Cliff said nothing. He couldn't. If he'd listened to the Scout, to Bumblebee, the night before, they'd have been there sooner. If only he'd listened, then there would have been two to rescue instead of one.

Glancing at the Scout over the head of the small victim they'd saved, he saw barely controlled fury in the face of Bumblebee. It seemed directionless, but Cliffjumper had a feeling it was directed at him.

It was his fault the one called Tailgate was dead. But he couldn't find the words to say that to the Autobot they'd rescued. What might she do if only she knew?

We could have saved them. Saved them both. If only I'd listened!

Cliffjumper looked at their rescued comrade, whom he would one day know as Arcee. And he made a silent vow, both to himself and to her.

I swear by the Allspark, that I will atone for what I've done to you. I won't ever let anyone get hurt because of me again. Never again. I hope one day you can forgive me. That I can tell you the truth. It wasn't your fault, you were a victim here. I was meant to save you. You and your partner. It wasn't you who failed. It was me. I did this to you. I'm sorry.

"I should have listened to you," Cliffjumper said at last, turning to Bumblebee, "If I had, then Tailgate would still be alive."

Bumblebee winced as though stung and stared at Cliffjumper. When he'd first met Cliffjumper, Bumblebee had thought he was being paired with an arrogant Warrior who believed his rank granted him some kind of special understanding of the universe that was beyond a mere Scout.

But he'd swiftly come to understand that Cliff's apparent arrogance was justified. He was intelligent, and experienced. And he was also fearless in battle. There were few who would enter Airachnid's lair without flinching, but Cliff had intended to go underground first.

He had no thought for himself, his every concern was with those they were trying to rescue. It easily made him Bumblebee's equal, if not superior. He was someone Bumblebee could respect. The first such Autobot he'd met in a long, long time.

The admission that he had been wrong, especially when confessed to a Scout, had to be a severe blow to his Warrior's pride. And Bumblebee knew this Autobot was Warrior in more than rank.

He wished he had the words to explain that it was he who was at fault. If he hadn't spent so much time having Cliffjumper wait while he scouted ahead and dispatched enemies with extreme prejudice, they would have moved through Decepticon territory a lot faster.

It was one thing to distrust others with sensitive information, to maintain distance and avoid sentiment, but this was a Warrior who had been presented with the scenario and been the first to volunteer to be part of it. The only thing Bumblebee had to lose was his life.

He had acted to protect himself, instead of the objective up ahead. Arcee and Tailgate had paid the price for his ill-executed caution. He could have avoided those patrols, instead of stopping to wreck them. Cliffjumper was right not to trust him. He was on the edge, and now realized it was himself that he couldn't trust.

But he couldn't say any of that. His voice...

"The next time you tell me something, I won't doubt you," Cliffjumper went on, "You know this area, and stealth missions are your bag. You proved you know what you're doin'."

It had been a long night, and the shell-shocked Arcee could not travel quickly. When he had been here before, Bumblebee had scouted a number of locations for hiding freed prisoners. He had anticipated returning here, though not like this.

It had taken half the night to get there. The chosen spot was the shelled out remains of an office building, the bottom three floors still partially intact. The second floor was their chosen ground, they could see out the gaping holes in the wall that had once served as windows. There was a good view of the surrounding area and they were in a dead area of Decepticon territory.

The Decepticons would be looking for whoever had decimated their ranks in the area, but they were hunting for a rogue. That was all Airachnid had seen. Bumblebee didn't know her personally, but he had observed her quick retreat, too swift for him to shift his fire to her.

He wished he could have done that, ended the nightmare for Arcee. For there was no doubt in his mind but that the nightmare for Arcee would never be over for so long as Airachnid lived. He knew that just as surely as he knew he would never be able to rest until Megatron was ended.

It occurred to him that he'd learned Arcee's name. Normally, he would have avoided such knowledge. Attachment was a thing he could not afford in his line. He'd put himself before her for that reason. At the time he was crossing the territory, she was merely a possibility, a potential survivor who might be rescued. Bumblebee was real, alive, and had to stay that way to complete the mission.

The mission. Well he'd failed at that, and it was Arcee who suffered the consequences.

He tore his gaze from Arcee, and looked out at the burned and broken skeleton of the former city, now a ruin. Like himself. Ruined by the hand of Megatron.

He managed to gather his fragmented thoughts enough to make a series of gestures that Cliffjumper could understand. He wanted to communicate that he now trusted Cliffjumper, that he would respect the Warrior's judgment. Cliffjumper had been right when he insisted they rest.

If they hadn't, then they probably wouldn't have made it out of the lair alive. But Cliffjumper never should have had to make that choice. Bumblebee should have gotten them through faster. He couldn't convey all of that, but he could say that Cliffjumper had his trust and respect and he could try to communicate that it was his fault, not Cliff's or Arcee's. He was to blame for Tailgate.

Cliffjumper didn't seem to understand the second series of gestures. Or he chose not to. But Bumblebee couldn't bring himself to speak, to give voice to his own handicap.

What good is a Scout with no voice?

Cliffjumper took the first watch. He insisted. The Scout hadn't given indication of it, but he was tired. It didn't look like it, but scouting was hard work. You had to be very alert, aware of everything around you, ready to act at the slightest provocation, to run or to hide. It was also very stressful, because often you were wired about nothing, those few times when things went wrong made the thousand and one times nothing happened all the worse.

The Scout seemed distracted, and less coherent than he'd been before. His admittedly limited choice of communication hadn't made any sense earlier. He seemed to be indicating that he'd done something, been responsible for something, but Cliff couldn't make heads or tails of what it was.

There'd also been an emotionally charged reaction to seeing Arcee. Cliff wondered if the Scout knew her, or if she merely reminded him of someone he'd lost. Or maybe, like Cliff, he felt guilty for not having been just a little faster. Maybe that's what he'd been trying to say earlier.

In any case, the Scout needed to rest, to gather up the emotions that seemed to have suddenly overflowed and put them back in the box where they belonged, out of his way. Cliff knew you couldn't turn emotions off, but you could save them for later. Now was not the time for emotion.

Now was the time for the coldly calculating Scout who had started this mission. The one who had recognized his weakness, the desire for vengeance, and turned it to his advantage, setting the 'Cons to hunt for a nonexistent killer. They had a few days left, they had to find others like Arcee.

If there were others who could be saved. If not, then Arcee would have to be enough. Cliff glanced at her, sleeping fitfully in the opposite corner from Bumblebee, muttering in her sleep, brow furrowed. If only she knew how much he needed her to make it through.

She had to recover, had to keep fighting. Cliff wasn't sure he could live with himself if neither she nor Tailgate made it out of the lair because he hadn't listened to the Scout. He needed her to be okay, to prove that his mistake had not been completely fatal.

She needed to be an example, proof that you could survive capture and torture. She needed to be a walking, talking inspiration to the demoralized ranks of the Autobots. You could go into the dark and come back alive. You could suffer unimaginably and still survive.

An odd sound drew Cliff's attention away from Arcee, towards the corner where the Scout was. It was sort of a buzzing, whirring, and it took Cliff a second to recognize the basic speech pattern inherent to the sound. It was coming from Bumblebee. He too was muttering in his sleep, the sentences only in pieces, the words meaningless. But the sound of his voice meant everything.

Cliffjumper had heard of it before, though he'd never seen a survivor. He'd known the Scout had been captured and tortured, but he hadn't realized that Megatron himself had been involved, or that the Scout had been found after Megatron left him for dead.

A signature of the bodies of those tortured by Megatron who refused to speak was that their voice boxes were crushed before they were left to die. None had ever been found alive that Cliff knew of. They bled out before anyone found them. But Bumblebee... he was a survivor.

No wonder he wouldn't talk to me. And no wonder he's so angry. A Scout without a voice. Except... he does have a voice. Broken as he may be, he can still speak.

It was obvious that the Scout was having a nightmare. Without really thinking, Cliff went over to shake him awake. He wasn't sure why he did that, it was just an impulse he followed. A second later, he realized it was an action he would regret for the rest of his life.

The second Cliff touched him, the Scout sprang into action. A shout escaped him as he shot upright into a sitting position, catching Cliff's wrist in one hand, twisting it downward and to the side while he brought up his free hand in a smooth motion, leveling a blaster against Cliff's chest.

But it wasn't the pain of his twisted arm or the fear of being shot that froze Cliff where he was. It wasn't even the nearly black eyes of the Scout that glared at him without awareness for a moment as Bumblebee scrambled to regain his faculties. It was the one word contained within the staccato cry that had erupted from the Scout upon waking.

{Viper!}

Cliff's spark seemed to go dark for a moment, as he realized fully the implications behind the broken and scattered mutterings produced by the Scout's dream. Putting the words together, Cliff formed the picture of a Scout who was stalked for days, then attacked without warning from behind, left crippled for a roving Megatron to find and torture. Pit Viper had not only survived, but he had never left.

Pain shot through Cliff's chest as he realized what he'd done in letting Pit Viper live. This Scout had lost his voice, and what seemed to be a good portion of his sanity, because of the Viper.

Bumblebee shook himself and lowered his weapon, releasing Cliffjumper's arm and looking away abashedly. Cliff knew he had to say something, and that he could never admit that it was he who had done this to the Scout. If Bumblebee knew, he'd kill Cliff in an instant. Whether or not he deserved that in the end, Cliff knew that here and now was not the place. He knew also that such vengeance would destroy whatever was left of the Scout's mind.

It was a guilt, a secret that must be taken to the grave. Not for his own sake, confession would make him feel better. For the sake of the Scout who had already suffered for Cliff's lapse in judgment.

"So you can talk," he said, finding his own voice at last.

The Scout looked at him, but said nothing.

"All this time, you could have said something, and you didn't. Why not?" Cliff asked.

It was unclear whether Bumblebee didn't want to answer or if he was still shaking off the last remnants of his nightmare, a bad memory brought to life in dreams.

{I was... am... ashamed.}

Bumblebee's halting confession left Cliff speechless for a moment. He couldn't figure for the life of him what the Scout had to be ashamed of. He said so. Or rather, he asked.

"Ashamed? Great Cybertron! Of what?" He demanded, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing Arcee.

{Can't you hear?} the Scout returned quietly, as though that was an answer.

"I can hear," Cliff said, "Can you?"

The Scout cocked his head quizzically. Cliff sighed wearily.

"Alright, kid. Why don't you tell me what you're ashamed of, and I'll tell you what I hear."

{I'm broken, Cliffjumper. Like this city we lost, like the Cybertron that's slowly dying because of this war we're losing. And we are losing. Everyone knows it. And my voice, or what's left of it, is just another reminder of that fact. Another reason to stop trying. I met the enemy head on, and lost. Listen to me. My voice is what happens if you don't quit while you're ahead. That's what anyone who hears me will think. That we don't stand a chance. I'm broken, to be pitied. You don't think I heard what the medic said to you? You don't think I know what went through your mind? Well I don't want to be pitied, it's not an emotion we can afford on the field of battle. Hearing my voice will only lead Autobots made weary by an endless and seemingly futile war to wonder, 'what's the point?'}