A/N: By now, we've progressed into the future far enough that we're out past the point where Transformation ends. But that doesn't mean there's not much more to do. And some day, I'll start writing it... But for now, here's a taste.

Caught

The door of Prime's personal quarters slid open with a soft whisper of bearings, and Megatron looked up in abject horror.

One arm was stretched out underneath Prime's head; the other wrapped around his chest; and the damn, blasted berth had of course transformed up around them, so that Megatron could only exit now if he were disassembled first.

"You were off planet!" he yelped in self-righteous accusation. "What was I supposed to do?" He tried without success to wriggle free of this ignominious position. He glared up at Elita. "You know how he gets sometimes. I couldn't leave him like-"

Elita broke into a quiet, throaty chuckle, and held up a hand to silence him. She ducked her head and turned away, pinching the bridge of her nose in a gesture Megatron could swear he'd seen before somewhere.

She waited till her processor slowed down to a reasonable speed. It had been a long trip, and she was tired. But she'd come back early to their home, planning to surprise Optimus. She shook her head. Well, at least someone had been surprised. "What happened?" she asked. "The usual?"

Megatron grunted. "Yeah. You know. He'd holed up in here for two joors before I came to find him. Fragged-up glitch was trying to bear up the whole world again."

Elita sighed. "One day, he'll stop pretending that he has to do it all without our help," she said. "That's what I tell myself, at least. About every other orn..."

Megatron humphed in wry amusement. "I missed you," he said suddenly. "This place is not the same without you. And of course it goes without saying that Op's here was a wreck without his 'Lita. He pretended otherwise, but I could tell," the gray mech added smugly. "How'd it go?"

Elita huffed again, and came to sit down on the berth. "Oh, you know. Negotiations and diplomacy. Trade agreements. Treaties. Technological exchanges. Honestly, right now I think I'd trade a limb to stay here for an full vorn without having to go offworld again."

Megatron lifted the fingers of his free hand in a shrugging gesture. "You could suddenly become the worst ambassador we've ever had, instead of the best, you know. I'm just saying."

Elita snorted, an unladylike sound she reveled in after almost a vorn spent in practiced, pained politeness. "Where would that leave us? Should we send you in my place?"

"Ha. I bet that would go well," he retorted. "Greetings, Nebulan survivors! This time, I have not come here to kill you!"

Eita doubled over in laughter, though she tried to keep it muffled in her hands. "You're wicked!" she hissed, when her vocoder stopped clicking.

Megatron looked at the red Autobot wrapped in his arms, and grimaced. "Yeah. Behold the Mighty Megatron, Destroyer of Worlds. See how he cradles his bond-brother so that the big red lugnut might drop into shut-down instead of trembling in the dark like a scared newling. See how he stays to reassure the waking Prime with his mere presence. How fearsome is his mien, how murderous his gaze, how thunderous his words of woe..."

He stopped. "Hey... You could have let me out of this when you first walked in, you know! He twisted fruitlessly, trying to see over his shoulder. "Where is that slagging button..."

Elita grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it. I've been enjoying your predicament too much to bring it to a close so soon! In fact-" her grin widened, "I'm saving some image-files from the past few kliks for future reference!"

"You glitching little-!" But suddenly, Megatron's expression changed. "Elita," he said soberly, "Let me out."

The pink femme was still laughing. "What? No! Why?"

"Because," he said with the crisp diction of forced patience, "Don't you think he would rather wake to find you in his arms than me here at his back?"

Elita slumped. "I slagging well hope so!"

"Trust me," Megatron replied. "He would."

Elita bristled at his knowing tone. "What? You didn't-"

A little frantically, Megatron waved his free hand in self-defense. "You were gone! He asked! And after all, it's not like he lets me mess around with his wiring the way you get to!"

"Humph," was all Elita said. She sounded a far cry from the self-possessed emissary of the past vorn, who had visited a dozen planetary systems and secured three major alliances. She sounded like the young femme Ariel.

"Let me out, sweetheart," called Megatron with unaccustomed gentleness. "He's only got a few more nanokliks till reboot. Let's get you into his arms now, before he comes to. Then I give you my word I'll make certain that the two of you aren't bothered for an orn or two, all right?"

"All right," Elita replied flatly. She slipped around behind the gray Decepticon, and pressed the berth's release. The blocky shapes that had emerged to hold in the two big mechs sank into its dull-gold metallic surface; and soon Megatron was free. Well, free after he'd extricated his left arm from beneath Prime's dead-weight head.

He stood, and looked down at the thin pink femme. "I really have missed you," he said. He cocked a grin. "You're like my sister – you know; almost." He held out his arms. "Hug?"

Elita never had managed to stay mad at him for anything like the length of time he probably deserved. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "It's good to be home," she murmured against his flat chest.

The charger's hum began to change, and Megatron jumped into action. They laughed together as he lifted Optimus's arm and helped to shove her beneath its blocky form.

"All set?" he whispered, backing toward the exit.

Elita gave a contented thumbs-up. She'd missed Optimus's arms more than she wanted to admit to Megatron, and the comfort of their familiar weight was already making up for much of her past loneliness.

The door slid open. "Bye, Megs," she called softly.

The Decepticon Commander banged his head against the doorjamb in sudden exasperation. "Primacron beneath us – don't you start it too!" he grumbled. He went out, still swearing, and the door slid shut, leaving the Autobot bondmates alone in darkness.

Optimus stirred beside her. "What...?" he asked muzzily. Then his arms drew tight around her. "Elita!" he exclaimed. "You're home early!"

Elita smiled, satisfied, and snuggled into his embrace. "I'm home," she reaffirmed.