Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.


You're scared.

You don't tell anyone, you've never really told anyone. Not Mikaela, not your parents, not Bee or any of the other Autobots. No one. No one who you've dragged into this whole mess along with you, and it's kind of something you're really not going to tell anyone else. Because you're a man. You're Sam, you're Sam Witwicky. And you realized, after all this shit with the Decepticons, the things you've been through, the people you've seen die, that you were written off for this kind of fate a long time ago, and it's just the kind of thing you've gotta face, you just have to say, "Fine," and do what they say. Fate's not the kind of thing you argue.

But no one ever asked you, "Hey, Sam, you wanna risk your life to save the world and everyone who lives in it?" or some kind of question like that. No one asked you to fight this battle. It wasn't your battle before, but now it is, and you have no idea how it became that but now it is and you hate it because you don't want to fight this. You don't want to.

And yet you end up here, in some sweltering, torturing desert in Egypt, where you're running, you're running as fast as you can because you don't think you could handle it if everything, everything you've been through, all that you've done is going to be for nothing, you don't want it all to be shit. Your hand is clutched tight around the bag, and you're not sure if you're going to be able to let go of it once you get to Optimus.

You are faintly aware that you are screaming, not the kind of scream you let out when you found out that freaky-girl (you've forgotten her name already… and hopefully soon, you'll forget her) was a Decepticon, but it's more of a I'M-NOT-GONNA-TAKE-ANY-CRAP-FROM-YOU! scream. There are things exploding and Mikaela is yelling like she's dying but you can hear her footsteps behind you, so you continue. Everything is happening in slow motion and it's like your ears have popped because you can barely hear anything but the sound of your feet softly hitting the sand, causing an explosion of dust to erupt every step. It's like your unconscious, in a coma, watching everything around you but nothing is watching you.

And suddenly something hits you, you're knocked to the ground and you think for a little while, this is kind of cool, it's like you're on a trampoline and you're doing flips. But when you hit the ground reality sets back in and you're reminded cruelly that this is nothing fun. For a little while you're aware of the searing pain in your chest where the fire's burnt away your t-shirt (you warned your mother those $3 shirts at Wal-mart were crap) and started eating away at your skin.

But finally the pain is too much and you ebb away slowly, slipping into the darkness, and everything is black.