Hellloooo! More boring stuff last chapter, but we gotta set the scene! NOW WE CAN PLAY!

Shout out to nimbusthekitten111 for leaving such a thoughtful review. I'm glad you're showin' the Otten's some LOVIN'!

Looking for some thoughts - should we have Miri meet Prime's holoform first!? Or should she discover the holoform later? I can go either way with the storyline I have plotted, at this point it's up to YA'LL! LET THY THOUGHTS POUR FORTH! I know what I'd love to see, but this isn't really only about me, now is it?

And, yayz for newish cover artz. As always, glaring errors are Megatron's fault - someday we'll have to start dragging Starscream or Soundwave in there too, though I feel like Soundwave would be a grammar Nazi...though I have to ponder this because maybe he'd be a dw33b and type like we used to text... *eyes suspiciously from corner* -_-

Love you all and all ze reviewzies! xoxoxo

After their official interview at the NEST base had concluded, it had taken Miri and her family all of three days to traverse back across the continental United States to arrive back home, where the days were somehow shorter, emptier, and a whole lot colder. Goosebumps had raced up her arms when they'd arrived home, finding the property dark beneath a sky filled with stars.

Three days without hearing word from Lennox or anyone with the government had put her father on edge. John Otten hadn't done close to a complete task since their arrival home, which had, in turn, rendered everyone at home and their work office more than on edge - Miri was certain August was going to blow a gasket. For the third time since her arrival in the office that morning, her father had marched into the space and bothered August for an update, leaning over the man's blueprints with a filthy rag over his shoulders and a welding helmet under arm.

The entire office was beginning to smell like sweat and grinding sparks. Miri didn't rightfully mind, as she spent plenty of time in the work bay with her father, but August's temper was getting the better of her decent mood as she was trying to run payroll. From the corner of her eye she saw August drop his reading glasses to the light table, only to rub at his eyes harshly while letting his head fall back.

August let out a moan of aggravation. "Dad, you gotta stop," the man's voice was muffled through his hands as his fingers massaged his eyes aggressively. "I'm not nearly going to have these plans finalized for that dealership lift if you keep poking your nose in here." With a flappable hand, he waved their father off. "Go back to work so I can work. Please."

Miri looked up from the computer she'd been clicking away on, only to lean back in her chair and give her dad a thin smile. He frowned at his son, then looked over at her, dotting the corner of a bandanna across his forehead to collect sweat. Instead of cleaning his brow, he left a smudge of grease, which made the corner of Miri's mouth lift. Stepping away from the light table, he moved across the office to her, and leaned against her desk, depositing his helmet off to the side.

His brow was furrowed, unseriously. "Any word from the Major yet, sweetheart?" He glanced over his shoulder carefully, to find August had buried himself back into his work hole, bent over a ruler running measurements on the blueprint. "I guess I gotta ask someone helpful around here to get something done," he chimed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Both he and Miri waited for the statement to drop fully in August's brain.

When it did, his head snapped up, and he whipped his glasses back on the table before him, along with the ruler. "Come on! I'm working double time to get these prints done before we move across the country! Or did that escape your senile, grease-coated mind?" He was trying hard not to laugh, though when their father made a finger gun and pretended to pull the trigger, August's mouth dropped open, eyeballing his sister as their father let out a roaring laugh.

Miri clicked a few keys on her laptop, spotted an empty email, and then returned to her payroll spreadsheet as she shook her head. She sent the document to the printer then stood, walking across the office to retrieve the report. Unfortunately the printer was mounded with more of August's blueprints, and she lifted a stack, as she had for the past year, to retrieve the paper from the tray. Flicking her finger against the corner, she went to move back to her desk, before reaching over to tap the back earpiece of August's glasses, making them pop up off his nose.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, Auggie," she smarmed at him, wrinkling her nose teasingly.

He popped to attention, jolting in surprise before he whirled on his chair at her. Both of them had worn glasses since childhood, and it had been a game they'd developed since their years in school - sneak up on the unsuspecting sibling and see how many times you could make their glasses snap on their nose. Miri couldn't help but laugh as his nose sprouted a small red dot where the glasses connected, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter when his face turned into a serious wrinkle. He glowered at her as her father shook his head, waving them off.

Her father watched her deposit the report at their mother's corner workstation, where it would be filed with other weekly reports their mother looked over. She turned back around only to find her father had produced a ballcap and welding goggles, as well as a pair of heavy duty gloves from his belt. He extended them to her while slipping his helmet back into place, popping up the visor to offer her a half smile and sparkling eyes.

"Wanna help you Pa out for a sec, Miri honey?" His question wasn't really a question, more of an invitation than anything else, though her smile back at him gave him all the response he needed as she plucked the gear from his hand. She snapped the goggles on, slipped her curls into a low bun and through the back of the ballcap, and worked the gloves on as her father turned on his heel and guided her back into the workshop.

Clapping both hands on his shoulders from behind, she stood on her toes and whispered into his ear. "How could I say no when you ask so nicely?" Her barb made him smile, and he whirled around to drape an arm across her shoulder, giving her a tight squeeze. The visor of his helmet collided with her forehead, making her squeal and reel back from him, though he made an apologetic face and guided her foreword with a jerk of his head.

He ran the pad of his thumb beneath his nose before lowering the visor of his welding helmet. "Need ya to spot weld a bit for me so Ma and I can secure that frame piece," he said, his voice garbled beneath the visor. "Should only take a few minutes."

Miri could only roll her eyes as she worked the goggles over her glasses, quite familiar with her father's version of "minutes" when it came to his prized 1972 Plymouth Cuda. They'd been working on its restoration here and there for a year or so, though it was mostly always interrupted due to work projects, business trips, or in cases such as their present state, relocation.

She approached the back of the shop, the heels of her square-toed cowboy boots quietly ticking off the concrete floor. She immediately saw that the Cuda was in the air, thanks to an industrial huge blue-and-yellow garage lift, its undercarriage bore to the entire world, rust and all. Her father had cornered off the southern delivery bay, which was currently not in regulation due to grease and maintenance pits that her father had failed to remove - instead, the space had become John's "office," or, as Miri always commented, his "hoarding hole." When he wasn't supervising projects on the floor, he was tooling around his private corner of the world.

Miri pulled her hair back beneath the color of the welding jacket her father had handed her, making sure to smooth her curls into submission. Her father moved to the lift controls, and Miri found her mother was already beneath the project, adjusting the argon gas on a MIG welder. Her own welding hood was lifted, though her forehead was stained with grease that she didn't seem to notice.

Wren smiled as her daughter approached. "Hi there, Sugar," she leaned across the welder to kiss the corner of Miri's lips affectionately. The sparkle in her mother's eye was hardly shadowed beneath the visor, which made Miri smile. "Any word from those military boys?" She then began to scan the floor, working a glove off to reach for a grease pen in the front pocket of her leather apron.

Miri shook her head, moving in to stand beside her mother. "No, not yet," she commented, craning her head back to look beneath the undercarriage. "They said two weeks. It's been four days," she looked over to her father, who had started rummaging through a box of parts. "Not sure that August can handle Dad's lack of patience," her mother eyeballed her with cool look, nodding her understanding.

She squinted and reached up on her toes to mark an 'X' with the pen. "Your father is just excited," she commented quietly, hardly pressing the tip of the pen to the undercarriage steel. "This is the contract he's been waiting for. He'll be able to retire early and hand the business over to August and Dirk within three years. It's wat he's always wanted." Finally making contact, she marked the spot, and withdrew her hand from beneath the vehicle. "And besides, you know Dad has the patience of a jackrabbit," Miri bit her bottom lip and tried to hide a subtle snort. "Exactly," was all her mother conceded.

Miri bit the inside of her cheek, somewhat nervously. The mention of her father's retirement - and the absence of her name in the conversation regarding beneficiaries of his business legacy - threw a sour stone in the pit of her stomach. She'd given everything for the family business after college, and loved what she did - so much so that she'd often overlooked being overlooked herself. She couldn't imagine being anywhere else in her career than she already was - an Executive Officer at 27 years old was nothing to sneeze at. She was the face of her father's business, sure - but August and Dirk? They knew the ins-and-outs, the designs, the staff. She knew the clients and the marketing and the numbers. Her brothers and her father were a team, and she was...alone on her own administrative island.

It didn't bother her. Most days.

She pulled a thin-lipped smile at her mother, who was busy watching John. "John! Are you comin' or what? I have to call the insurance broker at two, so let's get this over with!" She retrieved the welding torch from its place on the stand, then scanned the floor. "You seen my striker anywhere, sweetheart?" The comment was directly at Miri, though it was spoken to the floor.

Miri spotted the end of the tool overhead, balance on the doorframe of the Cuda. Reaching for it, she plucked it from the frame and handed it over to her mother, who smiled sheepishly at Miri's pointed look. Wren Otten may have been her husband's organizational rock, but she had her momentary lapse of smarts. Nodding her head to drop the visor into place, Wren stoked the striker three times, before lifting her face to Miri. It was concealed beneath her visor, giving her an otherworldly appearance.

Miri stepped back, lifted her welding goggles, and turned away, only to find her father holding another torch and striker out to her. His own face was hidden as well, and Miri accepted the tools from him. John moved to wheel the welding stand behind his daughter as he guided her around to the other side of the lifted vehicle, raising a hand to point to a marked spot that had been plotted for welds. Stoking the striker a few times, she lit the torch, the flame popping to life in an array of hot sparks.

Her attention was lost beneath the carriage of the car as she set to work, as were the concerns that she belonged anywhere but here.

. . .

It was a little after two when Miri and her mother called it quits beneath the Cuda. Her mother practically flew to her Jeep Wrangler, which was parked outside the office, her phone pressed to her ear and a notebook and file tucked beneath her arm as she spoke to the aforementioned insurance broker. Miri passed by the vehicle only to see her mother practically writing notes, the Wrangler idling steadily as she did.

She found the office all but deserted; August having moved to the floor within the shop to run specs with a building crew. Dirk hadn't emerged from the project he'd been absorbed in, confirmed by his darkened workspace which hadn't been touched for weeks, much less the workday. The mounting pile of quality control checks and red flag tags was starting to topple onto his keyboard, which made the corner of Miri's lips upturn into a smile.

Closing her laptop and sending her phone to voicemail, she gathered her purse and jacket, depositing the welding goggles on the desk beside her calculator. Slining her purse over her shoulder, she hardly heard the body come up from behind her, only aware of it when the familiar scent of grinding sparks filled her senses, warm breath tracing down the back of her neck. She turned, lifted her hair from the collar of her shirt, and smiled at the man who'd entered the office.

Erik, the Lead Foreman for their primary shop, stuffed gloves into the wasteband of his mechanics suit, which unzipped to tie the sleeves around his waist. Stained with grease and filled with welding holes, he looked like a ragtag homeless man more than he did a supervisor, which was one of the things Miri so admired about him - he lead from beside his crew, not above them. Most days she found Erik taking the bottom-of-the-totem-pole jobs for himself, only breaking away when asked a question or needed for supervisory authority.

He raked a hand through his quaffed hair, looking over to August's now darkened print table. "August not around?" He gave her a questioning look as Miri leaned against her desk, crossing her arms in front of her. She dropped her bag to the computer chair, and rolled it with her foot to stand between them. Erik approached it, resting his hands on the back of the seat.

She shook her head. "He's with Team C," she nodded to the appropriate door leading to the designing lab, "Going over designs for that dealership lift we got in last week. Should be heading to production hopefully by end of week," she raised her brows a little, looking to her booted feet before sheepishly look up at him. "That the only reason you came all the way across the shop? To look for August?"

Immediately Erik's head dropped to look at the floor. "Miri, not now," he heaved a sigh, pushing the chair out in front of him to stretch his back. He didn't look up at her, leaving Miri instead to stare into his absolutely envious head of blonde curls. "I'm not really in the mood to talk about us. You just got back." He peeked a look up at her, his face almost deadpanned.

Miri slowly exhaled through her nose, trying to hide her disappointed sigh. She'd been dating Erik for only a few weeks, after accepting his proposal for dinner and drinks one late night after shift. She hadn't been in a serious relationship ever in her adult life, and the idea of dating someone her father not only approved of - but promoted within his company - was thrilling. His good looks aside, Erik was a decent man, albeit a little conceited - he was confident, charming, and the only man who had taken interest in her since high school.

Blinking at him, she stood to move the chair aside. He stood, staring down at her, his face unreadable. Very suddenly he reminded her of Major Lennox, who had looked at her with a blankness that was almost alarming. She scanned Erik's eyes for only a moment, unable to find the familiar sparkle that had been there since day one at the company. Instead, they looked dark and almost bored. Her brow furrowed slightly, a flame of worry sparking in the corner of her ribs.

She swallowed. "I've been gone for a week, Erik," she responded, voice small. She folded her arms across her chest, raising her shoulders innocently. "You said we'd talk about things when I got back. Well, I'm back," she shrugged a shoulder, gesturing between them with her hand. "Let's have a conversation."

He sighed, let his head fall back, and rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. "All I need is the transport documentation for tomorrow's AM ship," he put up his hands, plucking his gloves from the waist of his jumpsuit. Her attention turned to her mother's workspace, where the paperwork was resting in her file box. Following her gaze, Erik moved to intercept them.

"Erik," she said placatingly. "Please, let's just talk -"

He grabbed the file, smacked it against his other hand, and turned away from her, moving to the door he'd entered from. "I'm not doing this with you," he didn't even look up from the file as he placed one of the gloves between his teeth, expertly working the other on as he scanned the record. He reached for the door, called out to one of the crewmembers, and slammed the door closed behind him, leaving Miri standing in the office, stunned into silence.

She watched the door a few moments, as if he'd come marching back through. Once satisfied that he was gone, her forehead set into a deep frown, the corners of her lips pulled tight. A blast of heat pulsed through her veins, setting an angry fire to her cheeks that flamed down her neck. Turning sharply on her heel, she plucked her purse from the chair, rummaged through it furiously for her keys, and tromped out of the office loudly. She was halfway down the corridor leading to the building's entry when Dirk stepped out of the door leading to the parts vault, a box tucked under his arm.

She brushed by him, working the key to her truck free from its tangle with her leather keychain. Hot, salty tears had begun to pull at the corner of her eyes but she ignored them, stalking down the hallway with a fire that made her older brother pause. He reached for her when she moved by him, his thick hand landing on her shoulder comfortingly. Miri didn't stop, however, and jerked away from him, reaching up to swipe at the fat tears welling behind her glasses.

"Miri, what's going on?" Her brother said quietly, his words following her down the corridor as she breached the front door. He watched her practically punch her number into the code reader, the light flashing green and buzzing her out with a sharp, electric scream. She could hear his heavy footfalls following after her as she shouldered open the door with force.

The sound of catching the door with a smack of his arm against it was unmistakable, but wasn't enough to stop her angered escape from the building. He called after her, but Miri focused her gaze on her truck. She didn't look back as she threw her purse across the console to the passenger seat, practically flinging herself into the driver's seat as she slammed her foot against the brake and punched the ignition button on the dash. The truck roared to life and she threw it into reverse, hitting the accelerator. The heel of her boot caught the floormat, but she didn't care.

She saw Dirk jogging after her in the rearview, and tore out of the parking lot with a pulse of her tires against the pavement. It was only when the truck's RPMs leveled that she noticed her cellphone buzzing in her butt pocket. It vibrated against the leather seat, and she squirmed to retrieve it, sniffling away the remainder of her tears. She didn't even check caller ID as she slipped the phone between her shoulder and cheek, cradling it against her collarbone.

She ran the back of her hand beneath her nose, sniffling again. "Yeah," she barked angrily into the phone, her eyes cemented on the pavement before her, which rolled beneath the truck fiercely as she fed it diesel. Her grip was white-knuckled in anger on the wheel, her brain replaying Erik's words hotly as she remembered the bored and flat look in his eyes as he'd studied her.

Somewhere over the line, there was the low rumble of an engine. "Miri? This is Major Will Lennox," she snapped to attention, jerked the wheel to the right, and slammed the brakes when her tired hit the gravel of the road's shoulder. Her heart kicked into a higher gear and her breathing picked up, and Miri planted her heel on the floorboards as she held the brake, reaching up to rake her hand through her disheveled curls. "Is now a good time? I wanted to discuss the Joint Chiefs of Staff and their decision on your family's proposal..."

She felt her throat close only minutely, almost entirely missing the rest of his statement. Her eyes found the rearview, and her astounded expression, as her brain stumbled to keep up with the words floating across the line from his end of the country. She felt the lump in her chest kick heartily against her ribs when the finality of his statement hit the processing center of her brain.

"...welcome to NEST, Miss Otten."