Author's Notes: I had some musings about eventually writing the story of how Malcolm first met Angie in the wake of the Decepticon attack against Chicago after finishing 'I'll Sit Forever with the Gods,' but nothing solid. Sort of a 'maybe someday.' But Thursday was my supervisor's last day in our office, and to say good-bye, we had lunch at a local Ruby Tuesday's. On the way, I popped in my Survivor CD, which starts off with 'I Can't Hold Back.' And all of a sudden, I had a boatload of images in my head. Funny how that works sometimes. Unlike its predecessors, this story will be multiple chapters. Also unlike its predecessors, this story won't be as Transformers-heavy. Oh, the characters (especially NEST) will be here, but you really don't need to know the movie … any of the Transformers movies. Please note: no one from Team Arrow will be here. Tommy will be mentioned, but that's about it (unless he decides to throw me a curveball, and that's not outside the realm of possibility).

Disclaimer: Malcolm Merlyn isn't mine. Neither are the Autobots, Decepticons, members of NEST or their families. Angie and her family, friends, co-workers are. Don't mind if you borrow them, just ask first and return them intact. The title also doesn't belong to me … it comes from 'I Can't Hold Back' by Survivor, from their 1984 album Vital Signs, as does the title of this first chapter.

Chapter One

On the Edge

Chicago, Illinois

A week after the end of the Decepticon blockade

On a scale of one to ten, this rated at least a thirty on the 'dumbest thing I've ever done' scale. Ordinarily, that wouldn't worry her … after all, she was normally sensible. In fact, she was the dutiful daughter growing up, leaving the wild child schemes to her older sister Lorelei. However, at the moment, she was the one surrounded by thugs after dark in Decepticon-ravaged Chicago. Definitely not one of her smarter moves. But at the time, there was no one else available to make this supply run, and she wasn't about to interrupt the desperately needed sleep of the soldiers who helped to free Chicago. Where she made her worst mistake, however, was assuming that a route that was always safe in the past was safe now.

And that was why she was currently in this mess. So. Sitrep, borrowing a phrase she heard from her new friends in NEST: she was roughly half a mile from the NEST encampment with the needed supplies in her handy-dandy backpack, surrounded by men (at least, she was assuming that they were male … then again, assuming got her into this mess in the first place) who seriously didn't have her best interests at heart. Oh Angie, she thought, just how in the hell did you manage to do this to yourself? It never occurred to her to try to talk her would-be assailants out of whatever they wanted to do.

Besides, there was no time to talk. One moment, they were drawing in an ever-tighter circle around her … and then next? Well, the next, they were dropping like flies. Literally. They were sprouting black arrows in their chests and eyes, and literally dropping to the ground in a nice little circle around her. Angie Curtis looked from the bodies to … well. That was something you didn't see every day. A figure attired entirely in black stood a few yards away on a mound of debris. She stared … and stared. And stared some more, because even with the insane turns her life took recent … even with the Autobots and the Decepticons and the near-destruction of everything that she loved, this completely blew her mind.

"Are you all right? You shouldn't be here … this isn't a safe place for you," the figure observed. Angie heard a bark of laughter, and was stunned to realize that it came from her. Well. That wasn't good. In the part of her mind that was behaving normally, she was aware that laughter was not an appropriate reaction to these circumstances. But what was appropriate? Angie wasn't even sure if that word applied to life any more. The figure came closer, and Angie instinctively backed up. The figure stopped, lowering the bow, and said, "I mean you no harm. You're from the soldiers' camp?"

She nodded a bit numbly, and her unexpected rescuer said, "I will accompany you back to that camp. You carry riches." The bow dipped, indicating the backpack she carried … the food she looted from the abandoned stores. Looted. She wondered a bit numbly when she became a criminal. On the other hand, the food would have wasted and there was no one she could have paid, so was she still a criminal? She would have to ask Colonel Lennox … Will … when she got back to the camp. A gentle hand slid under her elbow and Angie looked up, staring up at this dark archer who saved her life, who now repeated, "You need an escort … it isn't safe."

"It's not safe anywhere any more. This area? It used to be a nice part of town. Not like home, but there's no place in the world that's like Texas. But this place, it was nice on its own merits. And now, it's just trash, because a group of alien bullies decided that they were better than us because they were bigger than us. Hey, I won't say that humanity's perfect. Far from it. We do pretty shitty stuff to each other and to …" Angie rambled, and broke off. She covered her mouth with her hand, not sure if she would start crying or start vomiting, and right now, neither was a particularly attractive option for her. The hand under her elbow tightened, and she whispered, "Dammit, I'm making Sentinel Prime's case for him."

"You are not. The world is burning around you, yet you're trying to help other people. But right now, you need help. Come," the black-clad archer beckoned and Angie stumbled along beside him. He said nothing as they walked, but Angie didn't really care. The events of the night were starting to hit home for her, and she began trembling. The hand under her elbow gave way to a hand at the small of her back, both reassuring her and pushing her forward. Angie focused on that, and on putting one in front of the other. One foot, the other foot … one foot, the other foot. Soon, she was so focused on that, she didn't even realize she was walking alone. Not until Sarah Lennox was throwing her arms around her and Bobby Epps was relieving her of the food she'd retrieved did Angie realize that she was safe. And it was then that her legs gave way, sheltered protective in Sarah's fierce embrace. Neither she, nor her NEST friends, noticed the figure in black watching over them all. Nor did they see him turn and disappear into the night. If she did notice, and her brain was functioning the way it normally did, she would have asked the boys in NEST exactly who that masked man was.

TWTWTWTWTWTW

Will Lennox was not a very happy colonel. He was enraged when his government kicked the Autobots off the planet … heart-sick when he watched Optimus and the others, his friends, get blown out of the sky … and then nearly dizzy with relief when he learned the Autobots were very much alive. He was still grieving the loss of Ironhide … he didn't want to grieve for Angie Curtis as well. The petite Texan had been a big help to him and NEST since they took back Chicago. As Angie told him when she drove him to the airport to pick up Sarah and Annabelle, there were a lot of things she couldn't do. Her job no longer existed, because the company was gone. But she could take care of NEST … do little things that made their lives just a bit easier.

The supplies could have waited until tomorrow. They had enough food and there was no need for Angie to leave the camp tonight. But, of course, it wasn't night when she left. It was a misjudgment … she thought she'd have time to get back before nightfall, because it was normally no more than a fifteen minute walk, twenty tops. But that was when there weren't obstacles to climb over or go around. It was just a misjudgment, but one that could have gotten her killed. Right, he thought sourly, and your judgment was so great when you came up with the plan to hide the Cube from the Decepticons in Mission City?

The food was being put away (with Annabelle's 'help'), and Sarah continued to hover protectively over Angie. The brunette offered him a weak smile, saying, "So, how much trouble am I in, Colonel?" Will leaned against the wall opposite his new friend, giving her a quick once-over. She was slowly regaining her color, but still looked rattled. At least now, she didn't look like she would puke up everything she'd eaten in the last few days. Will sighed, folding his arms over his chest as he regarded her.

"Gotta be honest with you, Angie … if you were in NEST, I'd have your ass on KP duty for a week, at the very least. But … you aren't in NEST, and technically, you're not even a civilian contractor. And, you didn't disobey any instructions," he observed, noting that she looked in no way relieved. Will continued, choosing to put her out of her misery, "Don't do that again, Angie. You scared the hell out of us, and you put yourself in danger. We're trained for this, okay?" She nodded a bit numbly, and Sarah once more put her arm around her. This time, however, Angie leaned into her, allowing her head to rest on her shoulder.

"C'mon. Bed, now. And if I have to, I'll get Annabelle to help tuck you in," Sarah urged, helping Angie to her feet. Will couldn't help smiling at his wife's statements … knowing his four year old, it wouldn't take a lot of convincing. Like many children her age, Annabelle loved 'helping,' and if it meant helping to take care of a grown-up, that was even better. Angie, however, just offered a weary smile and made no argument. The two women made their way from what was serving as Will's office, and the colonel sank into his chair, resting his head in his hands. He hadn't been joking … when he noticed the time and realized that Angie was out there, it scared the hell out of him. Not just because she was his friend, but because she was a civilian under his protection and he couldn't exactly send the 'Bots out in search of her. Will had a really bad feeling about how things would go from here on out. He hoped he was wrong, but judging from the way people reacted to the 'Bots so far, he didn't think he was.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and returned his attention to the most recent report he'd received from one of the other Pedway shelters. With the fall of Chicago, there were so many dead and even more displaced. NEST set up shelters in the Pedway … not just for the protection from the elements, but because the tunnels of the Pedway offered more stability than the ravaged buildings above them. This city had a helluva lot of healing today, and there was only so much he and NEST could do. The 'Bots … the people of Chicago weren't inclined to trust them, even after the 'Bots returned to push back the 'Cons. To them, one metal menace was no different from any other. And Will had no idea how to change their minds.

Not for the first time, he acknowledged that it was possible he couldn't change their minds. What that meant for the 'Bots on Earth in the coming weeks, and the future of NEST, Will really couldn't say. In the meantime, he had work to do … more to the point, work that involved a potential ally. And he really needed to get some sleep, if he wanted to be at the top of his game in the morning. Schmoozing was one of Will's least favorite parts of the job, but it had to be done. Especially now, especially with the 'Bots and NEST on shaky ground.

The following day, he and Bobby Epps would be meeting with a billionaire who was in Chicago to see what he could do for the refugees. It remained to be seen if this Malcolm Merlyn genuinely wanted to help, or if he was just trying to make himself look good. It could go either way, as Will knew, and it wasn't his policy to look a gift billionaire in the mouth, much less one who could help. According to his research, the man lost his wife nearly twenty years earlier. Rebecca Merlyn ran a clinic in a bad part of Starling City called the Glades … where she also died. Will read the reports of her death, and even now, he couldn't imagine how Merlyn was still sane. Then again, maybe he wasn't sane. Will encountered people who were really, really good at convincing people that they were perfectly fine, perfectly sane, perfectly normal … but were anything but. It wasn't always easy to tell.

And if Merlyn wasn't entirely sane … could Will say he would still be sane if he lost Sarah in the same way? Considering the loss of Ironhide was still so damn fresh, Will chose not to pursue that thought. Instead, he returned his attention to his paperwork. At least, he tried to. But the image of a pale, trembling Angie Curtis stumbling toward them kept pushing itself to the forefront of his mind … along with the story of who rescued her. A man, clad entirely in black, wielding a bow and arrow. He'd killed all of her attackers, and then escorted her back to the closest entrance to the Pedway, right around the time Bobby, Will and Sarah headed to the surface with a search party for their errant friend.

She was fairly certain that it was a man who rescued her, although the voice was hard to distinguish. While she encountered quite a few tall women (Angie herself wasn't much over five feet tall), most tall women weren't that broad-shouldered. Will was of two minds about this mysterious dark archer. On the one hand, this guy, whoever he was, saved an innocent woman who didn't use her best judgment but didn't deserve to die for it (and he was still working out the best way to explain to Angie how she wasn't really stealing, even though technically she was). On the other hand … on the other hand, vigilantes made Will a bit uncomfortable, and he hoped that this dark archer didn't cause trouble for NEST or their Autobot allies.

TWTWTWTWTWTW

He slowly stripped off his leathers, muscles aching from the exertion of the night, and the control required to simply kill those marauders threatening a young woman who was trying to help other people, rather than do something worse. A young woman who was somewhat older than Rebecca was when she died, but who would have met a similar fate if those bastards had their way. In a distant part of his mind, Malcolm Merlyn recognized that the men he killed tonight might have been different at one time, might have homes and families. But really? He didn't care. They chose to kill, to prey upon others, while the woman he protected chose to help. The 'they can't help it' excuse wouldn't work with him. Not now, not ever.

He'd come to Chicago when he saw the destruction on the news … he had to come. The Decepticons did a rather thorough job of trashing the city, and he needed to see it for himself, needed to see what kind of work would be necessary to restore the Glades after the Undertaking. Besides, he truly wanted to see what he could do help Chicago and her people. What he didn't expect was what he found. He went out in his leathers tonight to patrol, since the Autobots and the soldiers who helped them drive out the Decepticons couldn't be everywhere. What he found out on the patrol shook him to the core.

It was the intention of the Undertaking to wipe the slate clean and start over. That was part of it, along with punishing those who murdered Rebecca, who left her to die (he couldn't forgive them, he couldn't forgive himself and he couldn't be angry with Rebecca). He wanted payback, he wanted them to hurt the way he hurt. He wanted the Glades to be what it was when he was a child. And the Undertaking … the Undertaking was supposed to lead to that. But … what he was seeing in Chicago in the wake of the Decepticon attack was starting to unravel his certainty that the Undertaking would make things better.

It wasn't really the same. Not really. But at the same time, it was. The source was different, but the result was the same. He was seeing potential consequences for his plans, consequences that negated what he was trying to do. But so much was already invested in the Undertaking, and what did he do in its place? Malcolm rubbed at his eyes, trying to focus on what his next step should be. There was a possibility that he was looking at this wrong, after all. As he previously observed, the Decepticons were different from the Markov device. But the results were what mattered, and the results were the same.

He should have anticipated this. He should have realized that unleashing the Markov device against the Glades would result in anarchy. That was what he saw out there tonight … pure anarchy. But he also saw people helping each other. The girl with the backpack full of supplies for the refugees who took shelter in the Pedway … the girl who reminded him of Rebecca. She had none of Rebecca's grand plans and dreams, but she did have that same will to help others, even when they didn't deserve it.

Malcolm wasn't able to save his wife (hadn't tried to save her). But that girl tonight, he'd saved her. Would it make a difference? She might die another night (especially if she went out alone after dark). He thought again of Rebecca, and her living another night … another night for him to hold her, another night for her to kiss Tommy good night … yes. Even if that girl died another night, she at least had another day and night with the people who loved her most. It made a difference to someone.

His mind drifted back to the girl herself. She wasn't really a girl … had to be at least in her mid-thirties, but she was younger than he was, in years and in spirit. Life hadn't beaten all of the innocence out of her. No. No, that was the wrong thing to say. Innocence wasn't the word he was looking for. She wasn't truly innocent … her expression when he came upon them was frightened, but not surprised. No, life hadn't beaten the kindness out of her, the desire to help others. She didn't expect anything out of others … certainly didn't expect others to reciprocate. She actually seemed more surprised by his actions than by the subhumans menacing her. In truth, Malcolm himself was a bit surprised … when he escorted the girl back to the army camp.

He still wasn't sure why he did that. In the time it took him to return her to viewing distance of the soldiers, he could have been patrolling. But it was the right thing to do, he knew that. Even so, that didn't explain why she got under his skin the way she did … why he couldn't stop thinking about her. Maybe because on the way back to the soldiers' camp, she rambled, talking about the things she saw since the Decepticons attacked Chicago, the things she'd done. She kept her head, he realized as he listened to her stumble and fumble through her words, her breath halting as her feet stumbled over debris that was still being cleaned up. She'd kept her head and got herself and her co-workers to a place of relative safety.

Relative being the key word. Malcolm knew that certain parts of the Pedway collapsed, thanks to the blockade and the battle that followed. He hadn't yet met any of the Autobots, but he hoped to. If only to find out why … why they returned for an ungrateful humanity. It was something Malcolm discovered that he really wanted to know, even as his certainty that the Undertaking was the right thing to do began to diminish. Why did the Autobots return for a people that rejected them? Bowing to Sentinel Prime's demands was one of the stupidest things humanity ever did … and there was a laundry list of stupid things humanity as a whole did.

Malcolm shook his head. He was allowing himself to become distracted, something he couldn't afford, even in the 'safety' of his hotel room. His muscles ached, and he realized a shower was in order … followed by sleep. He had a meeting with NEST in the morning, the human allies to the Autobots, comprised of military personnel from several countries, particularly the US and the UK. His research told him that the current military commander for NEST was one Lieutenant Colonel William Lennox, who first came to the attention of his superiors and the Autobots during the battle of Mission City, four years earlier. Malcolm was intrigued by the young soldier, and when he felt sure that he had a full picture of the man he'd be interacting with, switched his attention to Lennox's unofficial second in command, retired Air Force Sergeant Bobby Epps. Both men were fathers … Lennox had a four year old daughter, while Epps had five children. Four daughters and one son, according to Malcolm's most recent information.

Reading about the children sired by the men that he would be meeting in the morning drew his thoughts to his son Tommy. Malcolm removed a billfold from the inside of his jacket, which carried no money … only a picture. A single picture of Rebecca and Tommy, taken only days before her death, both laughing as Rebecca held their son and Tommy's arms reached up for the photographer (Malcolm). Tommy was in his twenties now, and things were far different between the father and son. That was his fault, and he knew it. The question … or questions … were what should he do about it, and should he do anything about it, or was Tommy safer by hating him? The man whom people were already calling the Dark Archer brushed his thumb lightly over first his son's face, and then his wife's face, before carefully folding the picture back up and placing it back inside the billfold.

Shower, and then bed. He had a long day ahead of him, and while he was more than capable of going days without sleep, he preferred to take advantage of the opportunities he had to get a good night sleep. A quick check of the windows and doors assured him that the room was as secure as he could make it, and if someone tried to come through the window, he had a simple alert system set up. The hot water soothed his aching muscles, but it didn't settle his mind or ease his heart. What he saw today shook him … but after everything he'd done in the last few years, was canceling the Undertaking the right thing to do? And if it was, he needed time to think and to come up with another plan, in place of the Undertaking.

Fifteen minutes later, after toweling himself dry and performing some calisthenics, Malcolm slid between the sheets, holding the billfold containing the picture of Tommy and Rebecca against his chest. But as he drifted to sleep, it was a pair of hazel eyes reflecting fear and resignation that continued to haunt him.

TBC