Author's Note: A quick thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'll answer them in a moment. And without further preamble I present the final part of "Disclosure." Enjoy!

– chapter twenty-two –

Disclosure (3)

There was shocked murmuring around the room, Colonel Lennox and Mr. Witwicky jumping off their chairs. Mom paled, her eyes wide. She looked aghast at my leg and the metal coating where skin should have been, the alloy shimmering silvery in the light of the room.

Horrified at Dad's actions, I tried to yank my foot out of his hand and hide it again – I didn't care that everyone now knew. I just wanted to cover the metal. But, of course, Dad wouldn't let go. So blushing in embarrassment, I leaned back against my chair and wished I could sink into a hole in the floor. I wondered where from Dad knew – and for how long he had known. I had suspected that he saw through my secret, but had never been entirely sure because he never really let anything on. And now I didn't have the slightest clue what he thought of me never having said anything about it to anybody. What was I supposed to do now?

Eventually, Mom slowly sank back into her chair. "But… how?" she asked, thoroughly taken aback, still staring at my leg in horror.

"Chloe had it for a while," Dad calmly answered her, "and she knew about it. She purposefully hid it." He glanced at me; his expression was smooth and not angry. Was it possible he didn't resent me for my actions?

Mom, however, was an entirely different story. "You what?" she exclaimed in an explosion-like manner, sitting up straight again and alerted. "Why didn't you tell us?" A notch louder and she would be screaming.

"Linda," Dad said curtly.

I shrank even further back in my seat, averting my eyes and not daring to look at anyone.

Mom was enraged, but when she realized she wouldn't receive an answer from me, she rounded on Dad. "Say something, James," she snarled at him. "Keeping this from us…" She trailed off and I peeked at her.

"Mrs. Roberts," Mr. Witwicky spoke up, maybe trying to calm her, but he went ignored.

Because suddenly, Mom's expression changed when it dawned on her that Dad had known. There was a mix of betrayal and anger clearly visible in both her features and eyes. "Why didn't you say something?" she demanded heatedly from him.

"Mrs. Roberts," Mr. Witwicky tried again, but once more, Mom took no notice.

Dad held her eyes evenly, calmness personified – to my surprise. He released my leg and I quickly covered the metal before sitting back in embarrassment. I did not dare meet the others' gazes, instead opting for staring at my fingers wringing nervously in my lap. This wasn't lost on Mom, so when she opened her mouth to continue her rant, Dad spoke up. "We kept things from her too, Linda, remember?" His tone had a slight sharpness to it and I noticed the officer in him come through. "Chloe is growing up; it's only natural that she no longer confides in us with every single detail." I was relieved that at least one person seemed to be on my side, but I doubted it would be enough to spare me from Mom's anger.

Of course, Mom didn't let go of the discussion this easily. After Dad had made his position clear, she turned her focus back to me and pressed, "Where is this going to lead when you no longer tell us something of such importance, Chloe?"

"Mrs. Roberts," Mr. Witwicky interjected, more pronounced than before. Mom turned to glare at him. He didn't falter under her stare, instead trying a diplomatic approach, "Your husband is right. Your daughter is going to celebrate her fifteenth birthday soon; she's on her way to becoming an adult. Besides, teenagers in general are less open with their parents about things they want to keep secret. I was the same with my parents. It's the first step toward independency."

Mom heaved an irritated sigh; it almost sounded like a snarl. "I have nothing against her having secrets from us, but something like this –" she pointed toward my leg "– is more than a mere secret. This is concerning her health, her life."

Mr. Hatchett cleared his throat, catching our attentions. "Lieutenant James Roberts here is an excellent physician, Private Roberts. If he ever suspected Chloe to be in mortal danger, he would have done everything humanly possible to save her." Mom wanted to interrupt again, but Mr. Hatchett held up a hand to signal he wasn't done yet. "To you it may seem like your daughter is going to slip away, but I can assure you that she is not. At least not because of the changes her body goes through right now."

Mom glared at him, then at Mr. Witwicky and finally at Dad. "Why didn't you tell me? Why, James?"

"Because it was Chloe's secret to tell, and she clearly didn't want to share it."

Since Dad was still very calm about it, obviously defending me, Mom rounded back at me. "Why, Chloe? Why? You used to tell me everything!"

I did, but… this was something different entirely. "I was scared, Mom…"

"You used to rely on us to take care of things that scared you, Chloe!" Mom exclaimed, now really shouting while Dad interjected a warning "Linda!" I grimaced at the noise whereas Mom ignored Dad, continuing, "We would have taken care of that for you!"

Her last words made me snap. Everything I had bottled up since last summer erupted in one big explosion.

"And how exactly would you have dealt with something like that?" I shot back angrily and pointed at my leg. Mom opened her mouth for a comeback, but I wasn't done just yet; too much had been left unsaid between us, and I could no longer hold it in. "You have no idea what it's like to be scared to death. I went through hell! There were strange shadows and voices, and I had no idea what was happening to me. Not to mention the constant pain I was in. It felt like a blade was viciously stabbed through me, hard enough to make me scream out loud in agony. I was burning from the inside. I hurt all over and didn't know whether it'll ever stop again. You think you could have taken care of that for me?" Hot tears welled up in my eyes, immediately spilling over. Remembering those horrible moments hurt. My chest clenched tight with waves of fear, pain, anger, betrayal and many other, right now indefinable emotions racing each other. "I've never in my entire life been more scared," I quietly added after a moment of trying to catch my breath. In retrospect, not even getting introduced to the Autobots had been this horrifying.

No one spoke for a long while, obviously shocked or surprised at what I had said. I so far hadn't spoken much about what I experienced last summer. I had tried burying the memories as deeply as I could, my only way out of the constant nightmares I had faced. It obviously didn't work out in the long run, but I no longer cared. It didn't even matter that some of the people present were of the same race that did that to me. I didn't care if I hurt them. All that counted was that everything I had bottled up was out now, and it felt good. I felt really light, like a huge burden had been taken off me.

Mom was at first as speechless as everybody else, but she quickly caught herself. "You could have talked to us," she said, much calmer than before, but still heatedly enough.

In a way, I could sympathize with her; her daughter had been abducted and tortured, and said daughter never spoke a word about it. She worried about me, like any mother would. But what would you have done? I wondered. Confide in someone and risk becoming a monumental joke or hope to work through it yourself and ultimately forget? No one would have believed me had I said I'd been kidnapped by giants. Giants were mythical creatures – or at least, I thought they were. The fact remained though: who would have believed me? So I did the only logical thing: I remained silent.

"Linda," Dad said once more but gently. Nonetheless, it was the wrong thing to do.

"Don't you 'Linda' me!" Mom snapped at him, irritated.

Mr. Prime reached across the table to take Mom's hand and her head swiveled toward him. I was sure she would lash out at him as well, but to everyone's surprise, she flinched and pulled her hand away like his touch had burned it.

There was silence for several long moments in which Mr. Hatchett stared at me pensively, then he stood and came around the table. Crouching down next to my chair and pointing toward my left leg, he asked me, "May I?" After having caught Dad's eyes, I nodded at the doctor. "Thank you," he said warmly.

Dad swiftly stood and thus gave Mr. Hatchett room. The doctor gratefully accepted the offer and sat down. He took my leg and slowly pulled my trousers up to the knee, careful to not hurt me. The touch was very gentle, but I still felt everything with intense clarity. When he gently ran a finger over the metal, I hissed and grabbed the armrests. He looked up at me sharply. "Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. "No, but it tickles."

He smiled slightly, placated, and ran a finger along the edge where skin and metal met. "What about that?"

"Neither hurts nor tickles."

He nodded, continuing with the examination for another moment before asking, "How much does it cover you?"

I bit my lip; that information would tick Mom off again, for sure. Dad stood next to her and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. "Chloe," was all he said, but it was warning enough.

Sighing, I gave in to my fate and said, "My entire left foot, what you see of my shin, nearly my entire thigh and hip, and some thin strand-like extensions aiming down the right leg as well as up the stomach."

"Nowhere else?" I shook my head no while he looked down again to study the metal, carefully – to not tickle me again – running his finger over it. He then slowly peeled off my shoe and sock and put my foot into his palm, running with his other, flattened hand over the top of my foot before carefully twisting my ankle in various directions. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

He let go of my leg again, and this time, I didn't bother covering it up. He kept sitting in Dad's chair, his gaze distant for several minutes. When he refocused on me, he softly asked, "You said you've been 'burning from the inside,' but you're not just limiting it to the time the Decepticons experimented on you, are you?" It sounded more like a statement than a question.

I gulped down the remembered terror, tears threatening to spill over again. I could force them down for now and shook my head. "No," I breathed, not looking at him.

"When else did you experience it?" he asked.

My hands wandered to my stomach and right side, where the worst burns had been. Out of the corner of my eyes I noticed that movement wasn't lost on the doctor. "Several times, throughout the last months," I replied slowly and quietly. "It always happened before the metal spread further." I glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

Mr. Hatchett looked pensive but didn't comment. He kept his eyes on me, though, his gaze becoming distant once more before refocusing not a moment later.

Mr. Prime asked, "Ratchet?"

The doctor gave me another thoughtful look before he turned a little to face Mr. Prime. "The changes vary depending on the composition of the tissue," he began. "Soft tissue like fibers is easier to convert than more durable tissue like bones."

"In yesterday's update you said the main changes are to her skeleton and skin," Mr. Prowl interrupted. "Your report and just made statement don't comply."

The doctor sighed in aggravation; it nearly sounded like a growl. "It would if you'd let me finish before offering unsolicited comments," he snapped across the table.

"Ratchet," Mr. Prime said, "please." He gestured in my direction.

"And better explain it in a way that non-physicians can understand it too," Colonel Lennox added. I glanced from one to the other, uncertain if I even wanted to know what they were talking about.

Sighing in resignation, Mr. Hatchett turned back to me. "As you may have heard before, we have mechanisms for internal self-repair, conducted by nanites. The Decepticons used such nanites on you, during their experiments. These nanites are responsible for the changes you undergo."

What? I frowned in confusion, but before I could ask for an explanation, Mom said, "The metal coating her skin isn't the only change?"

Mr. Hatchett shook his head. "No, though it's the most obvious and among the farthest changes. I have to admit that I'm surprised you were able to conceal it for several months, Chloe."

Mom and I stared at him. "You knew?" she asked before I could, her voice wavering in incredulity, but I also detected the accusatorial undertone.

Mr. Hatchett looked at her. "Yes, I did. We all did, in fact. It's not difficult to notice, especially when our scanners ping loudly as soon as they detect the metal."

"Scanners?" I queried.

At the same time, Mom blurted out, "And you never told me?" The accusation was now clearly audible.

"We didn't want to unnecessarily worry you," Mr. Hatchett calmly answered Mom, his tone dismissive, before turning back toward me. "Scanners," he confirmed. "From the moment you set foot on this island, you've been under observation most of the time. We arranged it to keep someone in scanner range as often as possible to keep a tap on you. In fact, that is why your family moved here. I needed to have you close by."

Before I could ask him what he meant by that, he continued, addressing the room in general, "Like I said before, soft tissue is easier to convert, but I assume the Decepticons changed the programming because apart from the obvious skin replacements, relatively little of the soft tissue has been altered. Noticeable changes are to your right kidney and stomach. With both, about a quarter to a third is changed. Every other organ remains unaffected as it currently stands."

"Could an alteration to the stomach be a reason for not eating?" Dad asked generalized, but I thought I knew he was thinking of that one weekend when I had no hunger at all.

Mr. Hatchett pursed his lips pensively, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Possibly," he answered eventually, glancing between me and Dad. "Are you asking with something specific in mind?"

Dad shrugged nonchalantly. "No, just curious."

The doctor bored his eyes into Dad's but didn't get him to crack, so Mr. Hatchett turned back to me. "I furthermore detected a few seams of metal among fibers and muscles. The majority of either so far seems unchanged, but I cannot be completely sure. There might be changes that I can't see because breathing and constant muscle movements – even if you do not move consciously – make it hard for precise scans. The MRT didn't even uncover these few seams so we're a little 'blind' in that regard.

"As for your nervous system… the majority is exchanged, but the system itself still functions without restrictions. On the contrary… your senses have heightened, haven't they? Colors have more vibrancy; you perceive them differently to what you were used to, no? Sounds are also much clearer, and you can hear tones you couldn't before, am I right?"

"How do you know?" I whispered, turning more and more baffled. He could 'see' more than an MRT scanner?

He smiled slightly. "It's how our senses function."

I stared at him, uncertain whether I should feel surprised, excited or downright scared. That decision could wait, I decided; however, the one thing that didn't make sense to me, at all, could not. "But –" I began before trailing off again, unsure of how to phrase it.

"But?" he prompted when I still hadn't completed my sentence after a few moments.

"Well…" How best to say it? "I learned at school that what we see with our eyes is directly transported to our brains. These nerves are in my head. But my head isn't affected yet." I paused and briefly glanced at Dad. "At least, you didn't say it was, and it doesn't feel like it is…"

He nodded slowly. "You're right, I didn't. The head by itself has not yet been affected. However, nanites are base-programmed to always repair the worst damage first. That cannot be changed, no matter how long or hard you try to tweak the programming. As the neural network is very important to our functioning, any fault to it would be repaired immediately. Since your nervous system accounts as very faulty from a nanite's program's perception, they would repair it first."

"Which in Chloe's case translates to 'transform'?" Colonel Lennox asked. Mr. Hatchett nodded.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Mr. Witwicky frown. "Does that mean her nervous system is already… metallic?"

Mr. Hatchett turned toward him. "Not metallic but equivalent to how our neural network is designed." He briefly glanced at me before adding, "But yes, about eighty percent of her nervous network is no longer of biologic origin."

"What about her skeleton?" Mr. Prime asked.

Mr. Hatchett sighed. "These changes are mostly analog to the skin change. Her left leg's bones are completely transformed, and the pelvis is about halfway there. My guess is that the nanites mainly attacked her skin and nervous system, leaving muscles and the like alone for the time being, while the shells rebuilt her skeleton."

Mom suddenly gave a sob and I looked at her. She had tears in her eyes that spilled over when we locked eyes. A hand covered her mouth while the other went to grab Dad's that lay on her shoulder for support; it couldn't hide the fear in her expression.

And finally I grasped what they were telling me: I was being transformed into a robot – and everyone apart from me had known. Panic washed over me; the ground was drawn from beneath me and I was falling endlessly into darkness. I was screaming at the top of my lungs for help, but there was no answer – only everlasting silence. This feeling of helplessness brought tears back to my eyes that instantly spilled over.

Unable to continue holding eye contact with Mom, I turned back to Mr. Hatchett and searched for his blue eyes that usually held infinite wisdom. Today, however, they were blank. He sent me a sad smile. "I'm going to die?" I breathed, then shivered when an icy wave of terror rolled down my spine. I hugged myself for warmth and comfort, still holding his gaze.

Suddenly, the frightening blankness got replaced with grim resolution. I immediately latched onto that, tentative hope swelling in my chest. His blue eyes searched mine, then bored into them. "Not if I can prevent it," he told me firmly, the clearly audible determination nourishing the hope, blending its warmth with the icy terror until it was halfway bearable. Somehow I knew the coldness would never again go away entirely, but as long as I had the chance to feel a little bit optimistic, it would be enough.

I decided to trust him.

Mr. Witwicky looked from Mr. Prime via Mr. Prowl to Mr. Hatchett. "Why didn't you tell her earlier? After she got abducted? Why wait until now?"

Mr. Hatchett's expression turned pensive. "So far there was no reason to unnecessarily worry her," he said slowly after a moment. "When she got released out of the hospital after the abduction, she was cleared. As far as I could see, the nanites in her body were dormant, meaning that there would be no more changes to her organic tissue. I have to admit that there was a risk of the nanites becoming active again, simply because I couldn't tell why they had fallen dormant to begin with. But for all I knew and calculated, she could have lived her life without ever needing to know. She could have died a peaceful death in high age.

"However, the Decepticons not only implanted nanites into her body but into her heart too. And the one in her heart exploded. On hindsight, I'm quite certain I even know the exact moment it happened." He looked sad, like feeling guilty that he hadn't been able to protect me. He continued, speaking to me directly, "The energy freed in that explosion has interfused with your blood, fanning out over your entire body. When it then came into contact with your cells' nuclei, it killed them. The resulting necrosis is the main reason why we're telling you now."

"Necrosis?" I asked, confused.

"Death of cells," Dad explained. "Cell death is a natural process and normally programmed. In general, the dead cells are replaced again. Not so when you suffer from necrosis. Necrosis results from outside influence like for example toxins. Usual treatment would be surgery."

But that's not possible in my case, I mentally finished the sentence Dad had not. I stared at him in horror. "So I am going to die? And the burning was just the beginning?" I felt hollow inside.

Mr. Hatchett quickly reached out and took my hands, squeezing them. "No," he said, but I didn't know which of my questions he thus answered. "The burns you described are the result of the nanites' energy burning away your biological energy. Organic cell energy and the nanites' energon-based energy aren't mutual, inducing incredible heat when the alien energy destroys the one produced naturally in your body. That's why you felt like being stabbed or as if burning from the inside. The metal growing would actually occur before a nanite's 'death,' but I suppose you never checked, only after the pain had subsided."

"So I'm not going to die?"

The question hung in the room, remaining unanswered.

When the silence became heavy and I was about to succumb to a full-blown panic, Mom asked, "What about her headaches?" Her voice shook; the revelations must have been as much a shock to her as to me. "Do they have something to do with… this too?" She gestured weakly in the general direction of my leg.

"Headaches?" Mr. Hatchett perked up.

I looked down, avoiding his probing gaze, while Dad said, "She complained about suffering from them, but as headaches are nothing too unusual, I didn't intervene apart from occasionally handing out pain reliever." He paused before admitting, "I didn't think they went hand in hand with the transformations."

Mr. Hatchett let go of my hands and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I suppose they resulted from the changes her nervous system underwent. It's possible that her body conducted a test to make sure the 'newly' created neural lines function properly. As the still organic part of the nervous system, the brain, was not used to it, it hurt."

"And voila, a headache," Dad mumbled.

Mr. Hatchett nodded and added, "If I'm not mistaken, the headaches will vanish again once the nervous system has completely been exchanged."

I guessed I could at least look forward to that one if nothing else. Then a thought occurred to me. "So my breakdown in gym finals –"

"– was the result of nanite energy burning off your biological energy at the same time of your partly altered nervous system conducting a functionality test," Mr. Hatchett finished my sentence. His face then took on a puzzled look. "What I don't understand is that the magnetic field of the MRT would wake up the dormant nanites to continue the transformation. Metal in an MRT scanner is highly dangerous, but I personally saw to it that the scanner's magnetic field wouldn't cause any problems. The only reaction was from the nanite in your heart. The magnetic field probably reacted with the drone's energon-based energy and sent it to go nova, but I can't explain why it would happen to only this one nanite and not the rest."

"I don't think it was any of the magnets that let the nanite explode." Mr. Hatchett threw a surprised look at Dad and he explained, "If that had been the case, why didn't it happen during the first hour? The explosion didn't happen before we took the second series of scans." He looked at me. "I believe it was the contrast agents. I assume their chemical composition didn't agree with the nanite's energy. Remember, you didn't feel well."

Mr. Hatchett frowned. "Interesting theory, but I repeat: Why only this one nanite and not the rest? The contrast agents spread out through her entire body."

Dad looked at me pensively, as if I was the answer to the question. Eventually, his expression changed to one of realization. He turned to Mr. Hatchett. "I introduced the contrast agents to her bloodstream, a vein to be precise. As the heart is basically the bloodstream's pump and literally sucks in blood from veins, the nanite within the heart would quickly come into direct contact with the chemicals, whereas the other nanites are scattered throughout tissue blood doesn't reach that easily, thus remaining unaffected."

So Dad had not only noticed that something had gone wrong, he could even explain why. And he still had never told me what was happening to me.

"Slag!" Mr. Hatchett suddenly mumbled viciously. When I glanced at him, he was looking down, balling his hands into tight fists. "That would mean it's my fault," he said quietly after another moment, close to whispering. "It was I who insisted on a scan with contrast agents…" He gritted his teeth in obvious self-loathing before meeting my eyes again. "I'm sorry, Chloe."

I stared at him, tongue-tied and wide-eyed, another wave of horror running down my spine. Tears threatened to fall again. My insides boiled in anger while terror held me in a vice-like grip. I didn't even know what to feel so what did he want me to say in response? I just learned that I was going to die from necrosis and that it was his fault, and he expected me to simply accept his apology, even if it was meant as sincere as it had sounded? The tears spilled over and I didn't stop them. I no longer cared. The trust I wanted to place in him was crushed to smithereens.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Dad reach out to his fellow doctor, like he wanted to comfort him, but he stopped before actually touching Mr. Hatchett. "You couldn't have known something like that would happen," he instead said, the tone consoling.

"It's our technology," Mr. Hatchett shot back. "I should have known!"

"If the Decepticons tinkered with it, who knows what programming they changed," Mr. Witwicky threw in. Dad nodded vehemently in agreement.

Mr. Hatchett turned pensive, still anguished. "You have a point; it would make sense. I would have to investigate that, but we may never know for certain as the possibly altered nanite is no longer existent." He sighed in obvious misery and my heart went out for him unconsciously. The tears stopped but I still didn't verbally accept his apology. The shock and disappointment sat too deep.

Mr. Prowl spoke, "Nonetheless, run some tests. Even unaltered nanites might tell us more."

"I concur," Mr. Prime added.

Silence fell again, only disrupted by Mom's sobbing and blowing her nose. Eventually, she said, "But how could her skin have… become like that if the MRT was… recalibrated?"

"If only I knew," came Mr. Hatchett's reply. "Where I couldn't get a detailed scan of the nanite in her heart, I got a log on the ones throughout her body, and their programming appeared to be like the one I use for nanites. That's what I used as a basis for recalibrating the MRT. It simply shouldn't have happened. But on yesterday's scan, we could clearly see how much the transformation had progressed, far beyond of what we had seen the first time. I just can't explain how it happened, more so because the skin change hadn't yet occurred in September and the nanites in her body were inactive."

"I believe it started end of February," Dad said, catching everyone's attentions. "Chloe's class was experimenting with magnetic fields in physics and hers exploded. About two weeks afterward, she no longer went swimming or wore shorts or skirts, only long trousers and socks in her shoes."

Mom glanced from Dad to me, wide-eyed. "I never noticed."

Dad squeezed her shoulder. "You were highly pregnant and then busy with Freda, darling."

"Now that you say it… Arcee informed me about the sudden change but I didn't understand how," Mr. Hatchett said. He then sent a glare in Mr. Prime's direction. "We could have had results much earlier if you had let me run tests as I asked."

"What difference would one week have made?" Mr. Prowl said.

Mr. Hatchett turned to glare at him. "I meant months ago."

Mr. Prime looked calmly back at the doctor. "Remember, old friend, you yourself said it wouldn't be wise to run tests when Arcee first informed us."

Mr. Hatchett pressed his lips together until they were a thin line, his eyes' expression a mix of anger and guilt. "At first! But when getting updates on her status, I asked you again – and you denied me! I might have been able to stop the transformation if I just had had access to her. That's why she's here on Diego Garcia after all."

"Ratchet," Mr. Witwicky intervened before Mr. Prime could say something, "'what if' is not going to change the current situation." He spoke softly, but the doctor reacted as if having been smacked.

He ground his teeth, seething, apparently trying to reign in his temper. After a moment, he began, "What I don't understand…" before turning around again and giving me a long look. "A magnet can't explode just like that," he said and snipped his fingers. "It must be overcharged. Did you tinker with the power circuits in this experiment?" His eyes narrowed slightly.

Blushing in embarrassment, I mumbled, "Yeah."

Mr. Witwicky shared a surprised glance with Colonel Lennox while I had every other eye on me.

"Why?" Mr. Hatchett probed.

I bit my lip. Would they think me crazy? "It felt… good," I replied in a small voice. "The magnetic field of the MRT felt great and I wanted to relive it again, so when we had that experiment, I rerouted the power to increase the field's energy to being able to feel it once more. I didn't notice that the magnets got overcharged."

Mr. Hatchett's frown deepened, his eyes flashing in anger. "Fool of a teacher!" he then suddenly burst out, making us all jump. "You would think that he builds in a fail-safe to prevent an accident like that. Even our younglings never sent the academy flying with experimentations gone wrong." Mr. Witwicky chuckled at Mr. Hatchett's irritation while Mr. Prime slyly said, "Don't forget about Wheeljack."

Colonel Lennox deadpanned, "Students in physics usually aren't as smart as Chloe seems to be. They follow the teacher's directions, do the experiments and are done with it. They would never think about rerouting power to see what happens to them if the magnetic field strengthens."

Mr. Hatchett huffed, highly irritated. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Though, that explains how the dormant nanites got reactivated. As the field they created in physics wasn't altered like the one in the MRT, it would of course have an effect." I shared a skeptical look with Mom and Dad, and out of the corner of my eyes I noticed Mr. Witwicky and Colonel Lennox doing the same. Sighing in exasperation, Mr. Hatchett explained, "A magnetic field creates a natural resonance which coincides with the nanites' frequencies, vivifying them. The more minute the concurrence, the greater the incentive. I altered the MRT's magnetic field by introducing a variance that dissolved the resonance, inhibiting a concurrence. Otherwise, we would have woken up the dormant nanites. Despite that variance, the resonance impacted on the nanites, enough to in turn affect your body; that's why the scans felt pleasant to you, Chloe.

"During that experiment in your class, however, there was no manually added variance, only the natural resonance. It could therefore coincide with the nanites' frequency, thus reactivating the dormant nanites. The explosion of the overcharged magnets only increased the impact the resonance had on them. If the experiment hadn't yet woken them, the explosion certainly did. The nanites then used every last bit of themselves to further the transformation before their left-over energy dissipated within your system."

I pondered what I had just learned, nodding absent-mindedly. From what I knew of physics, his explanations sounded well-grounded. Though, everything taken together was a lot to take in and I would need time to accept that this was now my situation. Right now it felt like it all didn't concern me but someone else. I guessed the truth would have to fully sink in first.

There was one point left I didn't understand. "Why did you wait until today to tell me? Why not tell me when I signed the NDA?"

Mr. Witwicky gently asked, "Would you have believed it if they had told you everything at once and not given you time to first of all accept that there are aliens on our planet?"

He had a point. "No."

He smiled knowingly while Mom asked with a shaking voice, "And now? What's going to happen?"

"Now," Mr. Prime said, "Chloe must make a decision what she wants."

"I want to live," I blurted out, without needing time to think.

Mr. Hatchett caught my eyes. "Then report to me as soon as you're back from your trip to the states."

Author's Note: So, here we are at the end of chapter 22, and you're now probably wondering what the heck this author note is about as I usually only write one at the beginning. I'm afraid it'll be a bearer of some sad news:

Seeing that my story parallels "Introduction: Annabelle Lennox" by the Botosphere, it'll be on hold until the three ladies get back to writing out Annabelle's adventures. That being said, I will continue with "Lyra." I'm not going to vanish in the dusky dawn. I still have lots of ideas and many things planned out for Chloe (several such scenes have already been written), enough to even warrant sequels to being able to fully tell her story. I know it's hard to make a cut just when things start getting really interesting, and I'm very eager to let you all read what'll happen to Chloe from here on out, but I ask for your patience. As soon as Annabelle's story continues to be told, Chloe's will be too. I hope to see you back when "Lyra" will be updated again.

Also, I wanted to say thank you where thank you's are due: Thank you all very much for your lovely feedback in the form of reviews, story alerts and/or setting "Lyra" to your favorites. Your support made me write faster to present you with regular updates.

Spark-felt thanks also go to Eowyn, Ish and Katey for allowing me to play within their fanon as well as use their OC's. "Lyra" wouldn't exist without the Botosphere, so thank you.

Last but not least, a very big thank you to my sister – for being the ball bouncing back ideas, the person getting my muse back on track when she was straying off-road, and for always giving me an honest opinion when I came up with another crazy thought (I'll just say "I ran out of milk" xD).

Finally, I wanted to tell you that, during the "break," I will work on other Transformers stories, so if you liked "Lyra," you might like my other stories too. I certainly would be happy to receive your feedback. :)