Optimus was in deep trouble.

This much, he was sure of. He’d taken on three Decepticons at once before, and he’d taken on Megatron before, but never the two combined. His processors buzzed, trying to keep track of them all. And Sam—he had to make sure Sam was safe. If only he knew where the boy was—and where were the other Autobots? He sorely needed backup and someone to transport Sam away from the battle. There was no way a human could outrun this sprawling battle. Bumblebee would no doubt be glad to see his former charge again.

No! Focus! He had to focus. Where were the Decepticons? Starscream was standing in front of him, with a strange look on his face. Grindor was off to one side. And Megatron—

—Megatron was directly behind him, Optimus remembered with a shock.

His every instinct screamed at him to turn and fight, to bring a sword to bear against his enemy, but his body abruptly refused to respond. Somebody was saying something, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to understand it, trying to move and failing utterly. Something somewhere hurt, or maybe it was everywhere. He was having trouble concentrating enough to figure it out.

Optimus danced on the knife edge of terror, feeling absolutely helpless as his body swayed alarmingly. So far he was still on his feet, but that could change at any second. He could not even twitch as he began to fall over.

I hope Ratchet can fix this, he thought.

It was then that Optimus registered the gaping hole in his chassis.

Oh. That might have something to do with why his body would not react.

Optimus hit the ground with a rolling thud and a jolt of panic. How had he forgotten being impaled and shot? And why was he concerned with his short-term memory, when he was seconds from dying?

His head rolled on the grass, and his fading vision recognized Sam, staring at him in horror, frozen in disbelief. Optimus felt a surge of strange emotion at the sight. Had he really been viewed as so invincible, so godlike, that nobody had imagined him dying? Was it so hard to believe that Optimus Prime was also a mortal? And Sam stared and stared for an eternity that was less than a second.
Optimus tried once more to move; surely there was something he could do to break the spell. Sam needed to get out of here. Megatron would catch him easily, and there was nothing Optimus could do but force his vocal components to work.
“Sam, run…” he grated out. It was painful to talk, but he was accomplishing something. Sam blinked, but did not move. Optimus felt frustrated. Perhaps Megatron would linger to gloat over his corpse, and that would buy the human a few precious seconds. He wished Sam would use them better. He was fast nearing the end of his usefulness, perception and consciousness fading, and very soon there would be nothing more that he could do. Death was curling over him, an endless black hole of numbness and nothingness. Fighting it was useless, but he struggled anyway.

Sam turned, finally, and Optimus was gratified. He’d done something useful and worthwhile. Maybe now he could rest.

“Run…” he whispered, and let go.