She was in one piece. She had all ten fingers and toes. Her head was on her shoulders. All round her, alloyed plates partly conceal her from the bright streetlights. Overhead, digits uncurl and she saw her savior.
Bumblebee placed her down, her shoes tapping lightly on the concrete of the river's edge. On either side, the same helicopters as before closed in on their location. Bee shuffled about, placing himself between Midge, Sam, Mikaela and the enemy. He scooted closer, like a goalie blocking a puck, only the stakes were much higher than being scored on.
She heard a noise like a firecracker, short and loud. Sharp, menacing hooks wrapped up Bumblebee's wrist and caught on his parts, sturdy wire tethering him to the vehicle that shot it. As the helicopter flew, it yanked him forward. He was targeted by another shot, then even more, bringing him down to one knee. He didn't fire a single blast, allowing the militant vehicles to get closer. He hadn't hurt anyone and yet the black-clad officers came down with a powerful force to attack the poor alien.
Midge had always despised the tactics of her country, thinking them too combative, generally. She was distinctly not on board with the war in Iraq, nor did she find it acceptable for their military to storm any country to install a new leader or gain monetarily from it.
Shoot first, ask questions later. This was the way of her government. Her father told her daily that she was brainwashed, insisting that she was being misled by her emotions. Midge stopped trying to change his mind a long time ago, and she was happier for it.
A warm, insistent hand on her back urged her in the opposite direction, away from the yellow bot and the blacked-out SUVs driving up to him. She looked to find her brother guiding her, his other hand on the teenage girl to keep them close and out of harm's way. Midge knew that was all he endeavored to do, to keep them all safe, but her heart had other plans.
She broke for the Autobot. Sensing Sam's fingertips catching the edge of her shirt, she slipped out of his grasp, graceful as a dancer. Pounced on by the multitude of men in black, he couldn't give chase. The rhythmic sound of helicopter blades beat in time with her pace and she heard screams for her to get down on the ground. She stormed on.
Midge avoided the sight of identical soldiers that surrounded the bot, her head low and knees bent. They must have flooded out of the cars when she wasn't looking. Each time a helicopter dipped closer, she stilled.
A cord latched around Bumblebee's feet, tripping him up and sending him sprawling at the river's edge. She moved forward, the trek to her companion's side seeming to drag as if she was in slow motion.
He was able to get one foot under him, but only for a moment before he was brought down again. The cheerful mech was supposed to be able to get away from this. He was supposed to run and save himself. He stayed only to protect them, protect her.
She thought back to his goofy behavior and how she cherished her new friend. How he made her laugh and that adorable wink he would send her. It felt like the Sun wrapped her up in it's warmth when he was holding her with all the tentative care that a gentle giant could muster.
There was no way she'd ever stop aching for that emotion, no way she could ever let it slip through her fingers without a fight. She would not lose that divine fullness that made her feel wanted. Appreciated. Loved.
"God dammit!" she cursed under her breath. She couldn't be having a crisis of this scale. Figuring out that she was attracted to robots in the midst of a battle for which she was woefully underprepared hadn't been on her 2007 bingo card, that was certain.
Frigid blasts of white smoke hit her in the face, flooding the basin they stood in. It was concentrated on the Cybertronian and it dissipated instantly, but was almost impossible to see through. It smelled slightly sweet, like nitrous oxide. She thought it ironic that something that almost killed her would now be used against her partner. She prayed there would be no lasting damage, waving her hands through the mist, feeling for her friend.
Flesh touched ore.
She palmed the cool metal, her warm hands leaving marks of condensation. They were spraying him with nitrous to cool him down to the point of stasis. It seemed to have almost worked, by the drained look in his usually playful optics. He seemed to have less fight in him with every passing second.
"Bumblebee..." she trailed off, not sure what she had planned on saying. She couldn't nail down a single thought, in fact, now that she was witnessing the cruel treatment of the 'bot in front of her. What could she say that would ever make any of this okay? She didn't think such a thing existed. Her palm migrated to hold his cheek. Their locked gazes were heated despite the cold and it felt like he knew exactly what she wanted to say, even though she couldn't find the words.
Those men were coming, and soon they'd be upon her. Wearing all black, they stood out while they snuck through the milky white smoke from their weapons.
Skin stuck slightly to his quickly cooling faceplate when she wrenched herself away, facing the soldiers. Bursting out of the white fog that concealed their momentary embrace, she wrapped up the legs of one of the men aiming a freezing mist at her bot. He was tripped over her shoulder, a loud crack resonating from his helmet hitting concrete.
She tackled another around the neck, but he held back her vicious elbow from his clamping around his trachea. She had knocked him over with her tackle, but had allowed his hand to get in the way and block her. He bared down on her and she could do nothing. Her past had made her a scrappy fighter, but she was easily outclasses in both muscle and technique by the bigger person.
"Stop attacking him!" she urged, rolling the both of them over so he was face down. She tried to use her leverage, pressing on his head with her upper body, but the man broke free and threw her on her back. "He didn't do anything to you!" she screamed, making a desperate swing.
He silently caught her retaliating arm, flipping her around while he cuffed her hands behind her back. Her chin scraped the ground, leaving a bloody smear behind. She was sure to have a couple bruises after a night like this, so what's a few more? She wriggled and squirmed, unable to break his hold.
Like a lobster with its claws banded, she had the fight taken out of her.
Staring ahead, she beheld the motionless robot, concerned blues locked on his form as she prayed for him to be okay please be okay please I need you to be okay.
As she prayed, someone snatched her off the ground, letting her legs scrape against cement while he held her up. Getting her feet below her, she's grateful her converse are still firmly tied. She was marched up to face the leader of the group of government dogs, the big dog himself: Simmons.
"We meet again." He sticks his nose in the air, haughtily looking down at her. "Ready to beg?"
"If you think anything you can do to me will make me-" Her brain cut in with a helpful image of Bumblebee, writhing in pain while the ropes held him flat and the nitrous oxide chilled his entire being. The haunting look in his dull optic spheres, not a trace of life dancing through them. The bitter, frigid cold of his plates that were normally heated with life and energy. She could still feel the chill in her bones.
If she wanted him to be unharmed, there were going to be compromises she would have to make. She swallowed her pride, speaking lowly. "What exactly would I be begging for?"
The agent chuckled, softly shaking his head. A smug smirk was plastered on his face, hands behind his back, still clad in the white undershirt Mikaela had stripped him down to. All over him remained the evidence of his and Bumblebee's pissing contest, his black slacks covered with slick liquid. "That's not how it works. You beg, and I tell you what your performance earns you."
She took a long, steadying breath. Sluggishly, she lowered herself to her knees. Rage threatening to bubble up from inside, she stuffed it down, making her voice sound thick. Shuffling forward on her knees, she put on her best doe eyes and begged, praying it would change his mind. "Please. Don't hurt him. You can can do whatever you want to me."
He spent a moment in silence, soaking in the picture of defeat she surely made. Her knees, still bare against wet ground, stung with pinpricks where sharp rocks pressed into her skin. She bowed her head, ready to prostrate herself further if that was what it took, until his shadow fell back.
"Should've begged harder," his gruff tone spat. She gaped at him in shock while he walked away, his pointer finger in the air, signaling for some kind of retreat. "I want that thing frozen and ready for transport," he intoned loudly, almost drowned out by the sounds of the helicopter.
"Wait! Please, I'll- I'll do anything!" Strong arms manhandled her again, dragging her up and pushing her this way and that. She was forced into one of the boxy, Government Issue cars and she was now in the same spot that she'd started out. "I'll kiss your shoe, clean your toilets, anything!"
Babbling on would only distract the older man for so long. Nothing she spewed seemed to catch his attention, making her think his offer was just a pretense. He put bait on the hook for someone he hoped would switch sides, betraying her friends for some fickle thing, she was sure.
Her volume came back down, hoping to garner some sympathy to her plight. "Let me ride with him at least. I can-" The door slammed, sealing her alone in the car. silencing her plea.
Tears tried to spring from her eyes but she stubbornly endured them. Her forehead falling to the chilly surface of the window, she peered through the thick glass at her best friend. The yellow scout was being dragged away to who knew where, to be dissected and analyzed and possibly destroyed. It was more than her exhausted mind could keep up with. A burgeoning guilt swirled deep in her stomach, writhing like a worm.
She teased her brother often, usually about screwing things up, but it was a facade. She only ever treated him that way because the opposite was true. She was the screw-up, the one that fucked things up beyond recognition. She'd ruined personal property, relationships, and more.
This was one screw up she didn't know how to unscrew.