Twenty years later

It had been a long time since she visited the attic.
It was spring, and perhaps it was a good time to do so.
She took off her apron and left the kitchen, walking up the stairs and up into the dark dusty attic where she and her husband stocked old things from ages past. There was an old box, over ten years old, with all the photographs of a life long left behind. In her new world, there were no giant visitors from Cybertron, no evil Decepticons. She was happy about that.
But there were no more heroic Autobots, and most unhappily of all, there was no Optimus Prime in her life. No more Convoy.
There was no giant, majestic sentinel to watch over her and keep her company. There was no courageous, humourous, radio-cranking Camaro warrior to bring a smile to her face. There was no quirky medical officer to ramble to her about the absurdities of robotic life, or learn hopscotch from her.
As she opened the box and blew the dust off the photos, she wondered how long they would be gone. They said they would return. She still hoped so very much for them to come back to Earth. Bumblebee and Jazz with their fun-loving antics, sweet and beautiful Arcee and her dark, brooding teacher, Ironhide – although, he had improved since she last bade goodbye to him. And of course, old, wise, sometimes eccentric Ratchet. How she missed them all.
‘Convoy,’ she murmured. ‘I wish I knew where you were now. Are you somewhere out there in the galaxy, on new adventures with the others? Are you fighting to save another planet? Do you even remember me? The little girl who wanted you to be her friend? The little girl who loved you?’
How could he remember. He must be several million light-years away. He is immortal as long as his Spark is inside him, while I’m going to pass away forever in several more decades. Could he remember such a fleeting time with me?
She took a particularly large photo out of the box, and smiled, the memories flooding back. ‘This is the one,’ she whispered in awe.
It was her wedding day. Eight years ago. Behind her and her Japanese groom stood the entirety of the original five of the towering, happy Autobots, from Fleet V and CELESTIAL – and along with second-in-command Jazz, they had come back just to attend her wedding, and to see Earth for one last time. And there he was, right at the back hiding behind a hill because of his bulk, Optimus Prime. His face still spanned much of the photo. And there was Arcee, holding Ironhide’s hand, who was averting his optic sensors from the camera. Bumblebee and Jazz stood together behind Michiko’s slightly intimidated husband, arms around each other’s shoulders. And there was Ratchet with the kids he had rescued from the orphanage against the Decepticons. They had now grown into beautiful adolescents, all five of them. Sora and Michael were dating, Emily had become a top-ranking journalist for the peaceful co-existence between humans and Cybertronians, and Tom and Frank had started a successful business for themselves. They all looked happy indeed. Smiling at Ratchet, at the Autobots, and at the happy couple.
So many wonderful beings she had made friends with, fought and lived alongside. How many had she loved. And there she was, in the middle of the photo, in a bright wedding gown, holding a bouquet of flowers and laughing. Laughing, crying in happiness. In love and loved.
She looked out the window at the cloudless sky and began to reflect on Prime’s last words to her a decade ago. She still remembered the despair when he told her: ‘I am leaving Earth for Cybertron, but only for a few years. The fragment of the Allspark inside me has made me very powerful – powerful enough to allow us to begin rebuilding our shattered planet.’
He had meant one word, and one alone: goodbye. How she hated that word. She had watched him fight, kissed him on his mouthplate, stood on the moon with him, looking at the planet he had saved. ‘Don’t be upset,’ said Prime, as he observed her trembling. ‘I must go… back. But my home is here. Here with you, and your family.’
‘What will I do without you?’ she sobbed miserably. She didn’t want to listen to him, no robot logic would convince her. All she knew and cared about was that he was leaving. He was leaving her behind, leaving her and her husband and her children. What a cold, heartless robot, what a uncaring, lumbering brute.
How she loved him. ‘Don’t leave me. You have given me so much. I want you to stay.’ And when he reluctantly shook his head, she beat her small, weak fists against him in a useless outrage as he held her close in his hand.
Prime promised her, ‘I will return as soon as I can to see you. Live and prosper. I cannot wait to see you even more grown up. That is how humans upgrade, right?’
‘I cannot wait that long,’ she cried.
Prime’s optics shone in compassion. ‘I will miss you too, dear Michiko. Watch the skies for me – someday, I will come to see you again.’
He may not have remembered what he had promised. But I still do, she thought. The hurt of his departure seemed irrational, unreasonable. Had he not told her he was leaving, promised her he would return? Why did it still hurt so much? She sighed, her voice trembling as she did. I will never see them again. She wiped away a tear, before putting the photo back in her box and stashing it back in her cupboard.

*

She had not noticed the beautiful afternoon clouds that dotted the blue sky outside the attic window.
Suddenly, she felt a soft shaking outside. Rumbling and a soft stomping could be heard. Just outside. Surprised birds fluttered into the sky, and the trees whistled, as if greeting an otherworldly guest.
Just like that time… could it be? Her heart pounding, she rushed downstairs and ran out the open door, not bothering to slip on sandals, almost tripping over herself in excitement, hoping against hope –
She felt young again.
‘Oh,’ she began to whimper, covering her mouth, tears forming in her eyes. ‘Oh, oh, oh. Oh…’
There he was.
There was Autobot Supreme Commander Optimus Prime, standing in the spot where she first discovered him as a child, in truck mode. Only this time, there was no crater. He was not damaged, and he seemed sturdier than ever. There was no destruction, no injury, no hurt. Not like last time.
He looked beautiful. Tears trickled down Michiko’s eyes as Prime looked down at her, his towering figure drawing closer as he went down on one knee. ‘My lovely Michiko,’ was all he said. She leaped into the palm of his hand and he lifted her to his face. She began to sob, embracing him, pressing her cheek against his mouthplate, tears running down metal. He had returned. He had really returned. It seemed like an eternity – there was no one else, no children, no husband, no other Autobots – only she and him. The sweet robot whom she loved. She did not move from Prime’s hand as he shuddered in rediscovered memories. Strong and unbreakable as the metal mountains of Cybertron.
‘Welcome home, darling,’ whispered Michiko triumphantly.

- the end -