Everyone reacted to the loss of their two teammates a little differently. Smokescreen took out his sorrow and frustration on some boulders, reducing them to mere piles of rubble. Arcee, Bulkhead, and Ironhide sat silently in disbelieving shock while Miko cried her eyes out. Mirage, Hound, and Prowl had gone out for a drive to clear their processors. Optimus and Ultra Magnus had retreated to their personal quarters, doing Primus only knows what.

Jazz sat on a large metal container, with his helm in his servos. The horrible images of Bumblebee become a limp rag doll, as the humans said, and Rafael's eyes losing their light as his body was torn apart were replaying in his processor. The spy had shown the others the recordings he'd gotten while he'd shuttered his optics, unable to witness the tragedy again.

He'd told Miko to not watch, but the rebellious girl had disregarded his words and peeked around the corner. This had become evident when she'd screamed at Raf's gory ending. Bulkhead had gone to comfort her while the Prime had questioned Jazz, wanting to know what the decepticons were after, exactly.

The spy had bowed his helm as he'd said that he didn't know, and he'd retreated to the metal container that served as his chair shortly after. The mech hadn't moved since.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Jazz slowly lifted his head to see Ratchet, looking concerned.

"This wasn't your fault," the medic said quietly.

"Yes it was. Ah didn' do anythin' ta help," Jazz mumbled.

"What could you have done? You were outnumbered five hundred to one!" Ratchet's voice increased a little in volume.

"So?" Jazz snapped, jumping up. "Ah coulda grabbed Raf b'fo'e 'e died! Ah coulda killed Knockout! Ah coulda-"

"Jazz! You are only one mech! You can't do everything!" Ratchet interrupted, sounding more like his usual, impatient self.

The two of them were well aware that their arguing was attracting everyone's attention, as well as Prowl's gaze, who had just driven in. But Jazz didn't care. "That's mah point, Ratch! Ah didn' do anythin'!"

The mech stalked off, his frame rigid with anger. He left Ratchet in the main room, oblivious to the medic's conflicting emotions. Ratchet made to follow Jazz, but Prowl stopped him with a light touch to the arm and saying, "Let me go talk to him."

Ratchet wearily nodded and turned back to his computer console, and Prowl shot Bulkhead, Arcee, and Ironhide a look that said "I'll handle this."

He found the saboteur in their shared quarters, due to the lack of available rooms in the hangers. Jazz was on his berth, curled up in a ball with his visor hiding his optics, but Prowl could sense that they were unfocused, and Jazz was still in a numb-shock state.

"Is everything alright?" the usually stoic mech asked softly. "I heard arguing."

"Eve'ythin' is jus' fine, Prowler. Ah only lost two friends ta-day," Jazz said bitterly.

"You don't have to use that tone with me, Jazz. I was just asking. And they were my friends, too."

Ignoring Prowl's words, Jazz said, "Don' ya know wha' it feels like? Ta look at a mech or femme an' have the oppo'tunity ta save 'em, and then jus' stand by an' watch? And then knowin' yo'r responsible fo' their death." He sounded like he was talking to himself, but Prowl frowned.

Images of sending soldiers out to the front lines on Cybertron, knowing they were likely to never come back, flashed through Prowl's processor. He could feel the sorrow that he'd suppressed all those years ago resurfacing as the guilt came back. He knew he was responsible for the deaths. He had been head of the tactical command, and in charge of the planning and dividing the soldier's tasks.

"Yes, Jazz. I do know what that feels like." Prowl turned and walked out the door. Jazz mentally slapped himself, recalling the same memories that Prowl had.

"No- Prowl! Ah'm sorry." Jazz's voice faded to silence. The Praxian turned while he was standing in the doorway and offered Jazz a tiny smile.

"It's alright, Jazz." Then he was gone.

Jazz sighed and rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

-oOo-

Bumblebee online rather quickly, getting used to the never-ending processor ache and security bypasses. Checking on Rafael's condition was more important to him than his own safety.

If his chronometer was working, Bumblebee would have checked how long they'd been in captivity. But his self repair systems were struggling to keep his command cortex functioning above seventy-five percent. He knew it was hard on his systems, but 'Bee didn't have a choice. What were the chances that Knockout would repair him? Not that he wanted that creepy 'con digging around in his internals in the first place.

Rafael began to stir then, catching the yellow mech's attention. The boy opened his eyes and rubbed at them to clear away the sleepiness. Then he stretched and stood up from the floor of his cage. He caught sight of his guardian watching him and offered a small smile.

"What do you think they're going to do to us today?" Raf asked, right as his stomach growled. The 'cons had given him a few stolen granola bars when he'd mentioned that humans needed sustenance, but that seemed like hours ago.

'Bee eyed the boy, wishing he had something for his friend to eat. "I don't know. But I hope the others will come for us soon."

A rumbling laugh filled the chamber, making Bumblebee's doorwings twitch and Rafael jump. Megatron stepped into the light, and the boy shrank down a bit. 'Bee flared his doorwings to appear more threatening. Not that Megatron seemed to care.

"Your little friends are not going to come looking for you again," he smirked, his voice rumbling a lot like Optimus' would, but lacking the kindness.

"A-again?" Rafael asked tentatively. The warlord looked over him appraising, as though sizing him up.

"Your little spy friend, Jazz, was on board yesterday. He got this footage, and now your entire team believes you two are dead." Megatron opened one hand, palm-up, and a small hologram projector activated. It played a scene of Bumblebee's life force fading and then Raf being torn in two. By the end of the short video, Raf's jaw was hanging open and he had to turn away in disgust. No one wanted to see themselves dying in such a realistic manner.

Megatron grinned at his two prisoners' expressions. "Now that you have something to think about, I have other matters that need to be attended to." Then the ex-gladiator took his leave.

Turning to his guardian, Rafael saw the look of anger written all over his faceplates. "That couldn't be real, right?" he asked in a small voice.

'Bee shook his head furiously. "No. Megatron is just bluffing. Prime would never believe something like that."

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