Speak!

"Is he awake yet?"

"No, not yet, Smokescreen. I'm sorry."

"He's not . . . ?"

"No, he's not dead. He'll be fine, with rest and recovery."

"It's my fault, if I hadn't gotten caught . . ."

"It's no one's fault but Megatron's, kid. He wanted to play dirty, the only problem is, he forgot how tough our head honcho could be."

"Are you . . . tired, Wheeljack? I . . . I could watch him for a bit."

"Nah, it's my shift. I got him."

Voices, talking back and forth. I recognized Smokescreen's, and wondered where we had found him, yet I couldn't open my optics. The lids were heavy, as if someone had placed something over them to prevent them from opening. The rest of my body felt this way, I felt like someone had placed something heavy on every part of it to prevent it from moving at all. At first I was frustrated, wondering why I couldn't be free to move if I desired, yet my time being conscious was coming to an end again, those few precious minutes I'd spent semi-awake being taken away by the suffocating dark once again.

When I was submerged in this darkness, I felt like it was natural, that I was supposed to be there. I wondered where all the pain had gone; it had only been there a moment before, and for a moment faces flooded over my vision, bits and pieces of what had happened in Megatron's office. But the images were blurry; the edges faded out like they had been during my time in Perception after the drink. It made me wonder if whatever had made me feel that way would be like that for the remainder of my days as a human. But soon the images faded, no longer playing across my vision over and over, instead being replaced with the dark, though I could feel myself again, and I no longer felt heavy.

My optics slowly opened, almost painfully, but it wasn't really what caused me to want to open them. Something was in my nose, and down my throat. I felt annoyed by it, the sensation of having something running through my insides was uncomfortable, and I moved my head, trying to see if it would go away while looking around the room. There were a number of white walls, and the sheets and thin blanket that were draped over the lower half of my body matched. It was cold, there were lines of goose bumps on my flesh, and there was a shiver running down my spine. Yet it wasn't so much as the cold temperature of the room that was causing these chills, but the clear liquid that was flowing from a clear tube, to a needle that was poked into my skin, and into my arm. Slowly my fingers closed; I was trying to find out what happened if I should, yet it didn't affect the flow of cold running from the hanging bag's line. However, it did attract other attention.

"Optimus?"

My optics looked up from my hand, slowly, as if they could not move any faster, even now when they were opened. They focused on the figure that was sitting on the chair, and as I did, he straightened, his body becoming rigid with surprise. He was young, younger than Bumblebee looked. His hair was silvery-blue, and his eyes matched everyone else's, holding the same hue as my own. He was lithe, and his muscles bunched as his mouth dropped open, stammering over words.

"D-don't fall asleep! I'll b-be right back!"

He leapt up, the chair almost falling over, teetering at the wake of his sudden movement as he raced toward the door. The light that came through made me squint; it wasn't like the dim lights that came from lamps on either side of the bed. I turned my head again, away from the door, hearing the faint echoes of his voice coming from the door until it clicked shut. My optics were looking at a window, now, the shades pulled back to look at a starry sky, but if I looked lower the scene was marred by buildings that spired upward in a struggle to touch it, however seemed to still fail, the sky staying out of its reach. Immediately I wondered where I was. There were no windows at home, at base; I shouldn't have been able to see the sky. I stared blankly out the window, my mind seeming incapable yet of making any sense of anything, not even a clear thought. It seemed that like my movements, it, too, was also sluggish. There was something making noise in the background, other than the now barely-audible voice that was coming from somewhere down the hallway. It sounded like a dull blip, repeating over and over, in the form of a steady, slow beat. I looked around for it, my optics searching for the source, and they came to rest on a rectangular television, located in the corner. I rested my head there, looking at it without really watching it. It hadn't given me any clues as to where I might be, and I had yet to understand the concept of the sport that was going on. And then there was the sound of an opening door, quick footsteps.

I looked away from the television, to the open door, where a group of men now stood. I stared at them for a moment, trying to make sense of their faces. There wasn't a single one of them that didn't look exhausted, there were dark circles under their eyes, yet all of them looked relieved, yet none of them seemed to be able to know what to say. I went to open my mouth to say something, but instead found I couldn't, the thing that was down my throat making it impossible to make more than a short grunt. I reached up and placed my fingers on it, finding part of it was in the corner of my mouth. My fingers had wrapped around the object when suddenly someone else's clasped around my wrist. My optics turned toward him, and Ratchet said, "You don't want to do that . . . not yet."

I let go and reached up and touched the thing that was invading my nose, and he nodded. "Yeah, you'll need that too. It's allowing you to breathe."

My hand slowly went back to where it had been laying. There were so many questions running through my mind, and I had no way of expressing them.

"It is good to see you're awake, though. We've been waiting for quite some time."

Lennox moved forward, coming to the other side of the bed, his eyes looking into mine. "We'd like it if you could find a way to relate to us. Can you blink? We'll ask 'yes' or 'no' questions. One blink is yes, two blinks is no. Can you do it?"

I hesitated, then blinked once, sluggish.

"Do you know where you are?"

I blinked twice.

"You're in a hospital, recovering from a stab wound. Do you remember anything?"

My left hand moved, reaching down to my side, a hand resting over where the hilt of Megatron's knife had been, though all it did was make me wince as my hand ran over the blankets, and the carefully-placed bandage that was underneath. I focused back on Lennox, and blinked once. Yes, there were a lot of things that I remembered. I remembered everything, up until I lost consciousness. Lennox leaned away, leaving me to be looking at nothing but the ceiling. Why was I so exhausted? I knew recovery was different between a Cybertronian and a human, yet the fatigue I felt was almost overpowering.

"While he's awake, we better get the doctor in here and have him check him out, before he fades out again."

I looked after them as Ratchet and Lennox left, but not without Ratchet saying something too low for me to hear. Whatever he said, it made all of the Autobots shift their weight and look at me nervously, and then one by one they left. I wasn't by myself for long, though. Ratchet and Lennox returned with a man I had never seen before, with dark hair and equally dark eyes. He wore a long white coat, and a mint green outfit underneath. Gloves covered his hands, and material that seemed to be like the gloves covered his feet. This man's face was cheerful, light, and in some way reassuring. Yet I still didn't feel comfortable with him here. Did he know of us? Was he an agent, like the others that had been, working for Megatron? The blip that was in the background steadily increased as he approached, and I felt every muscle in my body clench as he came to the side of the bed, his hands running over machinery that was stationed off to the side. Ratchet walked forward as the blips got faster.

"It's okay, Optimus. He's here to help you. We've checked him out; he's been with N.E.S.T. since it was formed."

"I'm Dr. Cable, and I'm going to need you to relax for me. I know it's asking for a lot after what's just happened, but I need to know a few things and I'll need your focus." the man said, leaning over me for a moment. He placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze as if he were trying to reassure me. "I'll take it Major Lennox has told you about the blinking system?"

I waited for a moment, expecting him to continue, as the blip going off in the background began to slow down. When he didn't, and instead continued to look at me expectantly, I blinked once. Dr. Cable nodded, and then reached out and gestured to the tube that was in the corner of my mouth and going down my throat. "This was only temporary. Would you like it out?" In response to this question, I blinked once again. Dr. Cable looked to Ratchet and Lennox. "I'll need you to hold him down." In response to the doctor's orders, Lennox and Ratchet moved forward, each putting pressure onto either of my shoulders, and then the doctor took ahold of the tube, hesitating as he made sure that both of them were ready for what was about to happen next, and then he began to pull the tube out.

The extraction was not pleasant. Once I was free of it, I began to cough in sputtering episodes, the hand that didn't have the needle in it reaching up to clutch my throat. A shudder ran through my body; I felt as though that had been more of a bother than I needed at the moment. Ratchet looked at me worriedly, and then he looked at Dr. Cable as he disposed of the tube. "He's really ready for that to be out? His face . . . it's still so pale."

"He's ready. The feeding tube was only there while he was unconscious. He'll be able to eat himself now." Dr. Cable turned to me, his eyes admirable. "He's strong, and he'll make it through. He's already proven that. By how much blood Optimus lost, and how unprotected your immune systems are, he should have died in the helicopter." The man removed the gloves on his hands, walked over to the sink and washed them, before putting a new pair of gloves on and walking over to the machines again. "So far the rest of his vitals look good. If you feel like you want to talk, Optimus, if you have questions, go ahead and ask when you're ready. I'm going to take these samples and run a few more tests. A nurse will be around in about a half an hour to change that bandage."

". . . Thank you . . . Doctor . . ." I said, speaking at last, my voice coming out cracked, as though it hadn't been used in a long time. I leaned back into my first position, finding that leaning the way I had hurt my side. I placed my hand over the wound, wincing as the pain panged, looking over at Ratchet. "Smokescreen . . . was that the boy I saw . . . ? . . . Was that Smokescreen?"

"Yeah. We found him after you were picked up. Perception was holding him hostage after all. But he's fine now. He sat in here more than the rest of us waiting for you to wake up."

"How long . . . was I . . . ?"

"A week."

"Is everyone . . . ?"

"Everyone's fine. Just worried about you. How do you feel? Is the pain getting to you?"

"I am fine." I said. "This . . . was all . . . Megatron's . . . doing."

"Megatron?" Lennox and Ratchet said in unison. I nodded, my voice urgent as I continued. "Barker . . . Ramsey . . . Curdey . . . the younger one, Tully . . . they were all working for him . . . they set the trap . . . the city wasn't . . . a city . . . it was a Machine . . . it changed . . . it Changed them first . . ."

"Megatron and his Decepticons are human, too?"

"Yes."

"And the Machine?"

"He said . . . something about . . . something about it only being able to . . . be used every two years . . ." I said.

"Megatron was monologueing. He gave you everything." Lennox said in surprised tones. Ratchet turned to him, his voice dark. "And I suppose it could have had nothing to do with the fact that he planned on killing Optimus?"

"I was just saying that I found it surprising. Even then . . ."

"Even then what? You should have talked to him, made him take one of us with him. You should have warned him about the differences between your kind and ours!"

"How is it my fault all of the sudden? I respected Optimus's decision to go alone. And what would they have done to Smokescreen if we'd disobeyed Perception's wishes? . . . Is this what's been up your ass all this time? You think it's my fault Megatron attacked him?"

"Optimus was drugged! You were on the com link with him, why didn't you know what was going on? You could have helped prevent it."

"I could hear but I couldn't see! What would you have had me do, anyway? I wasn't anywhere near that building!"

Their voices were rising, and it was hard to make myself heard. I didn't like how they were talking, the way they spoke it was like they had forgotten I was there, and were arguing over an issue that had been hidden in the time that I was unconscious, only to be suddenly provoked by an unknown trigger. I could feel the anger building in the air as their voices got louder, more agitated with every little line that passed between them. I tried to shift my weight, to sit up, to get their attention off of one another. It was misdirected frustration; that they shouldn't have needed to be taking out on one another. The fault of my injury was not either of theirs. Yet moving alone brought that pain back, and it slowed my progression, to where I could only move a little when I should have been moving more.

"Stop it!"

A new voice rang out, causing Ratchet and Lennox to turn, surprised, at the now-open door. Standing in the light was Bumblebee, who was glowering at the two of them, his fists clenched. I looked at him as well, taken aback. I hadn't heard that voice for a very long time. The scout opened his mouth, and the voice came through again, the angered tones rising.

"Can't you see what you're doing to him? What's wrong with you?"

"Bumblebee . . . !" Ratchet exclaimed, his eyes wide. "You're . . . you're . . ."

"Talking. I know. I've known for a few days now. I just . . . wanted to save it until Optimus got better. And then . . . you guys . . . yelling so loud all of us can hear it down the hall . . ." Silence fell over the three of them for a moment, and I immediately took advantage of that silence, my voice as stern as I could possibly make it.

"Ratchet, the fault of my injury falls into my own hands. It is not your failure, but mine. We have now been shown that we're far more vulnerable than we ever were before while we were in our Cybertronian forms. While a lot of misfortune came from the encounter at Perception . . ." I paused to place a hand on my side, absentmindedly trying to figure out a way to cease the pain I was feeling, while hiding it effectively from my features and voice. ". . . There are a lot of things we did learn. We will find out a way to take advantage of all of the knowledge we have discovered, and we will figure out a way to use the Machine to our advantage, to see if this process can be reversed. When I have recovered, we will further confer this matter."

I turned to Bumblebee, who had walked between Lennox and Ratchet, coming to stand at the side of the bed. "It is good to hear your voice again."

"Yeah. I like having it back, too. Just kinda wish I could have shown it off like I wanted to."

Ratchet turned toward the door, his tones now revealing his exhaustion. "I think I am going to get some sleep, now that I'm for sure you're going to be okay."

"And I'll go tell everyone else they can relax." Lennox said, and I watched as they left the room, each going different directions.

"Ratchet's been kind of on edge, lately." Bumblebee said, answering an unspoken question that had been on my mind. "I think it's some kind of side effect of the Change. His temper's really short. And Wheeljack likes to press all of the buttons . . . I guess he's just frustrated, that's all."

"We will just have to endure . . . I fear that all of us are feeling the same frustration, yet are only dealing with it differently."

" . . . Are you . . . frustrated?"

I didn't answer. Instead, we were interrupted by the arrival of a nurse, who seemed to be early. "Hello, guys. Can I get you anything?" Her face was holding a smile, and her hands moved over the monitoring machine as she seemed to be checking something, as Dr. Cable had. I shook my head, and she raised an eyebrow. "How are we with the pain?"

"I am fine."

"No need to play tough. You've been tough enough. Besides, I've seen that gesture a thousand times, like you're trying to hold it all inside." She looked to Bumblebee, her gaze apologetic. "I hope you don't mind. I'm going to give him his dose of pain medicine. He'll be out like a light again, but it'll speed things along."

"No, I don't mind." Bumblebee said, and I released a slow and silent sigh. The nurse grabbed ahold of the tube that led to the needle in my hand, and blocked my view from it as she turned her back to us for a moment. "It's my watch anyway."

"There we go. All set. I'll be back with a click of the button, if anything goes wrong."

"Okay."

I kept my hands were they were, but leaned back fully again, knowing that I would be feeling the effects soon, whatever they might be. I assumed it involved sleep, by the way she had worded things, and while I wanted to stay awake, and look after the Autobots, even in this state, I knew there wasn't much of a choice, not anymore. But when I finally did slip away again, I felt new reassurance; I had a plan in mind, one that would reverse the Change, and get us back how we belonged.