In the year since he'd been gone, Megan had finished college, gotten a new job, moved to another country, halfway around the world, and changed her name, which had made finding her that much harder.

Not impossible, but certainly not easy.

Megan Blanc, formerly Megan Emerson, had gone to the other side of the glob to run from something, some big gaping hole in her chest. She'd deleted all her social media, lost contact with most of her old friends, and left no information as to where she was headed, all so she could disappear.

It would've worked too, if not for the pictures of that 1968 convertible mustang, white with red detailing, that had shown up in the United Kingdom. A little more research and finding Megan hadn't taken too much effort after that.

After he'd made that pit-stop, sneaking onto that cargo plane had been easy enough, once he'd hacked the cargo manifest and put himself on it. In fact, it'd been almost too easy, and during the trip, he'd accessed employment records from every potential employer and found Megan had to work during the time he was arriving.

He didn't know how he'd be able to wait even a few more hours. Not with her being so close, and him being so desperate- but he stayed away.

She probably didn't even want to see him, he thought bitterly to himself. Those sleek rims spun slowly as the red and white 2018 Ford Mustang GT crept out of its transport. Quickly, the car was thrown into gear, and he took off as fast as he could, knowing that sticking around was not in his best interest.

—

Drift stood in front of the little home that she'd made for herself. Three stories, skinny as frag, and identical to each of the surrounding homes, it was just like everyone else's, but he cared more for it than he did any other place in the world. The holoform was different than he'd remembered. Skinnier, lacking in some muscle, a couple new scars in highly visible places, and maybe a bit paler, but still the same face, no matter how hollow-looking it was. He'd found the spare key inside of the fake rock easily enough, opened the front door, and stepped inside.

It was nothing and everything like he'd expected. Pictures were everywhere. Pictures of Megan with her friends, family, her pets, and much to his surprise, pictures of him. Of them. At the beach, going camping, watching movies, having candlelit dinners, and one of him, one he hadn't realized she'd taken.

The sun was setting behind him, and he was smiling, looking right behind the camera to see the person behind it, those blue eyes full of such joy. He'd never realized that's how he'd looked at her. Just like she'd always looked at him, he realized. Touching one of the picture frames reverently, his shaking fingers traced the outline of her face in one of the pictures wishing not for the first time that he'd never left.

As his steel-capped boots slowly made their way across the wooden floor, he made his way deeper into the kitchen area, where he nearly tripped over a set of bowls in the middle of the doorway. Cursing and stumbling to try and regain his balance, Drift turned his head to see that they'd formerly been occupied by some sort of cat food and water.

Cats? Didn't Megan prefer dogs? Yet, along came the purring happy little animal, rubbing its head all over his ankles, and meowing as it stood there, looking up at him. Hesitant, for he knew the reasons why she didn't like cats too much, Drift reached out a hand to pet the animal, and was pleasantly surprised when it rubbed its face into his fingers.

Scratching softly behind the ears, the little guy meowed happily when another hand came along so that his attention was completely on the gentle little orange four-legged creature. It purred and meowed happily, even when he picked the small animal up and continued one-handed attention as he attempted to read the name on the tag it wore.

Rodimus? He wondered faintly, allowing the small creature to slink out of his hands and onto the countertops, strutting easily as it continued its sweet little chatter.

The name certainly was fitting, that much was for sure. The small creature was as much of an attention hog as his friend, and the right colors too.

The soft patter of paws on tile make his spark seize in horror, but when he looked at… Rodimus, the small cat was walking on the floor like he'd been put there by Primus himself. The creature eventually wandered out of the room, leaving Drift to wander its small abode.

That for sure was absolutely nothing like what he'd expected.

—

She didn't know what to make of the white sports car in front of her house when she got home that day. It had taken her months to stop looking at every white vehicle twice after he'd vanished, and it wasn't like she planned on taking a massive step backwards again. She opted to dismiss it as her neighbor's friend or something and continued past.

Hoping and praying to find what she was looking for had left her waiting for something that clearly was never going to happen. Every single time, she was disappointed. It seemed her dreams weren't meant to survive the brutal reality that was her life after all.

She squashed that miserably train of thought and hauled herself up the stairs to unlock the townhouse door, keeping those groceries in paper bags from falling and tearing with one leg propped up against a wall. Megan scowled, brushing the few stray strands of hair behind her ear. Short as it was now, it still never listened, slipping out of ponytails and into her eyes whenever she worked, and God forbid it ever began to get frizzy again. Whenever humidity struck, Megan was loathe to leave the safety of her house.

With enough fiddling, eventually the door creaked open, and she maneuvered

Her keys jangled and scattered, dancing all across the scratched, aging wooden table just beside the front door, and she kicked the door shut with her foot, proceeding further through the den and into her kitchen. Rodimus was meowing and greeted her happily, tail slinking back and forth as he moved around her feet. It made getting to the counter to put down the groceries that much harder, but she didn't really mind. It made her feel welcome and loved when she came home.

Once she'd dumped her armload of things onto the stone surface in front of her, she plopped down on the ground to allow the cat to crawl into her lap happily. He purred as she scratched the back of his head, and seemed extremely happy with himself, "Oh, I know!" She cooed gently, "It is so very good to see you, Roddy, now isn't it?" Megan grinned at the meow in response. The brunette could have spent hours there, petting her precious cat, and may very well have taken the opportunity if not for the crisp knock on her front door.

Frowning, she offered the happy cat a few more strokes before she moved to stand up. Roddy jumped out of her lap and made his way over to his food bowl, munching happily.

Meanwhile, Megan wondered to herself who could possibly be knocking. Her friends were all working or on vacation, and she wasn't expecting anyone, so there was not a clue in her mind as to who might be knocking at her door. She hadn't even kicked her shoes off yet, but at least she wouldn't be answering the door in her pajamas.

One pale hand reached for the doorknob, while the other clenched behind her. She breathed in and then out, counted to five, and pulled the door open.

Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't this. The holoform of a scarred, paler, weary-looking swordsmech stood at her door, and she had to hold back a cry. He looked absolutely terrible, and she'd known that their holoforms were direct representations of their original selves, but this was something at a whole other level. Drift looked almost tortured, but he was smiling at her. Through whatever pain and suffering he'd endured, he was in front of her and smiling like a shy schoolboy in a military uniform.

"Drift," she breathed, "You're here,"

He nodded numbly, not moving otherwise, not even to speak. He didn't need to. She threw her arms around him and near sobbed in relief, that tension leaving every muscle in her body. All of her prayed and hoped and begged that this wasn't a dream, that he wouldn't vanish and splinter into a million specks of light just like every other time, but he remained, returning the bone-crushing embrace a little gentler than she was holding him, but no less firm.

They stood like that for a good while, Megan just holding onto him like a lifeline, not caring for anything else, not even the stares they got from the neighbors. She just got to breathe like that for a while and think of nothing else. The world around them gave way, and before she realized what was happening, Drift was slipping away from her and reaching into his pocket.

He turned away for the briefest of moments, and before she could wonder what he was doing, the camouflaged pants wrinkled as he bent down on one knee and held up a small black box.

"Megan Emerson," he began gently, looking up at her with those adoring eyes, never having lost that smile. It only grew bigger when she gasped, water forming in her eyes, "Will you marry me? Be my conjunx endurae? Just… be mine?" He laughed, a mix of nervousness and just pure joy coming from every single part of him as he looked up at the woman he loved more than anything else.

She had to bite back that sob to try and keep it back, but failed miserably, distracted only by Rodimus' furry butt trying to escape through the open door. Drift scooped up the cat, and laughed, kissing those tears away to try and make her laugh again, offering her ring to her, the small silver band pinched between his fingers.

She took it in her hand, admiring the most amazing ring she could have dreamed of, and laughed through the tears. Those adoring green eyes looked up from the purring feline between them, and she nodded, laughing to herself as he traded her the cat for the ring, helping it find its home on her finger, and offering sweet kisses as they moved into the house, closing the door behind them.

Rodimus was put onto the nearest couch, and the two of them laughed and kissed and laughed some more as Drift followed her into the kitchen, putting neglected groceries in the refrigerator and trying not to burn whatever it was they'd started cooking. Still, the distraction was welcome, and amid all of the hand-holding, smooches and giggles, she marveled at how she could have ever lived without this.