I interpret Lennox in The Last Knight as more of a mole with the TRF than traitor (if we even consider TLK canon). Written by request of 17 and , in TF2 ROTF Galloway calls Lennox "Major" so that is what I'm going with as his rank for this one.
In the wake of the Egypt incident, heads rolled, even as NEST's status was reinstated. Major William Lennox tried to stay out of it. Providing only the most limited answers in his reports and interviews. Miraculously, he escaped court-marshal. And that was more than enough for Lennox. Director Galloway was ultimately relieved of duty after word of his decidedly undiplomatic actions was sent back to the Joint Chiefs. To his relief, his command seemed to be returning to what passed for normal. As normal as one could call an interplanetary alliance with sentient machines.
He could not pretend to understand what exactly had transpired at the foot of the pyramids. Frankly, even the higher-ups were having trouble untangling that mess with Cairo. Optimus's revival was a wondrous and welcome event. Insubordination had never felt sweeter. If there was ever a reason to defy a direct order, it was to save the one being who was immune to the Fallen's mystical powers. The one being who had stood a chance of defeating the ancient monster. Lennox would have gladly gone to Leavenworth for the rest of his life if it had meant the world's salvation. And, if that was conduct unbecoming an officer, then he shuddered to think whatdid 'become' one. How or why Optimus had returned from the dead was a mystery for mechanics, philosophers, and theologians to sort out, not a simple soldier. He had merely done as he was told and taken the body where it needed to be. Though he barely understood what it meant, Optimus was a Prime, and, as Ratchet had made clear to him, only one Prime could answer the power of another.
Even after two years of fighting at the Autobots' side, his mind still spun to attempt to comprehend the scale of the conflict into which humanity had been thrust. Next to the mechanical giants, he felt so incredibly small. From what he gathered from Ironhide, the machine Optimus had destroyed would have harvested enough energy from the sun to revive the Autobot's planet, to revive their entire race! The thought that the Autobots had chosen humanity over the resurrection of their home world boggled his mind. If faced with the same options, even as principled a man as he was, the Major could honestly say that he was not so sure which he would have chosen. It was like walking among the Greek gods. As Epps was fond of saying, "If God made us in His image, who made Optimus Prime?" It was a fair, if sacrilegious, question. The 'transformers,' as they had been nicknamed, were unfathomably powerful, old and ancient, yet as temperamental as any human. But, even now, he still shrunk under the intensity of their towering gazes. Though he was glad to play an auxiliary role in hunting Decepticons, at times, Lennox wondered what good human soldiers were to beings so powerful.
Lennox had barely spoken to Optimus since their return, but he could not help but smile softly whenever he saw him moving through Diego Garcia's base. It was just...good to see him. He was beaten and battered, clearly worse for wear. But alive. His optics blue and burning. No longer cruelly dull. And that was what mattered. Without him, all of them would have died. Lennox, his men, Sarah, Annabelle, and the whole goddamn world. There were no words of thanks adequate to the magnitude of what Optimus and all the rest of the Autobots had done for the human race. It was a poignant reminder of the power possessed by his alien counterparts, the power they willingly ceded in favor of peaceful coexistence, rather than ruthless conquest. All Lennox could do was silently resolve to believe in the Aubots from now until the end of his natural life.
He never said anything, of course, there was nothing to say. But the silent vow rang in his mind as Lennox's superiors interrogated him over and over, demanding justification for his actions. For 'kidnapping' Galloway, and 'stealing' the Prime's lifeless shell. Before, the Major had hesitated to risk his career by standing up to Galloway. But now, no such fear remained. The Autobots, Ironhide and Optimus in particular, had time and time again proven themselves trustworthy, even over his own chain of command, even over his own species. The thought may have been traitorous, but he found that he didn't care.
Lennox returned to his day-to-day obligations and kept his head down as the remaining winds blew over. Sadly but justifiably, the Autobots had grown more distrustful of the good ol' US of A, especially in light of the gross insensitivity they'd shown to the Autobots in the aftermath of Prime's death.
Since returning from Egypt, they'd become even more defensive of their hangar space. Before the events of the pyramids, existing treaties between the species forbade human access to the quarters the Autobots had constructed for themselves on the island base. Such areas were to be treated as "embassies," and sovereign soil, for all intents and purposes. Lennox could easily imagine any number of reasons for the arrangement, though he, himself, had not been a party to negotiations. Humans had previously been invited into those areas by request of the Autobots themselves, but, since their return, the mechs had been colder, and less friendly. Not a human soul had been allowed to enter.
Therefore, it came as a shock when, at 21:00 hours, he received a ping from the Autobot hangar requesting his immediate presence.
He stared at the message for a moment, before sending an affirmative reply. Lennox did not bother to question it. If they asked him to strip naked and dance a Highland jig, he'd do it if it meant rebuilding their trust in the human military.
And so, he followed the familiar path to their hangar. To his surprise, it was Ratchet that greeted him, the Autobot medic's normally calm demeanor seemingly laced with a tense and worried undercurrent.
"Good evening, Major." The Autobot said curtly, as Lennox offered a greeting of his own. "Thank you for coming. Please, follow me to the med bay."
Lennox's eyes wandered over strange equipment and unidentifiable machinery as he trailed after the green-yellow mech. Catwalks ran the length of the facility, as it was, of course, built from a human-made prefabricated building. These catwalks were dusty and cob-web covered, filthy from disuse and strangely out of place next to the striding Autobot medic.
"Major Lennox," Ratchet said, abruptly, turning to regard him as they entered a hallway, "I ask that you keep this visit in the strictest of confidences, from both human and Autobot."
"Sir, yes, sir." Lennox replied reflexively.
He had, of course, been to the hangar before, but he had never had cause to visit Ratchet's medical bay. A shiver passed over his spine as he realized that the strange equipment surrounding them was disassembled parts from fallen Autobots. Some he had known, others, he had not. Distantly, he recognized patterns on the metal, here and there, and slowly came to the dawning recognition that, to the Autobots, this was a horror scene of dismembered body parts, parts that they had very likely been forced to scavenge for their own survival. Their dead bodies turned into morbid hangar queens.
Lennox forced aside such thoughts as they entered an inner chamber and he recognized a horribly scratched and dented blue and red shape stretched out on a massive table.
It was an OR. Lennox recognized dimly.
Scarred and twisted pieces of red and blue were laid out on a platform beside the great table. His stomach churned as he realized these were pieces of Optimus's body. The giant mech shot him a look that the Major could not quite place, but that looked distinctly...embarrassed.
"Optimus asks that you excuse him for not speaking," Ratchet interjected. "I've had to disconnect his vocal processor to repair the damage dealt by Megatron."
"No worries," Lennox said softly, though he didn't fully understand, even as he stared up in awe at Optimus's stripped and tattered frame.
"This is where you come in," Ratchet continued, "to fuse the crack in the anterior wall of his spark-chamber, I need to go in through Optimus's shoulder struts and then his vertebral column, his 'spine,' as you humans might call it. He will need to be awake so that I can avoid inadvertently crippling him, but as he will be facing away from me and he cannot presently speak, I need you to stand by his head so that you can alert me if he starts to lose feeling."
Lennox struggled to understand the request. "Wait you...you want me to act like some kind of surgical spotter?"
"That would be an apt description, Major."
He turned to meet Optimus's bright blue gaze. His brow ridges lifted, almost questioningly.
"Why me? Why not one of the Autobots?" Lennox asked, confused.
Ratchet waved a hand, as if dismissing the question. "They are too big to fit in my operating theater." He said simply.
Lennox thought about it for a moment. It was an unprecedented request, but if it meant buying goodwill with the Autobots and taking steps toward making amends on behalf of his government, then it was certainly worth doing.
"Where do you want me?"
Without a word, Ratchet gestured up to the catwalk over Optimus's left shoulder. It swung so close to the table that it practically touched the great metal slab. Lennox clambered up the dust-laden corrugated stainless steel stairway until he was almost at eye level with the massive transformer.
Ratchet then began to speak to Optimus in Cybertronian, a whistle-click language, the nuances of which were beyond Lennox's understanding. After a moment, Optimus rolled over onto his side, so that he was eye level with the human soldier. Ratchet reached over and used one of the large metal loops dangling on the table's edge to strap down Optimus's wrists, as the fingers of one colossal hand curled over the edge of the table right beside the human soldier.
Ratchet was restraining him. Tying him down to operate on him.
"Major, I've instructed Optimus to cycle his optics three times if he starts to lose feeling. Is that clear?"
"Roger that." Lennox responded, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. Somehow, acting as an Autobot surgical tech felt as daunting as a firefight. And at least the latter he'd been trained to handle...
Lennox stared up into Optimus's blue optics, meeting the mute burning bright gaze. The Prime didn't even flinch as Ratchet's surgical saw started up with a deafening whine.
"Shout if he signals you," Ratchet instructed, and then he touched the spinning blade to Prime's shoulder.
Optimus tensed as sparks flew over his back, showering the room in tiny dancing rays of golden light. Lennox winced as the Prime's jaw clenched, his denta grinding. The spinning blade sank deeper and deeper into the transformer's back. Slow, controlled exhalations came from deep within the Prime's chest as he "breathed" through the pain while Lennox stood by uselessly, watching, wondering if Optimus would signal for them to stop. But Optimus didn't. Soon enough, the saw's whine ceased, and Lennox saw his shoulder plates being pealed open, fresh glowing 'blood' dripping down the metal skin. "Energon," they'd called it.
It was then that Ratchet produced what Lennox was reasonably sure was some kind of scalpel.
All seemed as before, until the moment Ratchet touched the blade to the opening he'd made in Prime's body.
And then, all hell broke loose.
Optimus's formerly calm, if wincing, eyes, blew wide and he arched his neck back, fingers clenching around the table's edge. Suddenly, he was fighting the cuffs about his wrists, the room itself rattling as he tore at the restraints, and Lennox leaped back for fear of being struck.
"Stop!" Lennox bellowed, even though Ratchet had already withdrawn the instrument.
It shook the Major to realize that, for the first time since he'd first seen the hulking Autobot in Mission City, Optimus Prime was afraid. Afraid and desperate, seemingly without explanation. Lennox had never imagined that the taciturn, unflinching mech could look so helpless. But why? Why this? Why now? Surely, the Autobot had been repaired before?
Ratchet just looked tired. So, unfathomably, tired. "Frag it all! You must hold still, Prime!" Ratchet snapped. He had switched to English, likely for Lennox's benefit.
"Whoa there, doc!" Lennox barked, the Major coming out of him as his own emotions flared. "There's no need for that."
Sawbones were always annoyed their subjects didn't happily submit to being butchered. In combat, it was one thing, but off the battlefield, the Major had no patience for it.
Fortunately for Lennox, the Autobot medic opted to ignore his outburst. This surgery, repair work, whatever it was, seemed to have been an ongoing battle, and Lennox had a feeling there was far more to this story than Ratchet had deigned to tell him.
"Optimus..." Lennox asked cautiously as the titan finally stilled against the vast table. "Are you with us...?"
The Prime blinked, his optics returning to normal as he stared at Lennox and vented heavily, his cracked door-paneled chest heaving. After a moment, the colossus pressed shut his optics, and then nodded, a look of exhaustion crossing his features.
"I am not slagging, Megatron," Lennox heard Ratchet mutter. "Unless you want to let that pile of scrap to finish what he started, you have to let me repair you!"
It was then that the blast marks on the Prime's chest caught the Major's eye. Slowly, a realization dawned over the human soldier. The forest battle. Megatron's blade. Optimus had been impaled, and then the kill shot had gone through—
His back. Lennox's mind supplied.
It seemed the Autobots weren't so different from human soldiers after all. To Lennox, the sound of bees buzzing by his ear was the sound of bullets whizzing past his head. To Optimus, any sharp implement touching his shoulder must have been the sting of the blade that had killed him; the one that he hadn't felt in time.
Soon enough, Optimus sagged against the table, having seemingly regained control of himself, even as he shot an indecipherable look to Ratchet over his shoulder.
With a sigh, Ratchet turned and once more picked up a scalpel.
"I am going to try again, but I swear, Optimus..." The medic trailed off as Lennox repositioned himself, eyeing the Prime's face. A shadow of anger passed over Optimus's features, anger that turned into weariness.
Standing so close to the distressed mech was a risk, but it was the least Lennox could do. The Autobots were practically immortal and yet, for some absurd reason, Prime counted the lives of humans equal to his own. Optimus would not have needed these repairs if not for his efforts to protect Sam. And Lennox doubted anyone had ever thanked him for that. Truly, thanks were insufficient. Especially considering what the government had done in return.
Galloway had all but desecrated Optimus's lifeless body and threatened the Autobots as they grieved over his mortal remains. It was unthinkable and unfathomable that the Prime would fight for such an ungrateful species. Yet fight, he did, and, save them, he had. Even after all they'd done.
As Ratchet's scalpel drew closer and closer to the Prime's body, the Autobot's fingers curled and clenched in anticipation around the edge of the table, leaving dents in the groaning metal.
"I've got you." Lennox promised, looking up into the burning blue. "And," the Major added wryly, "if he makes a wrong move, I'll light his ass up with my sidearm."
He heard Ratchet make a short noise of amusement, and, it could have been his imagination, but he swore Optimus's lips quirked into a ghost of smirk. It seemed trash-talking was another trait shared among soldiers of all species.
Even so, as the scalpel touched Optimus's energon-stained inner wiring, the shadow of humor vanished and Prime stiffened. Fear danced over the mech's face, warring with the Prime's composure as he struggled to maintain his legendary stoicism.
Though Optimus managed not to flinch, Lennox tensed as Prime's battle-mask suddenly slid into place. It was an unconscious protective mechanism. Prime was beginning to relive the forest. To relive his dying moments. Lennox had to get the mech's attention before he sank too far into the memory a second time….
"Optimus..." Lennox called, stepping closer, even as every instinct he had told him to take cover. "...Optimus, eyes on me," the Major dared to command. To his relief, the optics narrowed and then focused on his much smaller frame.
"...you're safe, Optimus," Lennox promised, drawing closer to the Autobot's clenched fist. "You're in Ratchet's med-bay." Lennox could hear metal tearing, and he cringed to think of what it must have felt like.
Prime's optics shot to stare out of the corner of their sockets, trying to see the offending scalpel.
"Optimus, don't look at that." Lennox's tone had a good deal more authority than he felt. Lennox crouched down as the Prime redirected his gaze, his blue optics burning the Major as the Prime ground his denta, his giant fist tightening around the edge of the table, warping the metal beneath. It looked like absolute agony.
After a moment, Lennox reached out under the railing of the catwalk and placed a cautious open palm on the warm panel on the back of Prime's hand. The blue optics shifted and widened slightly, their gaze resting on the Major's calloused hand.
Lennox felt so small, so insignificant, next to the giant. And yet, he could have sworn the Prime relaxed marginally, his exhalations evening out. After several breaths, the battle-mask retracted, revealing the pained grimace on the Prime's face.
From there, Optimus took the operation tolerably well, though, from time to time, he tensed, and his optics clicked, wincing as Ratchet did what seemed to be welding repair that lit the med-bay in strange colors. All the while, Lennox knelt, his legs going numb, quaking with strain as he kept his palm pressed firmly to Optimus's gauntlet, speaking to him with absurd reassurances that he'd used before for wounded enlisted men.
"Hang in there, Optimus…" He encouraged. "Stay with me…you're gonna get through this…"
Lennox would have cringed at himself for taking such a tone with the ancient titan, except for the unspoken frightened need shining in the blazing optics. He'd seen that look before, countless times in the eyes of wounded men, the need to be told they were going to be okay.
So Lennox did the only thing he could do: he told Prime it was going to okay, over and over again, in six different configurations. After all, who else was left to do it? Prime was a good soul. The best of them. A soldier who had been at war longer than the human race had existed. He didn't deserve to suffer alone like this, even if Lennox understood why.
Optimus was the Autobots' commanding officer, he was distanced from his soldiers. Closed off. And alone. While Lennox confided in fellow officers, and looked to generals for guidance, who could Optimus look to?
All Lennox could do was suffer in sympathy beside him.
Soon enough, it seemed that Ratchet finished, withdrawing his tools and sealing Prime's shoulder. From there, Optimus was sent into forced stasis, "to rest and to heal," Rachet said.
As the Autobot medic escorted Lennox and his quivering legs from the building, the pair remained largely silent until they were standing on the threshold to leave. It was only then that Ratchet cleared his vocal processor.
"Thank you, Major, for your assistance tonight."
"Cut the bullshit, Ratchet," Lennox said amiably, "did you really ask me to be there as a spotter?"
The Autobot let out a sound that might have been a chuckle.
"Your selection was Optimus's request. Not mine. And, whether or not you believe me, you did assist me this evening...with the added benefit of helping Optimus keep his head. I am in your debt. We are in your debt."
Lennox shot the Autobot a smile and a salute. "Anytime, friend." And with that, the Major turned and walked away.
That night, Lennox had borne intimate witness to the tenuousness of existence, even for the god-like mechanical beings. Lennox had not seen Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots, in that med-bay. Instead, he had met the soul beneath the blue flame paint and towering stature. Frightened and in pain. A painful reminder of the fragility of life, all life, including the lives of the Autobots.
Later, when he texted his wife to tell her he loved her, he added a singularly cryptic comment, a philosophical mood overtaking him:
"I saw a god bleed tonight, Sarah. And when I get home, I'm hugging you and Annabelle extra tight. Goodnight, baby, I love you."
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Over all, this piece departs from my usual fare in that it focuses on the concept of significance/meaning. YouTuber RoadRustle did 'a video about optimus prime' in which he said,"When Optimus stares into the abyss, the abyss is too blinded by his light to stare back." I've always loved that quote. That's the kind of thing I think that Lennox is seeing in Prime during this scene.