" Livin' in ruins, of a palace within my dreams,
And you know, we're on each other's team "

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Her hearing was the first to return online, able at first to only hear murmurs and muffled sounds before the words began to form in her processor, crystalizing into clear sounds and pronunciations.

"You're safe now, Chromia. Just follow the light . . ."

She started to move more, optics flickering online then shutting again as a bright light disturbed them, her underused voice box scrapping out a noise of agony. The light disappeared, and she opened them again.

Bright aquamarine optics gazed down at her, furrowed in concentration as they tried to gauge her reaction. Intuitively she knew to relax, finding the Autobot symbol which rested on the medic model. His color scheme brought back a name, and finally his face a sense of familiarity.

"Ratchet?" She croaked.

The medic nodded. "Yes. You are still a little low on energon, but I'm sure it's more the stasis than anything else that has fogged up your processor. Give it time."

Chromia's nature did not allow her to give it time. "Where am I?"

"You are on Earth, at Autobot Outpost Omega One," Ratchet explained, anticipating that most of this would go over her helm, "we found you in a stasis pod and brought you back here before any native lifeforms could come snooping around."

Chromia narrowed her optics for a second, still feeling sluggish as her processor began waking up a little more at a time. "Aren't you a part of Team Prime?" Her optics widened a little more, becoming slightly eager. "Where is Arcee?"

"Arcee is back on Cybertron," Ratchet looked at her worriedly. "When did you enter stasis?"

Chromia closed her optics as she thought, taking a few breaths as she tried to remember. "I'm not entirely sure . . ." She opened her optics and squinted at him. "It was some time after the great Exodus. I stayed on Cybertron to help survivors, but then . . . Sentinel Prime had a ship, the Ark. It became a safe haven, Ironhide and I went aboard to help. Something went wrong . . ." Her processor was still foggy, minute details slipping from her grasp. "I just remember . . . Ironhide shoving me in a pod and sending me off-ship."

Ratchet became even more concerned. A whole ship of Autobots, potentially in danger or destroyed; and Chromia so far was the only survivor of that tragedy. "Was it Decepticons?" He asked, trying to help her remember.

"No, no; that much I do remember." Chromia looked up at him. "The Ark was too large, and too protected, for Decepticons to try and take it over. The threat was inside the very walls of the ship. I just can't think of it . . ." She was beginning to get very frustrated with herself, frowning. "I'm guessing no one else from the Ark made it here."

"No, you're the only one," Ratchet confirmed, grim. "And we have not received any distress transmissions. But Earth and Cybertron are incredibly far away; it could take years without Spacebridging to make it here." His optic ridges furrowed. "Which means . . . You have been in stasis for a very, very long time."

A look of horror and shock crossed Chromia's faceplates, the femme trying to sit up but the medic holding her down.

"Chromia, I need you to stay calm - "

"Calm?!" She snarled. "I have been in stasis for Primus knows how long and you want me to remain calm?! Ironhide is more than likely dead, as well as the other Ark members, any information I have about the war is obsolete because it is now out-dated, and now I must be caught up on everything!" The femme was becoming increasingly hysterical. "Anything could have happened, but I wasn't there to help because I was stuck in a stasis pod floating through space! Ironhide, you idiot!"

Finally she relaxed, becoming caught up in grief and disbelief over her situation, just laying on the berth and looking at the ceiling in despair.

Ratchet sighed softly. "Chromia, the war is over now," he gently squeezed her arm, "we've won. The Autobots are victorious. Arcee is on Cybertron now, restoring it as we speak; the Ark members may have received our message to return to Cybertron and are heading there right now. If not, we can always search for them; any information you may have could prove useful in picking up their trail."

Chromia shook her helm. "There was a reason Ironhide forced me to evacuate. It was because he knew we were all going to die."

The medic was not sure how to comfort her, even more uncertain with her memories still in need of reactivation. With time she would come to remember the fate of the Autobot ship and its crew, but for now he would not press for more information.

"That doesn't mean we still can't look for them," Dana argued, ever the stubborn one, "besides, can't we get information from the pod itself? It could tell us where it originated from, or when it was launched. There's gotta be something."

Chromia looks at her in confusion. "What . . . Is that?"

The human took her confusion in good humor, laughing while Ratchet explained who she was, what she was, and essentially that she and the rest of her human race were sentient, so it would be rude to refer to humans in objectifying terms.

"Ah, I see . . ." Chromia frowned, still slightly confused.

"I am wearing Apex Armor, so I'm actually quite a bit smaller than what you see now," Dana smiled, "so you'll have to be careful to ensure I don't go underfoot and 'squish'."

"Are there any other humans here? Cybertronians?"

"We have at least four other humans who frequent this base," Ratchet explained, "and you can be introduced when they show themselves. As for another Cybertronian . . ." He paused.

"You're not going to like it," Dana cringed just little.

"What? Why not?" Chromia demanded, suddenly suspicious of their uneasiness.

"Why don't we just cut to the chase, and not try to hide the fact that I too reside in this facility?" Megatron stood to his full height, bright red optics burning as he let Chromia see him, her expression first shocked, then angry.

"You!" She screeched, deploying her arm blades and bolting from the berth, crouching in the end and fully intending to leap in the air. Megatron prepared for the worst, sliding easily into a defensive stance, but he had no need to worry.

Chromia cried out in shock and horror as she accidentally ripped the IV out, landing on the floor with a thud as energon began gushing from the would and the device, Dana rushing to help her.

"Chromia, you needed that!" Ratchet scolded.

"It's okay," Dana tried to reassure her, armored hands holding her shoulders as she took a look at the IV wound, "he's with us."

The Autobot femme glared. "With you?" She bared her denta. "This is a trick, isn't it? You are both under his control! His prisoners!" She tried to stand and struggle, but Dana managed to hold her steady, attempting to deny the allegations. "I don't have any pertinent information, and I sure in the pits am not giving  it to you!"

"I'm the one in charge here," Ratchet countered, helping Dana pick up the writhing femme and stick her back on the berth. "You have nothing to worry about in regards to Megatron."

"Liar," she hissed.

"Chromia, what possible use are you to him? You have been out for the majority, possibly 60%, of the war. Arcee is on Cybertron, and I would be more than happy to bridge you to her just to show you. Cybertron's core has been restored, and 'bots are celebrating victory over the Decepticons. Megatron is an outcast, aligned with no one but himself - and now us. I could even call Arcee if you don't want to risk a Spacebridge. You have options on what sort of proof you want."

Narrowed optics looked at Ratchet for a long time, not finding any indication of distress or fear, and finally she relaxes. "Very well," she grumbles, "you may not be prisoners, but I have a score to settle."

"Oh wonderful; another vengeful two-wheeler," Megatron mocked, his digits curling.

"Don't you dare make fun of me!" Chromia snarled angrily. "Not after what you did to Elita One!"

Megatron's mouth twitched, very much similar to a nostril flare. "I did not lay a single digit on your sister's helm. I did not even know she was dead until the news swept through my ranks!"

"You deny it, but the evidence pointed directly at you," Chromia was becoming increasingly angry as the warlord continued to pretend as if he had not done it. "Who else could it have been? Don't play me, or any of us, for an idiot, Megatron."

"Then clearly, I was set up," he growled, "why would I not have boasted of slaying her the moment it was confirmed she was offlined? The most loyal and trusted Autobot, second only to Optimus Prime himself, fallen by my hand? I would have basked in the glory for years to come! But I was not interested in ending Elita One; she may have spited me, but she was not my intended target."

"Who else could it have been besides you?" Chromia snapped.

"Someone within my ranks who did the deed and feared for their spark," Megatron guessed, "or they wanted to usurp me by putting a fairly large target on my back. Either scenario seems quite plausible."

Ratchet gazed at Megatron for a long time, as did Chromia, but neither Autobot could see any indication of deception. What he said made sense; if Megatron had killed Elita One, he was more than arrogant enough to parade such a victory around.

Chromia eventually looked away and said nothing, unable to come up with a counterargument, and wanting to stay angry at the former Decepticon. Silence filled the base for some time.

Dana took a deep breath. "So this means Soundwave is next." She stated.

Ratchet frowned, not wanting to have been reminded. "Yes, this means Soundwave will be retrieved from the Shadowzone."

Chromia's optics widened. "You are going to allow Soundwave to reside here, along with Megatron?!"

"It was a deal I regret making," Ratchet pinched the ridge between his optics, "for each former Autobot, there would be a former Decepticon. To make it 'fair.'"

"But he will help with our current goal," Dana added, "decrypting the Iacon database and looking for relics, among other things I'm sure."

"In order to get him, I will have to create two Groundbridges," Ratchet informed the femme, and Megatron, "the resulting portal will allow Soundwave to escape, but, I'm not doing it in here. I can, however, do it outside of this facility; the entire military base is shielded from any signal trackers. If the humans there can clear the area . . ."

"I'm on it," Agent Fowler was about as happy as Ratchet when it came to getting Soundwave, but they had to put some faith in his loyalty. If not, well, hopefully Megatron would be able to put him down if need be.

"That also means that you, Megatron, will be able to wait for his arrival," Ratchet added. "It's the most ideal, as I'm not sure how he would react to me or even Chromia being there to, ah, greet him."

"Understood." Megatron gazed around the base. "However, I am not sure there is a sizeable exit for me to use . . ."

"Just drive out," Ratchet scoffed, "it's easier than installing a door just for the purpose of walking through it."

"And the military are aware of the Cybertronian presence here," Dana reassured, "so don't worry about staying undercover. It's just for places outside that we need to be careful."

Megatron nodded silently, watching as she pressed the button on her chest and let the Apex Armor downsize, the human femme stepping out and stretching a little.

"Hey! That means that I can help Chromia and Megatron drive around without worrying about that stupid bounty hunter!" She grinned.

"That who?" Chromia looked at Ratchet.

Ratchet sighed. "It's . . . Somewhat of a long story. I'll tell you when- if - Soundwave gets here, that way I don't have to say it twice."

"Fair enough," Chromia frowned, not liking the Soundwave idea. With two powerful Decepticons in the same place, with only herself and a field medic, the odds seemed to be quite against them. The Apex Armor, she realized, was a dangerous variable.

But Megatron seemed subdued, and obedient. He might have been annoyed with Ratchet taking control, but he wasn't complaining. Even more strange, this was the place he retreated to for exile? It wouldn't have been her first choice.

As she kept watching him, assessing him, she noticed he kept looking towards to human; just observing, seeing what she was doing. Occasionally his gaze wandered away, but it kept coming back. Her optics narrowed.

Strange.

Once she resigned herself to simply - hopefully - getting used to it, her processor wandered back to the Ark. Things were becoming more crystal-clear, but for now, it was just emotion. Fear, anger, hurt, love, desperation. Only a few of them good. It was taking a frustratingly long time for her to exit the fuzzy processor stage; she had been in stasis for so long that it was hard "waking" back up. She sighed; eventually, things would start to click into place. She tried to hope that, somewhere, Ironhide was alive and well, searching for her.

Something told her he wasn't.