Night.

The city is almost asleep, only neon signs are beating their last light into wet puddles. The alley smells of metal, dampness and alien, sticky danger. Somewhere in the distance rats are rustling, snagging empty cans, and this sound seems deafening in the silence.

You sat pressed against the cold brick wall, clothes crumpled, fingers shaking as if ice threads were frozen to them. Your head was spinning, your breathing was ragged - the world was alien, as if your voice and body no longer belonged to you.

And then - a heavy, dull roar of engines. The ground trembled under your feet. The narrow alley was lit up by the blue light of headlights, and a giant shadow covered the entire sky. Optimus.

He stopped, as if time had stopped. His optics flared brighter - and froze. In those seconds, he didn't look like a commander, a hero, or a warrior. He looked like his heart had broken in half.

"...Y/N?" — his voice was hoarse, quiet, almost disbelieving.

He slowly, impossibly carefully, dropped to one knee, so that the entire alley was muffled only by the grinding of metal. His huge palm hovered next to you, but did not touch you - as if he was afraid to cause even more pain.

You saw his optics trembling, his body moving in sharp, uncontrollable motions. He wanted to explode, to destroy everything that had hurt you, but first of all, he looked only at you.

“Look at me… please,” — he said almost in a whisper. — “You’re here, with me. I’m close.”

Optimus slowly extended his palm closer, its open surface like a platform.

“Allow me… to help you get up.”

You felt a slight draft from his movement — and his patience. He didn’t rush, didn’t tug. It was as if he was giving you the right to every second.

The city was noisy behind Optimus, but he shielded you from everything — from the wind, from the light, from memory, from someone else’s gaze. His body was shaking, every detail was filled with furious, dull anger, but for you it was quiet, even, almost gentle.

"Who did this…" — his voice suddenly croaked, and he lowered his optics so as not to burn you with rage again. — "I won’t ask now. The main thing is… you."

He leaned a little closer, so that his warm voice seemed to cover you with a dome.

"Let me take you from here. You’re safe. With me."