Disclaimer: If whoever is reading this story doesn't know that I don't own Transformers by now, then there is something amiss with you.

Dear Monday Night Update,

I can't do this anymore. You are the reason I am falling behind in my studies. You say that you only want to be there for me, to make me happy, but I can see through that now. You kept me awake into the wee hours of the morning trying to accomplish what I should have seen shouldn't have been tried. I am writing this to tell you that we are through. I found someone else. Some one who understands what I go through as a student and an author. If you want to try to get me back, don't bother, I'm with Friday Night Update now.

Not-Missing-You,

Komanah24

Epilogue

Elita1 shutters her optics against the flashing terrain that flies by in a never ending parade as the transport-train speeds along toward Iacon. How long has it been? Her optic ridge furrows in thoughtfulness as she peers back out of the transparent observatory glass of the train and she realizes that it has been nearly four vorns (1 vorn= 83 earth years) that have passed since she last stepped pede in the great city. Four vorns (1 vorn=83 years) since Metropolis…

How time flies, she muses as she listens to the sound of Chromia and Arcee's recharging vents in the seat across from her. It seems like just yester-cycle (yesterday) that she was in Iacon, feeling utterly helpless when Optimus came back out of that surgery room, faceplates tightened with grief that she knew he would never show in front of anyone. She can still remember his irregular movements has he struggled to keep afloat in the tearing sea of emotions in his spark, it took only one look toward Ultra Magnus, who sat holding a silently crying, and sedated Hot Rod, to tell the older brother everything.

She had stood back in silence in the face of their sorrow, completely at a loss of what to say. What was one to say at a time such as that? What words could've make up for such a painful rending away of a part of one's soul never to be returned in this evanescent and temporal existence?

Ultra Magnus had bared it as an elder sibling should, she would know. He clenched his denta and only held Hot Rod a little closer with a fierce protectiveness that Elita1 could relate to all too well with Arcee, resolute to keep a strong front for his semi-conscious and sedated brother in his arms. Not an optic had grown wet in the mute exchange between Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime, and after he quietly laid a servo on his older brother's shoulder armor, Optimus had soundlessly taken his leave of absence.

Her spark ached for their sudden loss and she had followed him, though she had no notion of what to say to the bereaved mech. She caught up with him in in the hall of the base and had expressed her condolences, but it felt hollow, even to her. He had offered her a broken smile, a shell of what such an expression should have been, thanked her and tried to excuse himself with the explanation that he had messages of regret to send to the fallen warriors' family units. She didn't let him go and had instead caught him in a fierce embrace.

Elita flushes at the memory file of how he had felt against her, how his spark pulsed steadily in her audio as she had clung to him. She had started crying then and she still to this cycle (day) doesn't know why. He hadn't pulled back or pushed her away as she bawled so embarrassingly against him and held her there dutifully until her sniffling subsided and she had to let go of him in shame. She apologized of course, truly, Elita still can't remember a single time in her life that she had been so humiliated by herself than in that moment.

Optimus didn't make a large fuss about her inappropriate actions and only reprimanded her with a few softly spoken, obligatory words as if he was concerned she might fall apart again at the admonishment. He then recommended that she take time off as a Commander with her sisters to gather her wits and perhaps come back to the Autobot force when she was ready. A granted leave of absence, as it were.

When his concerned suggestion almost made her start crying again she agreed that a small time of repose was indeed necessary to lift her performance quality. He personally arranged her temporary release from the Autobot forces and she had gathered her sisters and left for Tyger Pax that same lunar cycle (night). It was only when she and her sisters were onboard the transport-train for civilians that she realized that he'd never shown her Iacon as they had planned. She had felt a strange disappointment as she watched the city lights fade from her sight and she swore she'd go back, that she wouldn't stay in Tyger Pax. But time passed, cycles (days) turned into orns (1 orn= approx. 1 week) and orns into a vorn (83 earth years).

Elita frowns at the landscape beyond the observatory as she loses herself in her thoughts. She had indeed stayed in Tyger Pax far longer than she intended to begin with. The posh, alluring life she and her sisters found in the large, neutral city had distracted her from the real world for a while and she had liked the diversion.

But as time went on her old military habits resurfaced and she had begun listening in the markets for news of the Great War, as bots began to call it. She hadn't been disappointed at all and she quickly found that the war had found its way to Tyger Pax. The Decepticon forces had begun threatening the neutral city with promised attacks and bombings if Alpha Trion, the protector of the city, didn't join their cause. More and more sinister news seeped into the populated, urbanized area, along with the news that the Decepticons had funded the building of a new city, Darkmount, where Galvatron continued to recruit more mechs and femmes for he and Megatron's ever growing armies.

Elita had also heard that Quick-plot was sentenced to life imprisonment in the Rustelic prison but never reached his destination. The turncoat was being taken to the off-planet facility when the escort with him was attacked by renegade bots belonging to neither faction, only two of the seven guards survived the ambush. Quick-plot disappeared and wasn't heard from again until his faceplates were captured in Polyhex and the neighboring cities a few times. Apparently the traitorous scum started working under Megatron as a black market dealer, finding the warlord ancient relics in the underground markets.

She had also dug around for news of what was left of her Metropolian force. While many of the twenty-one mechs and femmes disappeared into the ranks of the Autobots there were three that she received word on, Striker, Nova-flame, and Underhand. Striker and Nova-flame were recruited to the Elite Guard once they were functional enough and are currently in Iacon. Underhand was since conscripted to the Wreckers on account that he couldn't be managed by anyone else and is stationed at the wild, unruly team's outpost.

As for Nighthawk, Elita never saw him again after the battle at Metropolis, but occasionally got word of him through the news that would pass through. He was still Second in Command the last she heard and every story of him grows in the gruesome detail of sparklessness she never would have thought her friend capable. She tries not to dwell on it but finds it impossible… even now.

Elita pulls her thoughts away from the black aerial mech that was her childhood friend and tries to reroute her processing as she stares at the escaping scenery of the Cybertronian flats that she and her sisters are traveling.

Nothing's been the same since Metropolis. Since her time as a Commander and the massacre of her troops. Since the offlining of Sentinel Prime… She found after a while of living in Tyger Pax that no matter how much time would leave her, she would never stop having fright-files, she would never be able to live normally and she learned to accept that. She thought about going back to Iacon every cycle (day) and kept telling herself that she would. Somehow excuses would come to her processor to persuade her to remain in Tyger Pax a while longer; Arcee needed to finish her combat class, Chromia had just met a new mech. Such silly trivialities never lasted, Arcee would always get thrown out of her class for showing up her teacher and Chromia would ditch her poor mech for the next one that suited her fancy.

Elita smiles at the memories of the many noble mechs that Chromia would drag home with her, every one of them bright opticed and hopeful that she would come to love them and they would eventually bond. The unfortunate mechs had no chance against the wild spirited, blue fembot that is her elder sibling and they were usually dumped within an orn (approx. 1 week).

And Primus help Arcee's combat instructors. Elita lost count of how many classes the young femme was kicked out of for upstaging her master instructor with her overall superb servo to servo fighting skills. It eventually came to the point that Arcee didn't even want to be a part of the lessons. They were a bore, she said, and not challenging enough for her.

And it had gone on like that until another vorn (83 earth years) came and went. Passed by like a transient vapor in a strong gust of wind. Her life seemed to have gone to a point of being blurred from one cycle (day) to the next with no real purpose. Just thinking about those yester-cycles (yesterdays) makes her feel trapped and Elita briefly wonders how she ever remained in Tyger Pax for so long… she will never know.

Then on one of those dull, typically extravagant and irritatingly so cycles (days) she had seen him again on the street outside of the luxurious apartment where she and her sisters were living. He was there in the city on business along with four other mechs to speak to Alpha Trion about the possibility that the Decepticons would make good on their threats to the city and had made it a point to come to see her while in the area. She had been shocked that he'd remembered her and secretly pleased, though she would never have told anyone that.

He had changed in the two vorns (1 vorn =83 earth years) that had escaped between their first meeting, his optics held an unspoken confidence, but had grown older, wearier, and haunted with the weighing responsibility of a leader. As had it always been between them, there was something indescribable, exciting, and intoxicating, a spark of interest. They talked and she genuinely laughed for the first time in what felt like forever.

She had been deeply amused to find who the four mechs with the young Prime was. Sonic-blaster, who still remained the Autobot Second in Command after all this time and was now a guardian of two femmelings, Ironhide, who hadn't mellowed at all in two vorns (1 vorn= 83 earth years), Prowl, who had since became the Head Tactician, and Jazz. Apparently the thief decided to join the ranks with his newly cleaned record and with his specific skill set had climbed the ranks in little to no time, earning the title of Third in Command to Optimus.

Elita chuckles at the recollection of her amusement then leans back in her seat to gaze at the clear atmosphere that was visible through the transport-train's window. She finds herself drawn back to her daydreaming and allows her processor to be caught back into the whirlwind of her thoughts.

She and Optimus chatted for far too long that cycle (day) and the sun was dipping out of the horizon before they had bid one another goodbye. She had felt a strange tug in her spark when she had watched him walk away from her and had continued watching him until he'd disappeared around the street corner.

In the next few cycles (days) her two sisters laughed at her, they said that she was pining for a mech which Elita ardently denied. The pink femme fondly smiles at the memory file and searches her processor swiftly for their next meeting. She has to restrain a loud laugh beneath her servo as she finds it and accesses the file.

It had barely been an orn (approx. 1 week) later when he'd reappeared on the basis that he was discussing the possibility of housing troops at Tyger Pax with an increasingly annoyed Alpha Trion. He once again had sought her out and they walked as they spoke, talking about everything and nothing all at once. She had been in a dazed rapture by him and had not cared to pay any attention to anything but him. By the time the sun had set they were lost. Optimus had apologized many times to her for not giving adequate consideration to where they were going and had to humiliatingly comm Prowl and have the tactician map out where the pair of them most likely was. The Praxian hadn't been amused at all.

All too soon the negotiations where settled with Alpha Trion, and no Autobot troops were allowed to be stationed in the neutral city on the basis that the Decepticons would rightfully see it as a declaration of allegiance. Yet, much to Elita's profound delight, Optimus continued to come without disappointment. When she asked he always had a reason of course, as he was not one to just show himself without cause, but as time went on she quit inquiring his business in Tyger Pax and he stopped saying. Eventually it didn't seem to matter anymore.

His visits became more frequent and eventually he blushingly asked if he could court her, she said yes. Arcee was delighted with the prospect of one of her older siblings possibly getting sparkbonded; Chromia was less than thrilled, but kept most of her thoughts to herself. After another two vorns (1 vorn= 83 earth years) of pleasant evenings together, stifling, noble parties that they both escaped from as soon as possible, the stolen displays of affection when no one was looking, and the essentially fast budding romance that none too subtly pounced into both of their sparks, he'd asked the question.

Elita wraps her arms around herself in contained excitement as she recalls her jubilant and completely positive response to the nervous mech. The plans had begun immediately, they both agreed that a small, quiet bonding ritual would be best, with very few there to witness it, given his high ranking position. She also decided to come back to Iacon and rejoin Autobot force so that they could be together, he hadn't wanted her to rejoin but didn't try to stop her.

When Arcee heard of their announcement she was elated, if only for the fact that they were going back to Iacon and she hadn't seen her friend Springer since the three sisters left the city. It could have also been that she wanted a chance to learn more complex fighting maneuvers. Chromia had huffed at the idea and had gathered her things with a softly muttered 'I hope you know what you're doing'.

Elita turns her gaze to Chromia and Arcee and watches their recharging forms with a gentle expression. Both of them had fallen into recharge almost as soon as the train left the station back at Tyger Pax, trusting her to tell them when they arrived at Iacon. Just as well that some of them get sleep, for she surely won't be able to. In a joor (6 earth hrs), one breem (8.3 earth min.), and two and a half kliks (1 klik=1.2 earth min.) she will be bonded… how could she recharge?

Her spark pounds faster at the reminder and she hugs her arms tighter around herself as the nerves almost overcome her. Intake, ex-vent, intake, ex-vent, she chants internally as her core temperature rises in tension.

Chromia stirs in her seat and her optics flicker online at Elita's odd venting. The older femme's drowsy optics narrow and a small smile plays on her lip components, "Nervous?"

"Is that supposed to be a logical question?" Elita asks as she forces her gaze back to the observatory glass. This brings a soft laugh from Chromia as the blue fembot sits up, careful not to jostle Arcee online.

"You're starting to sound like Prowl."

"Don't talk to me," Elita orders as her pulse fluctuates rapidly.

"Well, hello Ironhide, it's good to see you," Chromia mutters as she leans back and closes her optics again.

Elita vents shakily, "Sorry, Chromia." The blue femme grins and sits back up to hear her pink sister's confession, "Yes, I am tense, and the nerves are driving me up the slagging wall," her dam of worries bursts open and she rambles on, "I've been keeping myself preoccupied by thinking about all the things that we've went through, but my memory has reach the present date and time, and now I don't know if I should cry or puke. I'm a nervous wreck and, and… I think I am losing my processor over this whole ordeal."

Chromia's optic ridge raises and she leans back in her seat again with a scowl, "That's got to be the dumbest reason to be nervous that I've ever heard." Elita's mouthplates open defensively but Chromia continues without remorse for her callousness, "Optimus could literally have any femme that he chose on this planet. Even me, because, Primus, that mech is fine! But he didn't choose me, or any other femme, Elita," Chromia's vocals soften a mere fraction from their usual roughness as she says, "he chose you. So stop worrying."

Elita watches Chromia nestle back into her seat with the still recharging Arcee and wishes she could slap and hug the blue fembot all at the same time. Her pitiless words calm Elita's thumping and frightened spark to a reasonable state and the pink femme can sit and actually breathe for the rest of the trip without having to conjure up every recollection in her memory banks.

But as the transport-train pulls into the station, slowing from its breakneck speeds to a crawl, the old, nudging fear that troubles every young fembot in the time before they are bonded creeps back upon her. She doesn't let it show this time, knowing that Chromia will snort at her and will call her anxiety silly, she holds it inside as she awakens her sister units and gathers her personal belongings. She hopes it will fade as she makes her way off of the train, but it doesn't. It grows. It nearly stifles her with doubts and panic.

What ifs start clouding her thought process… What if this is a mistake? What if Chromia was wrong? What if Optimus is having second thoughts? What if he doesn't want to bond to her? What if he is just too much of a kind mech to tell her that, and they will spend the rest of their bonded cycles (days) miserably hating each other?

She blindly follows Chromia and Arcee to the exit of the transport-train. Her pede touches the station platform and she hesitates, contemplating turning around and going back to Tyger Pax. Her servos tighten around her baggage's handles and her optics brighten in concealed panic.

Then she is off the train, walking through the milling throngs of bots. Her helm remains high and her faceplates strong as she saunters forward to lead her sisters through the masses. Her systems run hyperactively as she scans over the crowds in a controlled hysteria. Dizziness floods her processor as her optics flick from one faceplate to the next, to the next, to the next…

She stops and her blue gaze locks on a large red and blue frame. It is him…

Her pistons tense as his optics find hers and they stare at one another over the helms of the many bots between them. She takes in every part of his faceplates with keen observance and a slight paranoia that her fears would be written on his handsome features. She deciphers the emotions that cross his face with quick military precision. Recognition, elation, and then just… love?

The last one catches her flat-pede and she stops in her tracks, blinking slowly as she stares.

A wide smile slowly comes to Optimus' mouthplates as he strolls forward to greet her and Elita barely notices Ironhide following the young Prime with his characteristic scowl on his rugged faceplates. As her bonded-to-be wades through the noisy crowd with that funny and adoring grin on his usually serious features, optics never leaving hers, Elita realizes that Chromia was right.

There you are, to everyone who was sitting irritated in front of their computer, waiting for me to update. I truly am sorry it took so long. As you read in my breakup letter to Monday, I have been falling behind in my school work and I have had the worst writer's block I have ever had to date. Thank you for being so patient with me.

The next installment in the Till All Are One series will be coming out soon, I have got it planned to begin March 14th. Somewhere around there.

And since this is the last update of No Matter the Cost I would like to extend a last thanks to all of those who left reviews letting me know what they thought and if something was wrong with my writing. Special thank yous to: 2211Nighthawk, canikostar99, cottoncandy903, Galem (guest), kittycatcalamity, Malware (guest), Nightshade (guest), optimus (guest), ShyProdigy, Wacko12

And thank yous to everyone who favorited and followed this story. :D You are awesome people!

Komanah24