Magnus never thought he would be here—standing over you, a mangled, wounded mess. He had promised you he'd protect you with his life when you two got together, and now look where that has got him.

He kneels, and with utmost care, gently scoops your battered frame into his arms.

You're littered with injuries from a Decepticon attack—severe gashes, dents, and the sight of energon gushing from each deep cut on you made Magnus wince. He trudges back towards the starship in a desperate manner, internally pleading for your survival. What if he hadn't gotten there sooner? What if he had gotten there sooner?

His optics trail back to you every second he could, worried that'd if he held you in the wrong way—you'd disappear right out of his cold, shaking servos.

Curse this putrid planet. It was stupid of Rodimus to land here anyways.

He runs as fast as he can. He has to get you to Ratchet, or someone, or whoever—and ASAP.

He just can't break his promise.