he replied as they paused before the elevators. "I was just...surprised. I thought that you would have asked or at least warned me that you were going to speak to him of it."

"I-I'm sorry. You'rre right; I should have spoken to you first. I guess I was simply being far too optimistic on his reception of the idea."

"He's never accepted any of our ideas without complaint, brother. Why would this time be any different?"

"I don't know," Optimus answered, head shaking and gaze falling to the floor. "But I hope this one will work out for the better."

"As do I, as do I."

The elevator arrived and they both stepped in, doors sliding shut as Optimus pressed the buttons for their respective floors. He glanced at his brother then, as silence fell between them for a moment. The urge to reach out through their link rose up, if only to offer some small assurance that he wasn't angry, wanting to be rid of the other's slumped posture and faint look of worry.

But as much as he wanted to renew their connection, today had simply reaffirmed many of his own fears. How could he trust Optimus to keep his link with Skyline a secret? How, when if his brother's first action concerning his project was to consult their sire, even when he had hinted at not wanting it revealed so soon? He turned his gaze away, shifting his stance and clasping his hands behind his back, expression setting into one of grim determination.

He was not angry, no.

He was disappointed and it seemed that though he had kept his end of their bond tightly closed, his brother had picked up on it. They arrived at the first stop, and Optimus looked at him, expression almost pleading. But he did not relent, but simply nodded his helm slightly in farewell.

"Until tomorrow, brother."

Optimus returned the nod, a faint sadness in his expression as he stepped out. The doors slid shut, obscuring his brother from view. He bowed his helm. For the first time since he had withdrawn from their link, his spark began to ache. His intakes stuttered, and he let his optics fall shut, waiting for it to fade.

And in that moment he felt a faint swirl of puzzlement and worry flowing along that lone link to Skyline. The elevator stopped once more as he lifted his helm, the doors sliding open to reveal his office. He saw her peeking out from the door to the archive room, one hand resting lightly on the frame as she looked towards him, expression concerned. Stepping into the room, he tried to push the pain away, not wanting to bring his issues with his brother to this space.

But this did nothing to banish the worry in Skyline's optics as she left the doorframe of the archive room to meet him. She stopped there in front of him and he watched as she lifted a hand up to brush her fingers over his chest plates. That faint touch sent a pleasant shiver through his frame, but otherwise he remained motionless, still somewhat afraid of scaring her off.

"I'm not afraid."

He blinked, surprised by such an unprompted and definite statement on her part. He stared down at her, unable to find anything to say in response. She pulled her hand from his chest and instead slipped it into his, twining their fingers together as they had been a few nights before.

"Not of you," she clarified, the tone of her voice soft and reassuring. "Not anymore."

His intakes hitched, catching and a clicking. Slowly, he sank down to his knees, vaguely aware that doing so barely affected their difference in height. He moved as if in a dream, acting on a desire that he'd been so carefully holding back – arms wrapping around Skyline's slim frame and pulling her in close to his own. She tilted her head, lightly resting the side of her helm against his chest plates. He wondered if she could hear just how rapidly his spark was pulsing, auditory proof of his nervousness.

But she was calm; he could feel it over their link, a soft serenity that soon bled through, soothing his anxiety.

A kind of desire now rose to the forefront of his thoughts at that moment and he could not help but shutter his optics as it brought with it imagery he'd tried to suppress. It was no longer possible to push it away, not with the tangibility of her thin plating against his own. He wanted to feel more of it, to memorize every curve, every seam, every edge.

He found himself moving, shifting and ducking his head to press his lips against her helm, just above the right optic ridge. Her backplates slid past under the digits of one hand, the contours burning lines into his processor. His servo stopped at the little notches just under her shoulder plating, a thumb tracing that particular edge for a moment. This motion drew out a faint gasp - a nearly inaudible expellation of air through the intakes - coupled with a swirl of emotions that could only be described as confused pleasure.

That sound by itself was the most beautiful thing he had heard, but its accompaniment caused his spark to roil in its casing. It echoed ever other instance of fury he'd ever felt at those who had caused her pain, but in this instance it came coupled with a burning need to give her every comfort, every pleasure, every happiness that he could muster.

His optics snapped open to the faint sensationof her lips brushing over his chestplates, shaped into a smile, a warmth bleeding through their connection that swiftly filled his entire frame. The cold metal of the medical berth against his backstruts was a sharp constrast, drawing him cruelly from the memory. But he held that moment in his grasp, willing it to the forefront of his processor. It played there, filtering through like an antique holovid. There were so many little things that stuck out, that resonated and solidified all that he had imagined to be real as actually real.

The slight weight of her frame curled up in his arms as he carried her.

The way her optics fell almost nearly shut when they kissed.

The brightness of her spark, a crystalline blue that left a soft glow across the rest of her plating.

He shuttered his optics, replaying every instance with a reverance akin to worship. Here was the memory of that hesitant first touch between their sparks, of their cores meeting and merging, completing their connection in a way that he had no hope of being able to describe. For an instant he felt happiness, for here was the moment he had wished to know - the certainty that Skyline was his sparkmate.

And then came a pain, sudden and sharp. His spark contracted, clenching in an agony that had his frame arching up of the berth. He snapped a hand over his spark chamber, a strangled shriek tearing itself from his vocalizer. But just as quickly as the pain arrived, it vanished, leaving behind a dull ache. He lay there, intakes heaving as a kind of certainty fueled by despair settled itself like a heavy duty thermal blanket over his processer.

She was gone.