They Don't Call Him a Fem-Mag for No Dang Good Reason

Plenoptic

Summary pretty much says it all. Omigod a plot bunny!

First up is Chromia. This one's a little sad, but they'll get more fun. Promise. Please enjoy, please review.

In that order.

…That's starting to feel like a catch phrase.

--Chromia--

It was incredible how fast their worlds were ripped apart.

An attack on an outpost. No survivors. A massacre. Bloody, violent, abrupt, meaningless. One destroyed outpost.

Elita and Ironhide's outpost.

They'd been their on a typical survey. They hadn't been expecting trouble; the outpost itself was full of recruits, for Primus's sake. But apparently an officer had assaulted one of his troops, and Ironhide had suggested that, because they were in the area anyway, they go check it out. Maybe straighten the perv out a bit. Elita had reluctantly agreed, just because Ironhide had been feisty and he was worse than Chromia when he didn't get to work off his energy.

Four breems after the attack, Optimus and Chromia had been contacted.

But it wasn't as if their sparks hadn't already told them.

"Optimus?"

"Yes? What?"

"…If…if anythin' ever happens to me…"

"Nothing's going to happen to you."

"It could." Ironhide sighed, hanging his head, knuckles rubbing against his foreplate. "If they could get Scavenger, they can get me."

"You and Scavenger are different," Optimus replied quietly, his energon running cold at the mention of his old teacher's name. Ironhide didn't know that Scavenger wasn't dead, didn't know that the old warrior was on a covert mission on Optimus's orders.

"Somethin' could happen, Opt," Ironhide insisted, turning his gaze to his protégé. "Ah'm gettin' old, ya know? Ah'm not as strong…as fast…the frame don' always work righ'…"

He frowned, reaching over to place a hand on Optimus's shoulder. "Optimus. If they ever get me--"

"No, Ironhide--"

"Listen ta me!" Ironhide's optics blazed. "If Ah go before she does. Look aftah her. Look aftah Mia. She won' last long if Ah'm gone, but…keep her safe, give her comfort. She'll need it."

Optimus was silent. "Why me?" he asked quietly.

"Because Ah can trust ya, Opt. Tha's why. If Ah'm gone, Ah know Ah can trust ya with her spark." His optics dimmed, and he turned to gaze out at the city below the balcony. "If those damned 'Cons get me, don' worry abou' revenge or any of tha' crap. Just take care of mah Mia." He turned to Optimus, optics pleading. "Can ya do tha' for me?"

Optimus nodded, reaching out to clasp Ironhide's shoulder. "Of course I can."

"Whatever she needs?"

"Of course."

"You'll…" Ironhide's voice cracked, and he turned his head away. "You'll tell her Ah love her?"

Optimus tightened his grip. "Of course, Ironhide. Of course."

"Chromia? I need to ask a favor."

Chromia glanced up from her data pad, carefully surveying the rose femme perched on the edge of the desk. "What's that?"

"…Um. I think I'm going to go before he does."

The trigger-happy femme blinked twice before her optics narrowed. "Don't start. Don't you even start, Elita."

Elita smiled slightly, unable to look her best friend in the optics. "I know. I'm sorry. But…I think the Decepticons are going to make a target of me. So I need you…if they scrap me, Chromia, I want you to make sure Optimus…"

She trailed off, unable to piece together her thoughts.

"Will you just…take care of him? Don't act all optimistic and tell him things are going to get better, because they won't. If I die, Optimus will too. But he'll last for a little while. It'll take some time for his spark to shut down. He'll need someone. Please…if I go, Chromia, don't let him suffer alone."

Chromia stayed silent. Frowning at her desk as if it were the one pulling at her emotions. "You know I love Optimus," she said finally. "You know I'll look after him."

"I know. Of course I know." Elita sighed, putting her face into her hands. "I'm not scared of dying, Chromia. But I don't want to leave him behind. Not all alone. I don't want his spark to not have…" She trailed off again.

"He won't be alone," Chromia said softly. "I'll be here for him. Don't worry. He'll be fine."

"Make sure he wants for nothing."

"Sure."

"…Tell him I love him."

"…Sure."

Optimus sighed. His quarters were dark, just like his spark. He rubbed his chestplates uncomfortably, shuttering his optics. He wished death would just come already. He was trying not to let himself mourn. He'd be with her soon--there was no need for tears. She was waiting for him…

So why was his spark being so resilient? Why did it refuse to extinguish?

He didn't want to just do himself in. Elita wouldn't want that. She'd want him to press forward until his spark decided it had had enough. His processor could endure until then.

He groaned. In some tiny corner of his being, he knew why he couldn't die--his spark still had something to do. Someone to care for. A promise he needed to keep.

It was this reminder that brought him to Chromia's quarters less than a breem later. He sighed, leaning his head against the door. Maybe she wouldn't want to be disturbed. Although, whether she wanted it or not, she was probably alone in there; other bots had been avoiding Optimus like he had the plague. He supposed it was hard to approach someone who was apparently in mourning. Especially a commander over the loss of his sparkmate.

Optimus shook his head, finding his resolve. It was now or never. He might not be able to pluck up the courage later. He lifted a fist to knock--and the door opened.

"Optimus?"

The commander froze, shocked by her appearance. Chromia's armor had always glowed, had always been lustrous and envy-invoking. Her optics had always been bright and full of fire, her frame always held high and proud. But now, her armor was dull, unwashed; her optics were dim, lifeless, and her shoulders sagged. Optimus could only imagine that he didn't look much better.

"Come on," he soothed gently, taking her hand.

"Where?" she mumbled, rubbing at her optics, squinting the in the bright hallway.

"My quarters. We need to get you washed up. You need a bigger berth to recharge on." He shrugged. "Let's try and get you comfortable, at least. Alright?"

She nodded once, her frame sagging. "Um…but…I can't…really…"

Optimus stared at her for a moment before the realization hit him. Tenderly, he moved closer to the femme and gathered her into his arms, lifting her small chassis up easily. Cradling her bridal-style against his chest, he moved briskly back to his quarters, ignoring the glances passerby tossed their way. His life had essentially ended; now his existence was centered wholly around Chromia. Around the last bot who needed him.

She sighed when he turned on the solvent in his washroom, squirmed as she waited for it to heat up. "You don't need to do this," she mumbled into his neck plating, a finger absently tracing a symbol inscribed on his chest. Ironhide had had a similar marking…

"It's no problem," he assured her gently, resting his head against hers and shuttering her optics. "You must have been lonely."

"Not really."

"No?"

She wrapped an arm around his neck, hugging him weakly. "They're waiting for us, aren't they? We'll be joining them soon. There's no need to mourn."

He smiled slightly, rocking her gently in his arms. "I came to the same conclusion."

"Great minds think alike."

"Indeed."

He stood in silence for a long time, holding her in his arms, optics dimmed, frame enjoying the feel of the warm solvent. Chromia lifted a hand hesitantly to remove his mask, dropping it to the floor. Optimus turned his face into the small hand that caressed his cheekplates, sighing softly. Her hand was warm. Not quite as warm as Elita's had been, but warm enough to be comforting.

Chromia stroked his jaw line gently, cocking her head. His face was scarred, just as Ironhide's had been. A gruff, handsome exterior hiding the tender, loving spark that lurked just beneath the surface. Optimus was like Ironhide…in so many ways. Both tortured, living with the constant agony of their pasts, both…kind. So unbelievably kind. So loving, so gentle, so caring. Both were--had been--beings composed entirely of love, of compassion, no matter what others saw on the outside.

But Optimus was lonely. Chromia could see that now, quite clearly, as she watched how the mech reacted to her caresses, pressing his face into her hand, shuttering his optics and purring softly. She moved her hand down to run a thumb up and down his throat, and he murmured something indecipherable. She caressed his helm, stroked his cheekplates, traced his lips with one finger, while he held her in his arms.

"Make sure he wants for nothing."

Chromia frowned--what did Optimus want? His sparkmate, obviously. He wanted Elita. Wanted her spark next to his again, wanted to tell her, just one more time, how very much he loved her.

Maybe that was all he wanted.

All he needed.

Love?

I love Optimus. Of course I love Optimus. Not the way she'd loved Ironhide; not even the way she'd loved Elita. She didn't love Optimus the way Ironhide and Ratchet loved him, the way Bee loved him, the way the thousands of soldiers who knew him only by name loved him. Chromia loved Optimus more than she'd love a friend and less than she'd love a sparkmate. No, not less. Maybe not as intensely.

But she could never love Optimus less than she did another…

Perhaps it was just… a need. Not a desire or a lustful want. She and Optimus needed one another now. They'd always needed one another. They weren't so different, really--they'd both been left behind. They'd both been a bit calmer than their mates, a bit more sensitive to the world around them. Optimus and Chromia shared a view of the world that no one else quite…understood. They saw the universe for what it was--nothing but a large empty space filled with tortured souls, sparks searching desperately in space's black vacuum for someone to care for them. It was why Optimus and Chromia had sought out sparkmates; they were so small, so insignificant, but maybe they could do something to help.

And they were all that was left. In reality, their worlds had consisted not only of their sparkmates, but off all four of them. The war had been hard, and Optimus, Ironhide, Elita, and Chromia had formed bonds that couldn't possibly be broken. Those bonds had created a private little universe in which they could be weak, strong, vulnerable, invincible, serious, funny, sad, joyous.

Optimus never wore his mask when he was with them; there was no need to hide.

Elita never pretended she couldn't feel fear when she was with them; there was no need to be so strong.

Ironhide never cursed, made lewd remarks, or threatened them; they all knew he was really a big softie on the inside anyway. There was no need to pretend otherwise.

And Chromia had always let loose around them. Acted like a complete spaz, her mate would chuckle. But there was absolutely no need to put on a straight face.

Chromia wriggled, and Optimus dropped her legs, allowing her to stand on her own. She faced him fully, stroking his chestplates, staring down at him rather than looking into his optics. He placed his hands around her waist, brushing his mouthplates lightly over the crest of her helm. More than a friend, not as passionate as a sparkmate.

"I think," Chromia murmured, tracing the glyphs on his chest, "that if I hadn't met Ironhide and you hadn't met Elita, I could have bonded to you."

"But you did meet Ironhide," he replied softly, fingers caressing her gently. "And I did meet Elita. And we bonded to them."

"And now they're gone."

"Yes."

"Elita told me not to leave you wanting."

"Ironhide told me not to leave you alone."

They were silent for a time. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close; his arms encircled her small waist, hugging her up against his physique. It was strange; she'd never been this intimate with anyone other than Ironhide. But Optimus was okay. They accepted the fact that they loved one another on a level on which they'd never loved anyone else. Of course, Elita was still foremost in Optimus's spark, Ironhide still foremost in Chromia's.

But Ironhide and Elita really were gone. They'd shed their pain and their broken bodies and moved on, on to something more beautiful, somewhere more peaceful. A place where they could rest.

Optimus and Chromia weren't there yet. They were still in pain; they were still trapped in broken bodies. Their processors still distracted their sparks. As he held Chromia, Optimus decided that he felt no pity for the dead; he was sympathetic for those they had left behind.

"What do you want, Optimus?" Chromia asked softly, lifting her head and taking his faceplates between her hands.

He considered carefully, shuttering his optics, trying to decipher between his mind and his spark. "I want…" He wanted Elita. He wanted Chromia to be happy. He wanted to be set free. "…to die," he finished, opening his optics and meeting her gaze.

It was strange, to say that and not be sad. He was almost excited. He was going to be with Elita, and there would be nothing holding them back. No war, no Decepticons, no recruits, casualty reports, expenses, fights with the Council…just their sparks, existing together in the bliss of eternity.

He'd perhaps been dreaming of it for as long as they'd been bonded. He'd dreamed of a time when she would not have to hold his hand while he labored against his wounds in the medical bay. When they would not have to wake up in the morning to find that their courtships had not left any sparklings waiting in her reproduction chamber. When they would not have to settle for risqué intimacies because they were too tired to initiate a full spark bond, no matter how badly they wanted it.

Chromia stared at him for a moment, considering his words. He wanted to die. After a moment, she nodded somewhat vaguely. "Yeah. Me too. Elita told me to not let you want, but…I'm not so gung-ho about killing you."

He chuckled softly. "I don't really want you to, either."

"…So what do we do?"

They stood in silence for another long moment, blue optics set upon blue optics. It was strange…if she cocked her head just so, he almost looked like Ironhide…

Ironhide. Her spark caught painfully in her chest. It had never even occurred to her that the mech could die. Not once had she actually not expected him to come home. Their quarters had seemed so dark, so lonely, as she laid in the recharge berth they had once shared. She'd look at their walls, at the ceiling. Welding patches where one of his cannons had blown it through. Dents where their entwined bodies had pressed up against a wall. A slightly damaged patch of floor because their overheated frames had actually melted it.

Her mech. Her Ironhide, her sparkmate, her eternally beloved. Their relationship had been rocky and unorthodox, difficult and full of turbulence. But she knew in her spark that no femme was better suited to a mech than she was to Ironhide. They were alike in mind and spark. She was a bit more intuitive, to be sure, a bit more deep thinking, but it wasn't as though she'd always been the smart one and he the dumb. They'd been equals from the very beginning. Ironhide never did put on a show of brilliance. Most passed it off as a natural born stupidity; Chromia understood that he simply didn't want to put in the effort to impress others. Ironhide was best at blowing things up and loving his femme; he always did both brilliantly enough for her, and really, to him, she was all that had mattered.

Ironhide was gone. But she felt she still had a piece of him left. The mech, here in her arms. The first sparkling that Ironhide had ever helped to raise. The mech he'd loved from the very beginning, since long before he met his Mia.

Optimus gazed down at her, thinking along similar lines. Elita's best friend. The femme she'd partially grown up with, a femme in whom she'd confided her deepest and most precious secrets. Maybe secrets she'd never dared to confide in Optimus. Feelings only another femme could possibly understand.

Ironhide's protégé…

Elita's best friend…

There's still a bit of him…

There's still a piece of her…

Left here. For me.

He pulled her close and pressed his mouthplates gently to hers. For a moment, it was like kissing Elita; for a moment, it was like kissing Ironhide. Their arms wound around one another, the warm solvent cascading around them. It wasn't lust or desire or anything of the like. There was passion, yes, the passion that had not been bestowed upon their loved ones before they'd gone.

Optimus and Chromia weren't mourning Elita and Ironhide. Their sparkmates were in a better place, a safer, happier place, a place they wouldn't ever have to leave. Optimus and Chromia mourned the love and attention and security that they had lost, they mourned the pain they now suffered.

With their sparkmates gone, their only duty left to this world was to help each other into that place. That place where they could be with the ones they loved, in a place where they could rest.

"Come on," Optimus murmured, releasing her lips and taking her hands. "We need rest."

She blinked tiredly at him as he turned off the solvent and took a towel from its rack. He dried her tenderly, smiling at the way her armor shone softly in the dim light of the moons. Chromia fetched a towel for herself and reciprocated the attention, almost caressing his vibrant armor as she dried him off.

"I don't think we're going to wake up, Optimus," she whispered, and he smiled very slightly.

"That's alright with me. I'm not scared."

"Elita's rubbing off," Chromia murmured, grinning. Optimus dropped his mouthplates to hers to kiss her tenderly before leading her gently back into his room, guiding her to his massive recharge berth.

"I'm not doing you, just for the record," she snorted. He laughed quietly, flopping down on the soft covering.

"I wasn't expecting you to. I do want you to get some rest, though."

She sighed, and her smile faltered slightly. "I feel sort of bad about not saying good-bye. To Moonracer and Firestar and all the others…"

Optimus considered. Ratchet, Wheeljack, the twins, Bumblebee, Jetfire, Prowl, Jazz…He shook his head.

"I think they understand. They've all come by to see me recently; I think that was their way of telling me it was okay to go."

Chromia thought about it, and then smiled. "I wondered why those two had come by my quarters so unexpectedly. So I guess that's taken care of…" She lowered her gaze to meet his. "And that just leaves us."

He beckoned her with one hand, and she climbed onto the berth to snuggle up at his side. Arms around one another, heads tucked together, they lay in silence for only Primus knew how long, both gazing out at the moons. Optimus sighed happily when his spark came into cadence with hers. It was like having Elita, Ironhide, and Chromia all within him at once. The thought brought him a sort of peace that he'd never before experienced.

"What was this super power that Trion wouldn't let Elita use?" Chromia asked drowsily at last. "She never told me."

"She could stop time," Optimus mumbled, shuttering his optics.

Chromia snorted. "Figures she'd forget to mention something that cool. Why wasn't she allowed to use it?"

"Drained her systems."

"Ah."

Another silence. This time it was Optimus who spoke.

"Why did Ironhide mount his cannons on his forearms?"

Chromia grinned. "When I first met him, he made me so mad that I actually rammed his rifle up his aft. He figured it would be safer if he kept them attached."

"Something tells me that didn't stop you," Optimus murmured, brushing his mouthplates against her helm.

"…Optimus."

"Mm?"

"Now I'm scared." She lifted her head to find him gazing down at her. "I mean…this is death we're talking about. I know Ironhide and Elita are waiting for us, but…what if there's nothing over there?"

"There is," he responded confidently, without missing a beat. "I'm sure of it. If there weren't, there'd be no reason for us to have sparks. I know there is another side. I know Ironhide and Elita are going to be the first to welcome us there. And I know it's better than this, Chromia. I can feel it."

Chromia nodded and kissed him gently before tucking her head beneath his chin. "I'll take your word for it."

"…Good night, Chromia."

"'Night, big bot. See you soon…"

He opened his optics. He was lying on his back.

Not in the literal sense; he felt, immediately, that he was no longer a machine. No longer composed of wires and gears and armor. He was something far beyond that, something far beyond any physical presence.

He felt warm. What was left of him was warm. He tried to examine himself, but his being was something he couldn't even begin to experience in words. He was the light, the dark, the sun and the moon and all the energy in between. Energy. A being made entirely of all the contents of his spark.

Where was he? It felt like nothing. He couldn't feel the surface he was lying on. But at the same time, it seemed to have a presence; he could feel more than hear a thousand whispers. Somewhere very far away, but somewhere very close, someone was calling to him...calling to every last being in the universe...

"Hey there."

He turned his 'head' and smiled. There was his Elita. It was the first time he'd seen her for what she truly was. Not a robot, a femme, but a being of incredible warmth and strength. It would be wrong to say that she had a face, a body, because she was something far beyond the physical universe, but he knew that she was smiling back.

"It took you awhile to get here."

"I had a little unfinished business. Where's Chromia?"

Elita jerked her 'head' over her 'shoulder'. "Ahead of us. Are you ready to go?"

"…I don't know. Is there any place to go?"

She beamed and reached for him, taking his 'hand' in hers. "Of course there is. You think I'd be here if there weren't? Wait until we get there, Optimus. Sentinel and you parents are there. They've been wanting to know what's taken you so long."

"What are we, exactly?"

His question clearly caught her off guard; he felt her waver through their bond.

"You felt it?" she asked suddenly, and he felt her grin. "We're the bond, of course. We're our sparks."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You only just got here. I barely understand it myself. While we were in the corporal universe, our sparks were divided between our two bodies." He felt her 'hand' on his 'chest', and she continued. "It's not like that here. We're whole. More whole than we've ever been. We're one."

He touched her 'face', thinking. "Was it painful? My not being here?"

She pondered his words, formulating an answer. "Sort of. I missed not being able to talk to you, kiss you, all that. But we were never apart, Optimus." She beamed at him, and his spark swelled. "I was always with you. It was like watching you through a one-way mirror. I couldn't speak to you, you couldn't speak to me, but I could see you. You couldn't see me. But I watched over you. I've been with you all along."

He gazed at her for a moment longer before nodding. "What is this place, exactly? Where are we going?"

She pulled him to his 'feet', and she smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Everywhere, beloved. Everywhere."

Whoof. (Dies of exhaustion) That didn't come out quite as sad as I thought it would. I decided awhile ago that I didn't pity the dead. They got to escape this hell hole, right? I pity the people that have to live without them. Even if there isn't a life beyond this one, they all get to become trees and go dance in the wind :D

I've always liked the idea of reincarnation, too. I just wish I could remember my past lives…maybe I'll go see one of those psychics…

Anyway. Next up: Firestar!