Yay Fera's back! :D

Time for some more mushy, fluffy drama!

Oh yeah, and some aft-kicking in-between there of course :)

Let's get into another plot-thickening chapter, shall we?

Enjoy!

Of The Spark And Heart

Part 2

Chapter 60

This place once held such comfort for its inhabitants. Now, the screams and planet-shaking explosions seemed to have soaked into the very walls surrounding them. The larger of the two species perhaps felt it more, being as highly sensitive as they were. However, the smaller, organic creatures may have felt something they couldn't. They had their advantages, despite their size, and so this granted them the near identical sense of discomfort to their titan comrades. They walked tenser as of these passing times, watching over their backs when they felt unseen presences stalking them. They deemed it all from the stress of their jobs. Their taller partners, hadn't that leisure to place their worries.

Those with the elite senses given to them by the mantels in their chambers, acute to levels practically paranormal in activity, found it most difficult. They were intertwined with the supernatural auras laced within the fabric of the very universe itself. It was this that allowed them audience with their gods or abilities far exceeding that of mere regulars walking among them. That meant that they felt the most minuscule of disturbances in their surrounds. That of which affected the normal, affected the gifted greatly.

So it was no surprise when both the tall figures whom encroached from the shadows of the stifling hallways, to the oh too bright atmosphere of the medical area, that they were hard with stern uncertainty. Neither appeared overly joyed to have been called into meeting in this space, for it held as much, if not more, suppressing uneasiness as the corridors. The stoic mech, standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed and his faceplates serious, didn't help matters much. One would figure that with such bright paint, he would have a happier attitude.

The one standing beside him wasn't as stalwart, but despite his own sunny armor, he was just as reserved. The Primes would almost distinguish this mech and his chippy, younger self those vorns ago as two complete separate beings. There was something on his processor, by the way his lip plates furrowed into a frown and his optics trained seriously on his leaders.

The fembot walking next to her massive mate entered the room before her beloved did, stepping lightly inside the space that only weeks before, held the form of Fera Lennox as she lay convulsing after she was brought into her second life. Her servos were held solemnly in front of her, her digits locked tightly together as she fought to rein in her rising anxiety. She was a Prime, therefore she was unable to make a show of ridiculous emotion. It was she who was expected to remain dignified, even in battle. She was to keep her temper and prevent a hint of doubt in her soldiers. However, it may have been Optimus, her sparkmate, whom bore that burden better.

As he followed her in, they walked as one entity to their comrades. They were being scrutinized as they approached, their every move marked for observation. Rethalia mentally sighed, extending apart of her bond toward her mate, who returned the gesture eagerly. It would seem the mech was actually more nerved than she was at the moment. This fact put her slightly at ease, as he was usually the calmer of them in situations such as these.

"You called us here?" she questioned Ratchet and Rodimus, her voice tight. The golden, red, and orange warrior nodded curtly, his movements jerky and stiff.

"This war is tipping out of our favor," he stated blatantly, quick to the point. "The Decepticons have one of our own, again I might add, whom holds invaluable information of both Decepticon and Autobot origin."

"Punch would never disclose our confidentiality," Optimus Prime claimed surely as he stopped next to Rethalia. His servo lifted behind her to settle on the small of her spinal support. She refused to flinch from the contact, knowing it gave the mech reassurance in his time of stress.

Supplies reports, along with diplomatic and political issues had drained the figure of any or all of his energy. He rarely had leisure time for his family unit, finding the seven or so stacks of compads piled high on his already haphazard desk consuming most his kalons. Rethalia would almost literally drag her mate from his work space to their berth, hauling behind her a frame that was near dead on his peds. His frame was wearied beyond his decacycles; his optics were darker than the last hundred or so vorns.

Rethalia had tried to aid him in his work, however, it was probably a useless attempt, as it barely did a thing to dent his increasing workload. A sparkmate could try, though.

"Punch is not the object of my concern," Rodimus commented. His optics shot to the side, aimed for the berth in the center of the room on Ratchet's right. The Prime followed his lead, finding the Galvanizer laying in the same position it had been left in those weeks before. "It is the fact that he was the one flying the ship that transported one of Cybertron's greatest artifacts of unrecorded history that finds me apprehensive."

The air dropped a few degrees, making even the Cybertronian fembot Prime shudder. The dark weight was heavy on her shoulderbolts, making them sag slightly. Her helm perked up when she saw her mate shift from the corner of her optic.

"Punch has a built-in full-wipe code implanted when he had been a double agent on Cybertron under Jazz's discretion," the leader rumbled. Rethalia could clearly note the saddened tone his voice acquired in mention of his departed comrade. It was in her hope that, somehow, that departed comrade may once again walk among them. Fera Lennox was their proof of that hope's existence. If she could make it, why not the others?

Rodimus' engines revved, but he said nothing against Optimus' word. His optics aimlessly bore into the floor while he searched for seemingly nothing. Ever since his return from the Decepticon stronghold as a tortured prisoner, he had not been the same. There was rarely a smile that adorned his lip plates anymore. Those fiery words he would boldly exclaim in his younger orns seemed to be from another being altogether.

Rethalia found her spark aching for the mech. In all that he had a lost, and all he had survived, could he be who he was before? Could any of them, living through this war for this long? What kind of emotional, mental toll would this take on them when...if...it was all over?

"Is the Galvanizer safe, being where it is, with an energy signature such as it has?" she attempted, desperate to escape her thoughts. "We tracked it from hundreds of miles in distance, with technology I may also add, that is less developed than that of the Decepticons."

Optimus slid his servo from Rethalia's spinal support to her shoulderbolt, squeezing it slightly. A wave of support flooded their bond, as he must have felt her increasing disturbance. "The mausoleum is surrounded in solid concrete and steel, with radial repulsive technology that I myself oversaw during its production," he assured. Rethalia looked to him, searching for a sign of confidence in her mate. If perhaps she had been a soldier, or a lower-rank warrior who hadn't known Optimus for vorns upon vorns, she could have seen it. However, she had known Optimus for vorns upon vorns, and all she saw now was an empty promise.

Rodimus came forward, breaking her from her revere. Rethalia lifted a servo and intertwined her digits with Optimus'. "You yourself said the Decepticons have higher evolved technology than our own. Who is to say they do not already know of our location here?" she wondered, fighting to retain her stoic composure. This was not the time to break down. She must hold herself together, for the sake of everyone else. It was them before herself, she knew that.

"The Nemesis isn't outfitted with such specific scanning devices," the former mech Prime stated, rising an open servo. "The hypersonic fluctuations output from this base's structure may very well throw them off long enough for them to simply lose interest and move on. The radial waves are so muffled and overrun with basic military transmissions that they would be picking through them a decacycle over before knowing where the Galvanizer's location would be. We are hidden from sight."

"What about when it is used then? What shall become of us - the humans even?" Ratchet inquired concernedly.

Rodimus didn't turn towards the medic, his mandible visibly tightening. Rethalia's tanks churned in that solemn expression. She needn't any wisdom of the Primes to be aware of exactly what it meant. It was laden with the weariness of a warrior. His features were heavy with a stained conscious. From a trained optic, Rethalia could see him fraying at the edges - falling apart bit by bit as he rusted away. One could almost make out the smoke curling from his vents as he struggled for each sickly cycle. It all meant the worst.

"The final war," he finally murmured, optics darting upwards to lock with Rethalia's. "Far too long now, we've withheld the inevitable." His shoulderbolts straightened and he swiveled on his heelped to face both the medic and the Primes. Rethalia subtly shook her helm when the daze of Rodimus' gaze pierced her resolve. Optimus' servo tightened on her shoulderbolt, willing she inform him of whatever ailed her. She merely held his digits in hers with a vice grip, using them as stability in her weakening, unsteady universe.

"Is this the time, or the place to have such a decisive meeting?" Optimus asked lowly. He was never one for unnecessary conflict, Rethalia knew that. That was one of the reasons why she fell in love with him. Nonetheless, he knew as well as she did that at some point this would all have to end.

Rodimus crossed his arms again, his blue sights darkening. "Where else? We must finish this. If it so happens to progress on Earth, then so be it."

None of them liked the idea of causing this planet turmoil. If destruction shall befall it, who was to say that it wouldn't end up a second Cybertron? She could almost feel it now: the stinging, smelting smoke biting at her sensitive optics and burning her nasal receptors; the stars' ethereal brilliance becoming overshadowed in dark smog; bodies of those she once knew clattering around her peds; the air, dark in hatred, and thick with tar-like malice. It was incredibly real...the freshness of the memory file made Rethalia want to choke on her vents.

Optimus had offered his share of encounters on the fields as well. As sparkmates, they shared everything. From sadness, to joy, to death, they lived it all together. Rethalia felt every single spark-wrenching, purge-worthy, grief-stricken moment of his becoming commander of the Autobots. Although, she had lived through it herself through the vorns standing by his side as Ariel and Elita One. She'd made it past it all; even the loss of her entire crew on board the Hope almost a decacycle before. And it all clung to her sickened core with irrevocable damage.

Shuttering her optics, Rethalia took a few long vents to ease her racing spark. The images of her comrades on the Hope being torn apart before her very optics crossed her processor in cruel discretion. She noticed Optimus' spark as well, humming rapidly beside hers.

"Rodimus, enlighten me," Optimus requested, speaking for the both of them. Rethalia silently thanked him, as she was quite aware that she could lose herself in the next few breems if she wasn't careful.

Rodimus and Ratchet didn't seem to notice her stress, or if they did, they didn't show it. Rodimus was too busy talking to Optimus, and Ratchet had taken it upon himself to begin organizing the various medical tools around the workplace as he listened in.

"Yes, Optimus?"

"How had the Galvanizer arrived at Earth? It appears too...convenient that it would arrive in the same place as both its Stone and Keeper."

"Not satisfied with the simple, are you?" Ratchet commented from the rear of the room. He bore a small grin on his faceplates, a wrench in his servo. Rethalia found comfort in the gesture, as it was increasingly harder to see a smile, or even speak in positive tones, these passing kalons. With it, brought more memories of when Optimus had been Orian Pax, a dockworker turned Archivist alongside Alpha Trion on Cybertron. Then and now, the mech was curious and with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. So it was no surprise that he would be suspicious with easy situations.

Rodimus huffed and watched the CMO while he worked. "If it intrigues you so, I will tell you," he offered, sweeping observant optics back on his leaders. "During my last orns with Alpha Trion, when yourself and the other Autobots were to be sent after the AllSpark while Elita One and I held ranks fighting on Cybertron, I was charged with guardianship over the Tools of Life. I had originally believed they were a myth - a legend created in the idealistic consciousness of one of the latter Primes of Cybertron. However when Alpha Trion led me to them..."

"I too believed they were of legend, until that is, when I inherited the Matrix of Leadership, Primon's own Tool. He was the one to accept me into the position of Prime," Optimus announced, nodding his helm thoughtfully.

Rodimus nodded. "My own had been Nexus Prime."

"And mine, Prima," Rethalia piped in. It seemed only fitting at the time that the mate of the Prime would be taken into the ranks by the near mirrored being that had given him his mantle of Prime. Prima and Primon. Two of the same.

"When Alpha Trion, being one of the Thirteen himself, warned me of their great power, I immediately knew they were at risk," Rodimus went on. "They always had been. Megatron had yet to know of them, nonetheless when this information would be given to him, there would be no stopping his quest to achieve them. So I followed your example Optimus, and planned to send each Tool to the stars. However, their Keys stayed inside Iacon before being bestowed upon those I, and Alpha Trion, believed worthy. Ironhide was made Keeper of the Stone to the Galvanizer, Vector Prime's Tool."

Rethalia's optic ridges came down. "Why not Optimus or I?" she inquired, half saddened that her long-ago mentor wouldn't find her worthy of bearing the artifact.

"Too obvious," Optimus stated sternly.

Rodimus gestured at the mech, wordlessly commending him. "Those looking for the Keys would surely suspect the mighty Prime or some other highly ranking officer to be given the honor," he insisted, a softer edge to his voice.

This reasoning settled well with Rethalia. She understood that Alpha Trion only wished the best for the artifact's chances, so she abandoned her brief confusion in respect of the elder mech's choices.

"Wise," she praised. "Wise. However, who are the other Keepers?"

"For safety purposes, in the event I was captured, I was only given the names of five Keepers. Alpha Trion knows the other eight. Although, they themselves usually do not know they are Keepers, as the Keys were buried deep within them as a stabilizing capsule. The energy signature from their sparks conceal that of the Keys. Eventually, they would be able to unlock an encrypted file placed inside each of their processors, disclosing all they would need to know of their Key and its Tool. I knew of Ironhide, Drift, Jazz, Grimlock, and..."

"And...?"

"Bumblebee."

That explained how the Keepers came upon Earth. That did not mean that Rethalia couldn't feel surprised at hearing the designation of the young scout. How long had he been a Keeper? Optimus had sent the AllSpark to the stars in the core of the war on Cybertron, and that was vorns ago. There was no telling when Bee had acquired the Key, or knew of its existence at all. Had he known of it, as Ironhide had? Why wouldn't he tell them if he had?

No, Bumblebee wasn't like that. He never held secrets from them. He was as close as a second sparkling to her, and the mere thought that he would withhold such vital information was unfathomable. The innocent 'Bot hadn't the spark to do such a thing.

Or could he? The Stone was the difference that could be made in this war. If it meant he had to keep its existence confidential, could he do it? He'd of lasted this far.

Swallowing whatever lubricant remained on her glossa, Rethalia kneaded at Optimus' consternated, frozen bond. He too, seem paralyzed at the possibility of Bee's involvement. "How did the Galvanizer end up here then?" she managed in his place, breaking the silence.

"I sent Punch and Chromia after Ironhide to join with you all as Iacon was to fall," Rodimus began grimly. "When it did, Alpha Trion launched myself in an escape pod. I aimed to find Punch and reunite the Galvanizer with its Key. However, I lost you all to space. Then Optimus, you sent out your tracking signal, inviting all refugees to Earth, and I believed I could complete my mission."

"But you were captured by Decepticons," Rethalia accounted.

Rodimus' optics dimmed, their bright light fluttering in sadness. "And locked away in their cells for Primus knows how long. By then, Megatron-"

"Megatron was still living?" Optimus interrupted before his mate could.

"Barely a few orns or so after I touched down with my captors," Rodimus confirmed. "Then Arachnid rose to power and tortured me orn after orn, wrenching whatever little information she could out of me. I almost deadsparked. I wanted to. And I almost killed myself off a few times if it weren't for her guards constantly standing watch outside my door."

Rethalia sensed the temperature in the room dip below comfortable levels. Ratchet could be seen in the corner of her optics, observing them with experienced quiet. He had to of been as confused as they were. "How had word traveled to you of Ironhide's deadspark?" she murmured.

"A few soldiers were boasting of Megatron's final killing - of his 'final word' against us and what we stood for. All my hope was lost then."

"You were locked away..." she averted her optics, processing the information. The calculations were quick to be made in her CPU and she lifted her helm once again, frozen in place. "Rodimus, you have been on this planet for over thirteen decacycles."

Adaption was a tricky trade to deal with. It involved advanced knowledge of one's body, abilities, and limits. And oftentimes, knowledge of one's essence. For if you did not understand the breaking point of that essence, and said core of your existence, you would shatter into pieces far too minuscule to pick up. It took courage to face your demons while they chased you ragged in your mind. It took responsibility to admit your faults and look upon the views of those you found closest equal to your own. It took bravery to fail. And it definitely took character to pick yourself back up after those fails.

Many fell to the laws of adaptation, as it was either too great, or too seemingly unimportant, that they doubting attempting it. Being normal was...comfortable. It was the regular of all and everything, and it provided a sort of net for those too nerved to dare step into irregularity. It suited most best to simply stand aside in times of change rather than join with it and fade away into the background as society developed past them. Generations would move on and the memory of past would dwindle to nothing. That was why adaptation was so important. The ignorant never realized that without adaptation, there could not be life.

This was why Solas Kaon was so adamant on being there every step of the way as his charge ran through her stages of recovery. Or should he say, her version of adaptation.

Through fire and ice he remained vigilantly beside her. Trying to speed up her process of adaptation had ended up putting her through another two kalons of deep, comatose-like slumber, which had terrified him to to end. Not once had he recharged that entire time, deciding to remain at the side of that berth of which she laid on, until her optics opened to the world for the third time. Ratchet had been stern that she was not to be handled by any 'Bot but himself until he had cleared her for activity. That meant that Sol couldn't lay a digit on the fembot until she was able to get off the berth by herself.

That journey had been a ride in its own right. Fera was careful in taking her 'first' steps, and had held onto Ratchet every moment as if he were her only link to the world. It both amused and frustrated her Guardian, who found it impressive how she wobbled on her peds the few initial times before falling on her aft, then have the nerve to get up and start it all over again. But the frustration mainly stemmed on how he wasn't being allowed to aid her in the situation at all. It appeared as though Ratchet had been far past furious after her collapse into his arms those kalons before. The unstable part of her restoration had peeked, sending her into a seizing fit and forcing the CMO to drown her in sedatives and force a manual shutdown.

And while she got to be reintroduced to any who walked into the medbay by the Hatchet himself, Solas merely sat by, watching it all from a distance. And yet, the mech medic wasn't so much aggravated towards the surprisingly cooperative Guardian that he would shield Fera away from him forever. Ratchet had become a sort of mech creator figure for Fera, and she had taken to him now just as easily as she had before. She knew about Sarah, her original mother, and the humans who walked around her. Solas was indeed able to speak with her, since Ratchet wasn't completely trying to lock down the poor fembot. As they'd talked, Solas grew gentler around her, as she seemed spooked by some of the smallest things now. The sensitivity would surely go away, however, this new, kinder attitude she was exhibiting was troubling. Her original personality had been far more feisty.

But then recently, to Sol's utter shock, Ratchet actually allowed Fera to recharge with Solas in his quarters. They were both aware she had been having disturbing visions looping about in her processor when she rested, and so he accepted that her bond with Solas was still very strong despite it being ever unresponsive, and suggested she recharge with him. It was a strict agreement however, meaning Ratchet was allowed to visit unannounced at any time, would receive annual updates on her condition, and that she wasn't allowed past the barracks and medbay until his say otherwise. Fera herself had shown a bit of her past human form when she'd complained about curiosity sake and not having met most 'Bots on base yet. Epps and the other humans were included in this discussion.

Solas was simply pleased to have the fembot nearby where he could easily reach her. And banning or not, Solas knew he would be able to sneak in a few visitors for the fembot if she ever truly got bored. At this very moment, he would have shot whoever came through that door, as for the first time in vorns, he knew what pure recharge was like.

It was a feeling unlike anything he'd ever before experienced. His frame had actually allowed him to complete a shutdown and travel into a land of such peace and relaxation he wondered for a brief moment if he had been sent back to Cybertron and was currently coddled against his nannia's chassis. He could almost hear her spark now, thrumming lovingly...

A low rumble started up in his chassis, the rev coming from deep within his core. A smile touched his lips plates and he snuggled closer to his nannia, drinking in the warmth and comfort he felt in her presence. She had always been small, that he knew, however, had she been this petite? Had she these swooping angles or delicate curves that fit right in with his? Or had she a helm so tiny that it fit beneath his chin? The memories began to come back.

But wasn't she gone?

Then who was this?

Startled for a split nanoclick, Solas' optic ridges screwed into his shuttered optics. He cracked them open a bit to see whom was wound up in his arms. The small figure was cradled into the curve of his chassis, their body bowed neatly beside his. Arms, thin enough they seemed to hold no armor at all, rested tucked between their chassis. A helm, mini as he'd predicted, was fit right beneath his chin, and was nearly completely cover by his mandible. He pulled back to see it was swooped in the center, with a simple crest adorning the front that was most obscured by his neck. The stark white of her paint clashed against the black of his, with the edges of her plates a smokey purple detail. The design was fairly for mundane purposes and without a heavier bulk of amour.

This being was so slender that he feared he would snap her in half if he held her too hard. It was disconcerting to see one of his own, especially a fembot, so underdressed in the middle of a war. In an act of protectiveness, Solas pressed Fera closer, grinning softly when she mumbled something unintelligible and squirmed closer. It seemed she had gotten over her terrifying memory relay from the night before, where Solas let her recharge next to him because she was too afraid to rest by herself. Now they lay here, enjoying one another's warmth, with golden light filtering down from the dimmed lights above. It had to be the later solar cycle, for his chronometer produced a time well past one o'clock p.m.

Bring one arm that was draped around her spinal support, Solas set it between her shoulderbolts, stroking a thumb link across the plates. It took him a moment to catch his bearings and remind himself that he was indeed awake. This was no glitched memory file. Fera was here, safe, nestled up against him as though he could defend her against the very thoughts that plagued her. And he would try. But first, she needed to get up.

"Fera," he murmured, ducking his helm near her audio. "Fera...hey you," he tried again, making her stir. She tilted her helm slightly to the side, exposing an optic that was barely unshuttered. The color beneath was foggy with the lasting effects of recharge as her systems attempted starting up. He chuckled when she moaned and hid in the bulge of his chassis, her faceplates shoved out of the way of the light.

"Num waklen shirken ram burdap cot dat?" she mumbled through a frame of alloy armor. Solas rustled himself to free her faceplates, careful not to come out of all contact as he did.

"Excuse me?" he questioned in humored confusion. The fembot sighed and finally flipped her helm to face upwards, her cheekplate settled on his collar. Those bright optics that took the air from his vents every time flicked above in a cobalt flame. Under the smallest of light, the shine more brilliantly than any star.

Through his musing, Fera spoke. "Don't wake me again, or I'll beat you up, got it?" she muttered, far too trapped in the aftereffects of recharge to possibly sound intimidating. Sol rubbed a servo down her spinal support before letting it hang around her midsection, the digits long enough to span her skinny spinal support. Of course, she was bigger than a human, but even then, she was shorter than even Arcee, whom stood at a good fifteen or sixteen feet. Fera was lucky to have thirteen. Ratchet had said that in time, he would upgrade her into larger frame. But first, her spark would need to strengthen. It was weak at the moment, which explained her extra need for recharge or the extra cube of energon when they refilled. He was simply glad to of been put back into service doing something instead of sitting around, helpless. It felt good to help.

"You're not really in the right to threaten me, now are you?" he retorted teasingly, getting a huff from the fembot.

"I'm...dangerous," she grumbled, falling under again. Solas gently jostled her, bringing her back into consciousness.

"I'm shaking in my plates," he claimed in mock terror. When the fembot still refused to cooperate, merely curling back into his front with a drowsy groan, Solas vented a sigh. It was truly difficult to deter a fembot that was as stubborn as they came from rest to come into a world which held so much strain. He understood her want to remain under, however, he was well aware that if he let her stay unconscious much longer, Ratchet would have his aft. As such, he tugged her gently away from his frame, making her digits grab at the empty air. Her optics opened in a snap, bright with irritation. She appeared comfortable for the most part, and Solas himself could easily say he was pretty at ease as well. But duty was duty, and his right now would be to rustle a certain fembot to the world of the living.

With a moan she propped herself up on one elbowjoint, sending him a malicious glare. "You couldn't give me five more minutes," she snared hotly.

The Guardian laying before her shook his helm once from side to side, sending her an empathetic grin. "Ratchet isn't a medic I like facing alone."

Fera's optics rolled into the back of her helm, a long groan splitting her lip plates. At least the side of her that dreaded examinations from the Autobot CMO remained in her post-operation amnesia. Ratchet blamed it on the intense trauma she received during the transfer. There hadn't been an exact promise that Fera would retain her memories if she were to survive the move into this Cybertronian frame. It hadn't crossed their processors to consider that possibility that she could very well have forgotten everything and anything about them or her past life. She knew how to speak, so that much they were relieved with. It was the other attributes, such as her personality and memories, that concerned them.

Solas suppressed these less desirable thoughts and patted Fera's shoulderbolt. "You have to check in with him every kalon, or else it is my helm on a stick in front of the medbay. You have nothing to fear from him," the mech sighed, meaning to be serious, however coming out slightly humored.

Fera twisted her noseplate in distaste. "Nothing to fear? Ratchet seems to enjoy hitting all of you with a wrench," her features dropped to worry. "He rarely smiles and becomes angry with me often. Does he dislike me? Did I do something wrong?"

Solas' optic ridges came down and he sat up, as did Fera. Dislike her? Who could dislike Fera? Excusing the Decepticons of course, and perhaps a few political figures she may have rubbed the wrong way, who could blatantly find her wrong? It sent a cold arrow of rage through his spark to think a being may cause her discomfort like this. After all she had been through, the last thing she needed was the added pressure of having every 'Bot or human on base appreciate her.

"Dislike you?" he repeated disbelievingly. "Ratchet could never. It is because he expresses his anger with you that you know he appreciates your company. It takes some time to truly understand him and his...methods."

"So he really appreciates your company?" she guessed, setting curious optics up at him.

Solas paused, not quite sure how to answer. "He and I..." the mech trailed off. "Have a complicated relationship, you could say."

It was Fera's turn to laugh, her helm tilting backwards a bit as light chuckles bubbled from her frame. Her optics were brilliant as her smile when they crinkled some. Each giggle was delicate as the ring of a bell. It sent a refreshing wave through Sol, knocking the air from his vents. He found himself smiling as well, his processor going blank and his spark skipping a beat. His bond reached out unconsciously for her own, but nothing returned to him. Disappointed, he tried keeping his minor sadness out of their moment and hid the pain it caused him to find their bond still broken. She was here, right in front of him, and yet, he couldn't feel her.

This fact had shown itself when Fera had first came to this universe as a Cybertronian. The memories somehow had kept with her that they had once shared a bond, though she remembered seemingly nothing of it, and that it was indeed split. A part of himself had expected it to simply bloom back into life as her spark would transfer into the frame. The other half of himself had ridiculed himself from the first kalon that it would never work. As long as she was safe, he couldn't give a frag if they were connected. The bond was expendable. She wasn't.

"I don't think he would ever hurt me," Fera continued after breaking from laughter. "He's helping me get my memories back, just like you." She lifted a servo and cupped Sol's cheekplate happily. "And I get to see Sarah for the first time since...well...you know."

Solas nodded, not needing her to go on to know what she meant. The message was clear enough. As long as she felt comfortable speaking with him about her worries, there wasn't a complaint in the worlds he could come up with. She actually remembered him and their bond, or at least a vision of what it had been, and so he was happy. It didn't bother him to retell the stories of these eight or so quartexes they'd known one another. It brought a sort of sentimental contentment to their company. And she soaked in every one as if she couldn't get enough.

"Is there anything you want me to tell you about before I send you to your doom?" Solas teased, causing the corners of Fera's lip plates to lift. If Primus himself came down and told Solas he would some kalon be looking into the faceplates of his charge as a Cybertronian, he would have laughed. Accepting all of it was so overwhelming that he doubted he might ever get used to it.

Fera paused to think for a moment, considering her options. After a nanoclick, she sat up and grabbed Solas' servos. "Tell me about Bumblebee," she decided brightly.

The mech was surprised by her choice at first. So far it had been about Rethalia or Optimus Prime that she'd asked about. Whatever time they had been given that allowed a proper story of their 'adventures' or some 'Bot was always far too short to enjoy. Ratchet would either enter, claiming she needed another scan or check-up, or Fera would fall into recharge before he could finish. She needed the rest, and he knew that. However, it was still concerning to see how often she needed it. Since she had gotten a good fill on recharging, perhaps she may have it in her to stay conscious this time.

"You won't recharge in the middle of it again?" he teased, nudging her shoulderbolt. Fera's optic ridges came in and her smile fell, replaced by a saddened frown.

"I'm sorry...I don't mean to..." she trailed off, looking down at Solas' servos. She let go of his left and held what she could of his right in both of hers. It was still massive when cupped in her small palms.

Solas closed his digits around her servos, tapping his crest to the top of her helm affectionately. "Don't concern yourself with it, I was merely teasing you," he assured her. "And about Bumblebee, I hadn't known him before Earth that well, as he and I had served different contingents of the Autobot faction. Although, however long I have known him, he's been an impressive comrade."

"I heard he was nice...is he nice?" Fera questioned lightly, opening Sol's digits to begin tracing the lines of his servo.

"Yes," Sol murmured. He was distracted by the wispy contact of her digit tips as they trailed gently across his servo. He could barely feel them at certain points, and in others, they made him want to shiver with the tingle. Electric spikes ran along the wiring of his arm and made him accidentally release a low rumble from his chassis. Fera's startled optics glanced up at him and Solas jerked, revving his engines to hide the noise.

Fera observed him for a nanoclick before breaking into another smile and turning her optics back to his servo in hers. "Did I know him?" she wondered idly next.
Solas struggled to regain himself. Usually he was better than this. It wasn't often he had to keep himself from shaking at a fembot's touch. Actually, it hadn't ever happened to him before. There had been but one fembot who could have attracted so great his attention as Fera did to him now. Astrea had been her designation - a fellow gladiator. She had been one of the many taken in Sol's life cycle.

As the memory crossed him his faceplates fell sullenly. Optics of a dark teal color focused heavily on the dainty digits creating seemingly random patters across his servo. She was so small he could have simply closed his digits, snapping her arms in half. That was why he felt so protective over her these passing kalons. Ratchet himself hadn't been safe from the Guardian when he caused Fera too much discomfort. Recently Solas had begun to carry Fera from medbay to his quarters, finding that she took comfort when near him. It could have been because of their lasting bond, thus leaving behind memory of who he was. But that wasn't enough. The knowledge was there, but everything else would have to of been rebuilt from scratch. The memories, the experiences, the...pain. All of it.

"You knew a lot of 'Bots," Solas told her, his helm bowed to rest beside her audio. He was a titan beside her still, and some of him preferred it that way. It was like the old times again. Back then he felt he could protect her. Now, even her processor was an enemy.

Fera's body slumped to the side, leaning on him while she continued her imaginary doodling. That had also been a favored habit of her human form.

"I suppose I did..." a sigh escaped her, causing her form to quiver against him. "I wish I could remember."

"You will again," he reassured, using his free servo to squeeze her upper arm in support. "This is merely the fun part - getting to relive it all. Even the bad ones."

"Was Bumblebee my friend?" she went on, ever so stubborn to move topics. Solas rumbled in amusement and dropped the servo from her arm to the berth to support him better.

"Yes, he was. He still is. I'm not sure that hyper vexpa couldn't be anyone's friend, even if he tried," he said. He caught the smallest of smiles creeping over Fera's faceplates.

She rubbed her thumb link over a smudge on his palm, working to rid him of the blemish. "Bumblebee sounds like he is a fine mech...I can't wait to meet him again," she muttered quietly. It was though the pressure building in the room was getting to her. It was true that the atmosphere had darkened a bit, as it always did when they got too deep in their emotions. The thickness of it was like wet cement, dribbling through their vents and weighing them down.

"He shall have plenty of time to reacquaint yourselves when he and Arcee get back from guarding Sam Witwicky's family," he promised. Dreading the silence if he were to leave things at that, he went on. "Is there any others you wish to know of at the moment?"

"Hound," she said immediately. "The one that protects my..."

"Mother?" Solas finished, shuttering his optics at her. She nodded, refusing to look up at him, and folded her legs underneath her. Sol felt her frame rub against his as she sought out his heat. She certainly was a chilled one. "Hound is also a kind mech. He never lies and rarely speaks negatively about any subject, from artificial energon to Titanios' defection as a Decepticon," Solas relayed.

Fera shifted, angling her helm up from his chassis to set curious optics on him. "Who is Titanios?" she inquired.

Solas, slightly saddened that the fembot would forget one of their most indebted peers. Though, to the human Fera, he had been a 'Bot she respected fiercely. Any who had dared question him during his initial joining of the Autobot cause had quite the furious talk-to from the master of anger herself. It was some spectacle, seeing a poor lug having it brought to him by a flustered female until a merciful Autobot -mostly Solas himself- or human pulled her away and calmed her down.

"A mech who saved your life. Don't concern yourself about him now, you shall know him better when the time is right. Hound i-"

"It's alright, I don't need to know any more of him at the moment."

"Then who?"

Fera moved away from him a bit and stared him directly in the optics. "You."

Solas hadn't the ability to exactly react to that. He stumbled over his words, striving for something to say. Was it wise to tell her about him? Could she handle his past, for the second time? Would it damage her processor if the memory was unlocked, thus throwing her back into a coma? Or...

Or could it possibly bring back her old self?

Solas' lip plates closed into a tight line. He swallowed whatever lubricant he could to expel the dryness of his throat. The possibilities and cautions flitted about his processor, launching him into a self-induced storm of anxiety and hope. This was definitely a risk if he took it, and there was no telling what could happen. He was her Guardian - the other half of a bond she was certainly questioning the presence of. As far as Sol knew she didn't know about it, or them, or Vector Prime, or the Stone of Primus, or anything else that she had before. It was basically empty knowledge.

Before he could respond to her, the door to his quarters was rapped from the outside. Solas flinched, pulled so suddenly from his thoughts that he nearly shoved Fera to the floor. She did however lose balance, promptly throwing herself to the side and toppling over the edge. Solas drew in a sharp vent and sailed after her in an attempt to catch her. His arms wrapped around her and her weight, combined with his odd angle, sent them off the berth together in a tangle of limbs and plates. Solas heard Fera yell out in fear and he clutched her close to his chassis, ripping himself to twist around and land on his spinal support.

The air was knocked from his cycling system and a sharp pain spread like wings across his shoulderbolts and spinal relay. His optics had closed, but where now wide open as he bit back a cry. Wires were buzzing with an energetic search of his frame for injuries. The biggest subject of his concern however was the compact form huddled in his arms, pressed close enough to him that she was nearly hidden in the bulk of his bracers. He drew them away, slowly, visibly running his optics over her to check for injury.

"Are you alright?" he demanded quickly.

Fera's helm rose from his chassis and she laid on her elbowjoints, her optics shuttering and unshuttering a few times. When his question finally registered with her, she gave him a nod.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Both 'Bots' helms snapped to the side at the voice of the guest. Solas, in all his Guardian programming, hastily shielded Fera with his arms to keep her safe in danger. His warrior protocols threatened to burst forth, but he withheld them at the sight of whom stood in the doorway.

A black fembot, sharp in features, regal in a surely dangerous way, was standing with a servo placed on the door frame. Her darker, sapphire gaze scoped out the situation before her without a hint of surprise. Her expression was impassive.

Fera hadn't yet seen the strange fembot in her Cybertronian life, so she was crouched low against Sol in uncertainty. "Who is she?" Fera hissed against him. Solas sagged, his helm hitting the floor with a dull thunk.

"Stratis," he informed her evenly. They regarded each other in mutual indifference, finding that it was much easier to pretend her breakdown hadn't happened and he hadn't been wallowing sulkily in a dark corner for almost two Earth months.

The black spy glided into the room and bent over, offering a helpful servo to Fera. The fembot paused, staying in place on Sol's chassis hesitantly. She looked to him for direction and he gestured her on. Fera lifted her petite servo, which was still only two-third's size compared to Stratis'. The black Autobot easily hefted her white comrade to her peds, even going as far as to guide Fera down from her Guardian.

Solas lifted his leg from its position slung up on the berth and rolled onto his kneebolts. When a servo appeared before his faceplates, he sat back on his heelpeds and gazed up into the features of Fera, smiling down at him while she bent over. Her open palm was aimed for him kindly, waiting for him to take it. So not to upset her, he did wrap his digits around hers, but put barely any weight on her grip while he rose. She still grunted with effort, yanking back on him.

"Did I know you?" Fera questioned, quite satisfied with herself from what Solas could tell. Ignoring her pride, he took his spot standing behind her at her right shoulderbolt.

Stratis contemplated them both with careful optics, their rich color dipping low to see Fera's far shorter form. "I was your Guardian for a time while Solas Kaon was recovering from a comatose state and post physically-traumatic experience," she said coolly. "I suppose you could indeed condone the fact that you knew of me before your revamp procedure."

"Were we friends?" Fera inquired next, causing any and all motion to cease in the space around them. Solas' spark skipped a beat and his tanks clenched. Their ease plummeted substantially, making Solas' wires flutter uncertainly. He searched for a reaction from Stratis, but the caught off guard disposition she put off was quelled quick enough to make him doubt it ever being there. Her lip plates were parted, but they closed in the silence.

She had taken too long to answer. The way her expression seemed so guarded - so beyond anything any 'Bot on this base, or maybe the planet itself, could reach, was astonishing. She was prepared to hide from anyone. Was she like this around Hawktail as well?

"I'm not certain what you had felt of me before, I haven't a proper answer for you unfortunately," Stratis replied lamely. Solas held back his wince at her careless tone. This wasn't the old Fera anymore. One thing could set her off.

As Fera leaned in to surely say something more, Stratis cut her off. "Ratchet sent me here to retrieve you for your examination. Sarah Lennox is waiting for you as well in the medbay area. You should be able to see her after Ratchet tends to you."

The formality there was so cold. It seemed almost practiced. It was downright wrong for the fembot to tarnish a reputation she had built so well when Fera was human. All the fembot would see of the spy after this was a sparkless drone.

"My mother? She's there?" Fera repeated excitedly, her servo waving behind her to pat Solas' armor happily. He couldn't find the will to share her joy, as he was too distracted by his confusion with Stratis. Where had her emotion gone? She'd shown plenty of it in New York, as well as at Fera's bedside when she had been ill.

Still scowling in disappointment, Solas laid a servo on Fera's shoulderbolt and rubbed it. "Thank you, Stratis. We'll be right out," he thanked curtly. Stratis stalled for an astrosecond to meet optics with Sol. A message played between them in both their stoic gazes. He was confused still, but as her wall broke, the statement was clear. Not here.

"Does Stratis hate me?" Fera whispered as she sat on the medical berth, leaning towards Solas, who was standing loyally at her side. Her spark hadn't stopped fluttering since meeting the mysterious fembot, and she felt more curious than she had in ages at the secrets she could have held.

"Why do you say that?" he murmured back, making Fera sit up in apprehension. She wasn't quite sure herself why she felt that way, she just did. Everything was confusing and new and unfamiliar, so of course she would ask. The way Stratis had looked at her...was it pity? Had she made a bad impression on the fembot, thus ruining any chances for a future companionship?

Her processor was beginning to hurt again, and she closed her...what had Solas called them again? Optics? Well she closed them off, if only to save herself the discomfort of see the blinding white of the medbay. It was all too clean. Not a dirt spot in sight. It was all so different than Fera's processor, which raged constantly on over the most random things. Solas Kaon had been diligent with her so far, thank God, but how long would that last before he popped? From what she had heard from Ratchet and Optimus Prime, he wasn't one known for his heavenly patience.

Wringing her servos -yeah, that's what they're called-, the fembot released a sigh and shrugged her shoulderbolts. "She didn't seem to like me," her voice was small and feeble. Mentally wincing, Fera wished to slap herself for sounding as weak as she did. She wished she could be like Stratis - tall and fierce, or maybe Solas, who was smart and incredibly strong, but could be the gentlest creature under the sky. Well at least as far as she knew. She'd kind of been too scared to shake Optimus or Rethalia's servos when they'd came to visit her.

Solas set a servo on her kneebolt, causing a sharp spike to zing up her senses. Fera's optics shot open and she tightened her already crushing hold on her servos.

"There is not an Autobot or human in this base that could hate you," he said, giving her an encouraging grin. "If they have anything else to say, they may speak with me."

Fera wished with all her might that Vector Prime had given her some inclination why whenever Solas smiled like that her spark rammed into her throat. Accepting his word, she slouched back over herself and went to work twiddling her thumb links. It was a fun game, as she'd came to learn. And it helped keep her attention while she waited for things. She gave a jolt when she realized just how easy it was to get her distracted. Was she stupid? Had something happened to her processor when she'd been unconscious? What was that-

The mesh curtains pulled aside, revealing Ratchet behind them. Fera, startled, jumped in his entry. This gained her a sigh from the mech and a reassuring grin that appeared all too forced in her opinion to possibly be real.

"How are you feeling, Fera?" he questioned her, as he did every day. In his servos he carried the usual supplies: a scanner, chemical composition assay, cranial analysis probe, dilator, compad, and a flashlight. The items tumbled neatly from his arms to arrange themselves at Fera's side.

Fera placed her servos on either side of her and swung her legs back and forth off the edge of the berth. "Same as I have been for the last two weeks, Ratchet," she quipped, finding these questions absolutely tedious. She wanted to get right to the good part. The end. "When do I get to see Sarah?"

Ratchet grabbed his chemical composition assay and attached the needle. Fera knew he was starting with this merely because it was her least favorite part of the whole process. The needle would be inserted into her main energon line, drawing out a sample to be tested. From her sparse knowledge, it basically showed the chemical levels taking place in her energon and displayed if they were off-balance or not. The medic like to keep track of her record since the information had been fluctuating since she'd woken up from the operation.

Boy, had that been a fun time.

"After I'm finished with you first," Ratchet mumbled as he studied the connection of the needle to its tube. Apparently pleased, he turned to Fera and carefully took her arm in his servo. "Don't clench, it'll make it worse," he advised, as he did every day. Fera was about to remind him of that fact before a piercing pain attacked her arm at about her elbowjoint.

She snapped her helm to the side, her oral sheets gritted and her optics shuttered. "One...two...three..." she counted off quietly. Ratchet's digits could be felt rubbing her bracer, trying at least some to comfort her. The gesture was appreciated, but it was truly hard to enjoy that expression when there was a needle stabbed into her. She opened her optics she saw Solas standing there, stoic as always, providing her whatever strength she needed through the empty space that separated them. It brought a smile to her faceplates to know that he was going to be there, next to her, no matter what. It made her feel safe - like nothing could touch her.

Maybe it was the way he held himself that made her feel that way. His shoulderbolts were broad, his arms bulging with gears and hydraulics and that, and he was tall of course. That made it so simple for her to merely crawl into his chassis, curled up, and steal his warmth while he fought away her nightmares for her. It was why she refused to recharge anywhere else.

A shrill beep sounded and she was wrung from her thoughts to reenter the present once again. Ratchet withdrew the needled, making Fera wince at the tugging sensation, and he connected the tube to a squat box that would calculate the levels and display them on a black screen on the front. Ratchet set it aside to process and he got the dilator, approaching Fera. "Tilt your helm back," he instructed.

Fera complied, allowing the mech to firmly grab her crest and aim the device straight into her optic. There was a brief flash before everything became extremely bright and blurry. But she didn't panic, as she had the first time, for she was used to this treatment by now. She didn't approve of it, but she tolerated it. A chartreuse mass passed in front of her, waving a tiny flashlight in her sights. She kept herself from shuttering her optics at the glare and her optics began to lubricate.

Ratchet pulled away soon enough and let Fera rub at her optics to speed up their adjustment. They would sharpen as time went by, but she knew she wouldn't have her full sight back until the end of the examination. That was why Ratchet usually did that first.

Now all she could rely on were her other senses. What she could hear was a mech making his way towards her spinal support, which unnerved her for a second or two. "Ratchet?" she called out, searching blindly.

"I'm here," he said from behind her, setting a servo on her spinal support in reassurance. "I'm going to do the cranial analysis. Are you ready?"

Fera wanted to say no. She hated the probe. But apparently it was necessary to get her processor back in order. So far, the time between her glitches had increased, but they hadn't stopped entirely. Which this machine, from what Ratchet and Wheeljack predicted, was going to get rid of them completely. Ever since Solas had tried entering her processor from the port at the base of her neck when she had first woken up, she had been thrown into a glitch when any 'Bot tried doing the same. Ratchet hadn't tried it again for at least a week, realizing it was too much a risk to try before she was ready. Hopefully that time was soon, for she was ready to know things - to no longer be confused and scared of everything.

"Ready," she confirmed bravely. She could feel Solas' servo closing over her own, which was pressed into her lap, before darkness overwhelmed her sight.

It was a strange, cold experience she gained from these check-ups. During Ratchet's inspections, Fera would sit completely still, unable to feel a thing, but able to sense every movement he made. From the flicker of a digit to the snap of a connection, she knew about it. The conscious intelligence that there was another being in her processor made her protoform crawl. It was disturbing to say the least. And yet, in the back of her thoughts, it seemed vaguely familiar. In some ways the presence of Ratchet as he reorganized and fixed her processor was assuring. It meant she was getting better. Nonetheless, at the same time, she didn't figure she would ever get used to mentally watching his progress as he picked around her files.

The only instance where he would open her files would be with her direct permission. Otherwise he would brush them aside in a neat fashion, placing lines and lines of data across her grid. She felt not a single moment of pain when he swam about. And it was that numbness that unnerved her the most.

"Do you feel this?" Ratchet questioned as he pressed on into the depths of her processor, banishing the viruses, or what they figured were that, the lodged into the very core of her being. It she could shake her helm, she would have.

Refusing to panic, Fera kept her voice as steady as she could. "No, just a tingle," she responded as a bolt of electricity shot down her spinal relay. She winced, even though it didn't hurt, and felt around for Solas' servo to clamp in her digits. His support was gratefully accepted.

"How about this?" Ratchet went on from wherever he had moved on in her consciousness. An abrupt pinch bloomed through Fera's cranial unit and she shoved down the cry bubbling in her throat.

"Yes, yes I definitely feel that," she agreed as she began to fall into an anxiety-induced anxiety fit. Solas grabbed her servo harder, and she did try to better focus on him instead of what Ratchet was doing, but literally having someone in your thoughts was disorienting.

Without warning, Ratchet pulled from her consciousness, throwing her back to the world in a blinding array of color and sound. She gasped at the barrage, her optics wide as nothing but white attacked her sight. Her spark was racing against its casing, fighting to get out. Hot air heaved from her vents as her systems tried to keep her from overheating. They could do nothing as the heat steadily increased. The thrum of her energon pulsed harder through her lines, sending hyperactive energy spreading as a venom throughout her. Plates of her protoform vibrated lowly.

In the distance she could hear her name being called. That voice was muffled and across the galaxies, far too beyond her reach. Her optics were flicking to and fro in avid terror. Shakes rattled her thin frame to the point where she was spazzing uncontrollably. There was nothing but the white. No longer could she see Solas' faceplates or feel Ratchet's touch. Their disappearance shook her to her core, making her fear explode into exponential proportions. Nothing but white.
This was exactly how it had been trapped inside her consciousness before she had woken up again. It was there that she had met Vector Prime and lost all sense of herself. This had been the place where her memories had been stolen from her - where all her pain started.

Fera's throat tightened on her, and her vents fluttered narrowly, making it difficult for her to cycle properly. They came in short gasps, her chassis lifting and falling rapidly to make up for her loss of cooling air. No, she didn't want to be here. Not again.

She began to struggle as an invisible weight pinned her arms and legs. Unlike before, this prison of herself had absolutely nothing. Not a single planet drifted on misty threads of the universe, or opaque walls line the edges, or beautiful scenes of memories play from tiny cubes captured in her servos...hands? She didn't understand anything happening, and it gave her a cranialache to try to think too much about it. There was no sound here, nor a source of feeling, sight, or smell. It was complete, utter nothingness.

Fera screamed a mute scream, her lip plates opening as her servos flew up to grab either side of her helm. She didn't want to think anymore! It hurt! It hurt so much!

And that dead part of her spark? What was that? It was as much a mystery to her as Vector Prime had been. It never responded to her touch, and when she held it near, all she collected from it was sadness, grief, and further suffering. A flood of memories was hidden behind its glossy surface, and she often cradled it dearly in hopes that the guard might rise and let her remember. Damn, she wanted to remember.

Fera pulled into herself, desperate to escape the madness, the pain, the loneliness. If only she weren't alone anymore, she could move on. But the white stretched over her entire being, thus draining any and all peace from her frame. It bubbled as a searing, scalding liquid, encasing her in a vortex of colorless agony.

Something was drifting from the outside, begging to break in. The white shattered as milky glass to rain over her. She expected slits to be cut through her...skin...protoform as she found the one source of solidity in this featureless Hell. With a vice grip that outmatched a vice itself, Fera clamped onto this object without a will to let go anytime soon. Her optics shut, but the whiteness remained as a pounding grind to the sides of her processor. The raging fury her body released scared her into wracking sobs. She just wanted it to stop.

"Fera!"

Without hesitance she latched onto the voice. It pulled away at her binds, letting her go free in a floating world. Then the whiteness fled, sinking to a darker existence until all that was left was black. For a moment her fear peaked again. That was until she realized what this black was.

With a shameless hitch of her systems, Fera bore herself into Solas' chassis. The weight she'd originally felt around her was his arms, shielding her from the world as he pressed her close. His servos were anchored across the short expanse of her spinal support to cross and grab her shoulderbolts. Her crest was buried deep into his plates, shaking slightly as she came down from her terrifying high.

"Solas," she mumbled into him, finding whatever niches in his chassis to lock her digits around. "Solas, I was so scared."

"I know," he murmured, beginning to rock her. "I know Fera, I know..."

"It was that place again," Fera rattled on, her optics staring in horror off into the distance as the lasting remnants of her vision left. "The white room...but he wasn't there anymore...I was alone, Solas, so alone! I couldn't see anything or find anyone, and the pain...it hurt so bad..."

Solas hushed the fembot in his arms and she let herself become prey to her traumatizing fall. The scars were now stripped wide open, leaving her to bleed heavily through the rawness of their severed edges. In silence she wept, crushed to the one being she trusted more than anyone but Ratchet, trying desperately to collect the pieces of her broken existence. It was an impossible feat for her to pull off. Though she would manage to grab a section of herself, it would merely slip through her digit tips and drop back to her peds. They became the tears that streamed down her faceplates.

"Fera?"

"Hmm?" the fembot knew that voice was not Solas', as it was too small and too feminine to possibly come from him. She lifted her helm, albeit hesitantly, from the cocoon of his chassis, turning her optics downward upon a slight form situated beside Ratchet. The kneeling mech yanked his attention from his patient in Sol's arms to the creature standing at his kneebolt. Fera's weeping dwindled off and her interest rose.

The human was female, with a slim frame, bright golden hair, and ruffled fabric around her body. One hand was at her chest in a fist, her small hazel-colored eyes staring up at the group before her. With a shock, Fera noticed the female was at least half her height, with features she couldn't recall for the life of her. But there wasn't need, as there could have only been one human walking the floors that they could be expecting.

"Sarah," Fera vented in awe as the arms surrounding her loosened. Solas' grip was soft enough that Fera could slip from the nest of arms and rest on her kneebolts in front of Sarah. Fera sat for a nanoclick before the tears were streaming down her cheekplates again, all in a befuddling mix of fright and happiness. She was afraid to say anything against them however, finding no words to come to her that truly expressed her current situation.

Hurriedly she scrubbed at her faceplates, trying to rid herself of these bothersome tears. What was she doing? Breaking down during the first meeting with her mother since she'd become Cybertronian was not the way she wished to make a first impression. "I'm sorry," she muttered through the sheen. "I...I can't control them..."

The lightest of touches brushed her bracer. Fera brought away her servos to see Sarah, closer now, her eyes full of concern. They too were wet, shining in a brilliant glimmer beneath the lights above. But she was grinning despite the sadness present in her gaze. There was a flurry of emotions entrapped there, too large in number for Fera to count. Then her arms opened, those pink lips of hers exposing white teeth in a large smile.

"Come here," she said.

Fera wasted no time in collapsing into the woman's arms. She may have been larger than the female, but that was no matter, as the fleshy arms of the human encircled Fera's neck. The fembot pulled her mother into her lap, slouching over her while she held her close. The tears kept coming, with no sign of stopping. Her hold was careful on the fragile human, but hers was tight around the neck of who everyone claimed to be her daughter. Tears of her own were dripping onto Fera's neck, but she didn't care.

She wasn't sure she wanted them to stop.

So yeah, about Chromia,

Yes, I realize she was in ROTF

but

I wasn't a big fan of her portrayal in the movie, so here, that motorcycle trio were drones

I mean Ironhide probably would have cared a little more if his femme friend was getting shot at in the middle of a desert, am I right?

Anywho,

Fera's gone and met Sarah, so that's a positive :)

And looks like Sol's getting all smitten with his favorite fembot.

I'm definitely going to enjoy writing this :D

*Chapter Inspiration: Atlas= Coldplay*