Things settled back into a pattern around the base, but it wasn't one that Nightstalker had anticipated.

Cliffjumper had taken it upon himself to begin to teach Nightstalker how to defend herself. He said—no lie—"The way you tried to fight those Decepticons was pathetic! Didn't anyone teach you anything? You need some major help or you'll end up in the scrap heap so fast I won't realize you're gone!"

Needless to say, Nightstalker wasn't thrilled with his flippant words.

Either way, her training began accompanied by Bumblebee so cute and eager to help with anything he could, but there wasn't much done at first. Cliffjumper literally had her take her gun and do some target practice.

Without elaborating too much on her failure . . . Nightstalker wasn't good at target practice.

And so, there finally came the day where Cliffjumper pulled in the big guns.

Arcee.

"C'mon, Nights," he said with a grin, pulling her by her arm. "Let's go practice some! I want to see you getting scrappy."

Bumblebee looked up with a whir as Arcee and Jack pulled into the base. *Really?* He looked back to the game he was playing with Raf, giving a soft whir. *Hey, do you mind? I want to help train Nights*

"Don't worry about it, Bee!" Cliffjumper said, grinning at Arcee. Nightstalker spark skipped a beat. "Arcee can help us out!"

The femme's gaze flattened. "Not a chance."

"Aww, c'mon, Arcee!" he said cheekily, grabbing her arm when she tried to stalk away. "She can't shoot worth a dime so I've taught her some hand-to-hand combat, and she needs someone her size to practice with. You know? A little femme-on-femme action!" He laughed heartily, but Arcee scowled, jerking her arm away.

"Look, I don't want to have anything to do with—"

"Lighten up, Arcee!" Cliffjumper said, draping an arm around her shoulders. "It's just this one practice—"

"And this one will turn into many," Arcee said, pushing him away again.

Cliffjumper turned on a pout face. "But Arcee . . ." He didn't finish the thought, but solemnly grasped his left arm and gave her a meaningful look.

She narrowed her eyes. "I hate it when you pull that card."

A triumphant grin split his face open, and he winked at Nightstalker. "Ta da! Now, c'mon, let's get busy!"

Nightstalker had no choice but to follow, but her energon tanks churned uncomfortably. "Um . . . Cliff . . ." she murmured quietly, Arcee stalking down the halls at a much faster rate than they were since she pulled against him. "Cliffjumper, I—I don't know if this is such a good idea . . ."

"Sure it is," he said flippantly, tugging her along. "Stop squirming and let's go. You do want to get stronger, right?"

Her wings began to flutter anxiously at the sight of Arcee's clenched hands. "Cliff," she whispered frantically, "you KNOW Arcee doesn't like me."

Cliffjumper threw her a lop-sided smile. "Yeah. But you two have got to get over this hump some day and I can't get her to interact with you in any other way. And what better way to get over stuff and duke it out a little?"

"She'll maul me!" Nightstalker hissed, squirming away again.

Cliffjumper reaffirmed his grip on her, pulling her down the silo halls. "Calm it down, Nights, it's just a practice—"

"If she puts my head on a stick—"

"I'll be there watching, so don't worry, I'm not going to let her do any sorts of permanent damage."

Nightstalker bit her lip nervously, feeling her stomach reeling with stress over what could possibly happen next. Instead, working herself into a nervous wreck, Nightstalker met in the back practice room with the one bot she was sure would still rip her spark out.

Arcee glared at her from across the room, but Cliffjumper ignored it as he came between them. "Remember," he said. "Speed and damage. You gotta be quick—possibly a bit quicker than you usually are. Let instinct teach you. Anywhere you hit her, she's gonna lean in that direction to protect herself. Kay? Nights?"

She jumped when he snapped in her face, snapping her out of a brutal daydream of what Arcee was going to do to her. He smirked a little. "Jeez, calm down. Focus. All right?"

Nightstalker nodded mechanically, orange optics nervously flicking back up to Arcee. The blue femme flexed her fingers.

"Hit early. I know you're timid but suck it up and act like you're Bulkhead in a swarm of scraplets. Attack first and try to get the upper hand." Nightstalker nodded, just barely managing to control the rising panic in her optics. It seemed Cliffjumper saw it because he arched a brow at her. "NO flailing."

"O-okay," she stuttered, wings fluttering like mad.

"Remember some of the wrist locks I taught you? Keep an eye out for a good chance to take advantage of that. Use bigger body parts like your palm or foot to hit small areas like her nose or eyes so that you've got lots of force in a small area to do lots of damage. Conversely, small weapon big target—if you're gonna hit her stomach, use something more like a knuckle punch. Got it?"

"Sure . . ."

"I don't hear any confidence."

Nightstalker huffed out a breath, wrinkling her nose at him. "I don't know how I feel about my own execution . . ."

Cliffjumper rolled his eyes and backed up. He arched an eyebrow at Arcee. "Take it easy on her," he said to her. "Just kinda guide her through the motions and keep it slow so she can pick up on it." His optics twinkled as he stood to the side. "Now, let's see something!"

Arcee didn't move from her position, and even though her stomach churned, Nightstalker forced herself to push it away and instead threw herself into an attack.

She drove her fist forward for Arcee's face, but was easily caught at the wrist. A slight panic attack struck hard and Nightstalker and she threw her other fist, but that one was caught easily. Her optics widened and dilated in pain when Arcee bent her wrists back until a painful point and shoved her away. Nightstalker staggered back, dread creeping in.

Arcee hadn't even blinked.

"Quicker," Cliffjumper called out. "Catch her by surprise if you can."

Nightstalker threw herself back into the practice spar, feinting this time before attacking. Arcee anticipated her easily, knocking her back and then, Nightstalker felt every ounce of breath expelled from her body when something hard hit her chest. She sprawled back on the ground, gasping for breath.

"Jeez, Arcee, I said take it easy!"

Arcee scoffed, tossing her head. "Why should I? No Decepticon is going to take it easy, so she shouldn't be coddled in her training. If Ironhide were training her, he wouldn't."

Nightstalker gulped in some needed air as she sat up, chest plates throbbing, and she saw Cliffjumper frowning. "Well . . . I don't know. Look at her. I think even Ironhide would find somewhere in him to take pity."

"Then Kup wouldn't."

Cliffjumper cringed. "Well . . . I guess not . . ." He looked at her again though, and his frown wrinkled more.

Obviously, he was tongue tied over what to do now. Arcee sent a sneering glance to Nightstalker. "Well, try again."

Her contemptuous tone of voice sent crackles of disdain and fear through Nightstalker.

There's no way I can do this.

Instead, Nightstalker attacked again. Three more times she failed, getting knocked in the side to stagger away; grabbed by the neck and shoved to the floor; shouldered so hard she crashed to the ground.

By this time, Nightstalker was gasping for breath, Cliffjumper saying that Arcee should back it off some, and this time there was steel in his voice.

She couldn't do this. She wasn't strong enough, and Arcee was clearly taking pleasure in humiliating her and hurting her. Sucking up a bit of energon from her lips, Nightstalker looked up at Arcee, and cold blue optics blinked down at her with contempt.

She had been this close to giving up, but suddenly, she thought again.

Nightstalker lunged forward so quickly it surprised Arcee, and she slammed her fist into Arcee's cheek, making the bot grunt and lean away. Taking initiative for once, Nightstalker attacked again, following her as she punched Arcee's stomach plates next, thrusting her knuckles into it like Cliffjumper had taught her. She was rewarded with a grunt from the opposing femme, but her success was short lived. Going for the next closest place as Arcee instinctively hunched over her stomach, Nightstalker went for her neck, but a steely grip latched to her.

Nightstalker cried out when Arcee wrenched her arm back, and for one terrifying instant she was sure Arcee would break her arm. Instead she was met with a knee to the gut, an uppercut to the face, and a two-handed chop across the back. Nightstalker grunted low, skidding across the floor, but she wasn't about to let Arcee think she had beaten her again. Ignoring the pulsing pain, Nightstalker flipped her way into a crouch, bearing her teeth towards Arcee.

If Cliffjumper said anything, she didn't hear it now. Rushing forward again, Nightstalker threw punches as fast and furious as she could, watching the way Arcee's hips turned to help see where she was moving next. However, Arcee disposed of her quickly again, back-handing her, kneeing her gut again, twisting her arms around before picking her up and throwing her across the room again. Nightstalker hit the ground hard on her sensitive wings and cried out, curling up into a fetal position to protect herself from the incensed Autobot.

"Arcee, that's enough."

That commanding voice was not Cliffjumper's. Nightstalker looked up to see Optimus entering the room, blue optics taking in the latest of their last scrap. Nightstalker wiped her lips, staggering up to her feet as she heard Cliffjumper hissing, "I said take it easy! There was no need to beat on her like that!"

"She deserved it!" she heard Arcee snarl venomously back, fists clenched as she glared right back at Cliffjumper. She threw a hand out to Nightstalker. "She deserved every last bit of that, and more, and you know it!"

Cliffjumper's hand clamped down on Arcee's arm. "No," he stressed tightly, "I've already forgiven her for that. You need to put it behind you."

"You're asking me—"

"I AM NOT AIRACHNID!"

The words reverberated off the walls of the training room, and Arcee flinched back like she had been struck by lightning. Her blue optics widened at Nightstalker.

Dead silence coated the room. Her hands were clenched. Her wings were perked straight and stiff, and her orange optics glazed over with hurt.

Astounded that she had even taken the stand, Nightstalker's lips quivered the next time she tried to open her mouth. However, she set her jaw, and gritted the words out again.

"I. Am. Not. Airachnid."

Arcee jolted back again, eyes wide as if she was just now looking at her and seeing her for who she was.

"I am not Airachnid!" Nightstalker shouted again, wanting to grill it into the femme's body so she'd never forget. Arcee recoiled, staggering several steps back. "I am not, nor ever have been, nor ever will be Airachnid!" She felt Optimus's hand rest on her shoulder to calm her, but his touch was like the fire that had licked over Fli-Ni's death bed. Nightstalker wrenched away with blazing eyes before running from the room, leaving them behind.

She darted to her room, slammed the door shut, and stayed there, rocking on her berth, guilt festering and courage plucking, the will to stand up for herself hardening.

It took a bit for Nightstalker to calm herself and leave her room. By then, she made it back to the missile silo just as Arcee did, walking in from opposite ends. The blue femme gave her a carefully veiled look before looking to Raf and Miko playing a racing game, Bulkhead watching.

"Anyone seen Jack?"

The game stopped so quickly there was no doubting the guilty looks Miko and Raf gave each other.

"Not since . . . we last saw him!"

Nightstalker passed her optics over the silo. Where was Ratchet? She could only assume he had gone to the back . . . she briefly wondered what for.

Arcee narrowed her optics. "They're racing, aren't they?"

"Just this once," Raf squeaked, and Nightstalker bypassed wherever Optimus, Ratchet, and Cliffjumper were. Wasn't racing against the rules? Had to be why Arcee was so pissed.

"Did you know about this?" she growled at Bulkhead.

The bot was bigger, but a whole lot more intimidated. "No." He paused. "Maybe." He stalled again before admitting, "A little."

Arcee heaved an irritated sigh just as a call back to base came up, and Nightstalker heard Bumblebee over the comm. stating that he was being chased by—

By Knockout.

Nightstalker's spark did a little flip. The last time she had seen Knockout was, what, over a year ago? She carried fond memories of the vain medical bot, conceited as he was and as driven as he had been to get her to his berth. Still, he had backed off pretty readily when Nightstalker stated she was Megatron's.

However, the reason she looked on him so highly was because he had been the mech that had whisked her from the devastation of Kaon, the bot who had taken her directly to Megatron and asked if she could live.

Then again, she owed Megatron more because he had let her live.

Still, the plan was to keep it from Optimus and Ratchet—and Cliffjumper. Nightstalker didn't even get the chance to scoff at this before Arcee leveled a furious glare at her.

"And don't you say a word."

So, while she and Bulkhead went gallivanting after Bumblebee, Nightstalker sat in the base with Miko and Raf. They eventually started to play again, and Nightstalker politely declined to have a turn. Still, time slowly ticked by, and nervousness began to plague the two kids.

They abandoned the video game and soon hovered over the computer. "They should have called by now," Raf said tensely, sick with worry over his bot and the rest of them. "You think Bumblebee's okay?"

"Don't worry, Raf," Miko said to him. Nightstalker stood on her toes to get a better look at the computer screen. "Bulkhead won't let anything happen to Jack OR Bee."

Nightstalker froze hearing heavy steps. Her wings instinctively perked up and her metal crawled as she turned around to see Optimus walking into the room, looking around for his clearly missing bots. The two kids were arguing in undertones, but that stopped short when Optimus stood directly in front of them. Nightstalker's head craned back to accommodate for his sheer size.

"Raf, Miko, Nightstalker," he questioned with that so-kind voice that Nightstalker absolutely despised. "Do either of you know where the others have gone?"

Miko jumped into a lie immediately, but it was clearly an act, stiff and unbelievable. "Why no, sir. We do not know."

"Miko is correct," Raf repeated nervously. "We do not know."

Nightstalker groaned on the inside. Neither were making eye contact, and Raf's voice broke and squeaked when he lied.

"Why would we know?"

Even Miko's voice squeaked. Nightstalker's gut churned because Optimus clearly didn't believe them, a thoughtful sound grumbling from his chest and a brow arching. He looked to her, and her insides froze.

"Scrap . . ."

Nightstalker heard herself spilling the beans. Things led up as follows: Ratchet bridged Optimus out, Cliffjumper whined that he didn't get to go and missed out on all the fun, Ratchet hit Cliffjumper with a wrench again, and Nightstalker slipped from the room to avoid blame.

All in all, everything turned out all right again with a reprimand from Optimus.

So, time slowly passed, the next week was highly uneventful as well. Cliffjumper and Bumblebee helped train her, and Bulkhead was willing to act as Nightstalker's punching bag. Miko always got a kick out of the training sessions. Most notably though, was Arcee's cold indifference turned from hateful to a wary curiosity. If anything, she didn't treat Nightstalker like the scum of the world anymore, and Nightstalker found it much easier to open up with her friends.

Arcee was called off to check out a sub-terrain energon deposit that Ratchet had detected. She had taken Jack with her to check it out since he had wanted a joy-ride, and so this left them all in the back watching Nightstalker's latest training session, minus Ratchet and Optimus.

Ratchet, with all the work he worked on, and Optimus . . . with wherever Optimus went. Nightstalker wasn't sure, but she didn't really care—it was nice to get him out of her sights when all she wanted to do was sink her claws in him.

"Faster, Nights! Harder! C'mon, there's some type of strength in you somewhere!"

Nightstalker huffed at Cliffjumper, struggling to just hold her own against Bumblebee who was yet still taking it easy on her. His hits weren't that fast or that hard, but it was still too good for Nightstalker. Clenching her jaw, Nightstalker grunted when Bumblebee's fist hit her gut.

She backed away to catch her breath a moment and send a scathing glance Cliffjumper's way. "Shut it up, already, I get it! You've said it a million times!"

He laughed. "And I'll keep saying it until you get it right!"

Nightstalker snorted in irritation and instead focused her optics on Bumblebee. He wagged his fingers in the "come on" position. *Let's see something wild, Nights!*

Nightstalker snorted again—as if she could possibly do that. However, her optics were sidetracked by the sight of a hulk of red and blue watching idly from the doorway.

Her spark hardened at the sight of Optimus. Bottled up anger frizzed up again until it threatened to blow, and Nightstalker's gaze flattened as she turned back to Bumblebee. Sensing a change overcoming her, Bumblebee gave a curious whir before following her into the practice battle again.

Hitting hard and swift, Nightstalker finally did so with enough vigor that even Cliffjumper didn't harp at her. Taking a daring leap, Nightstalker tried to perform the roundhouse kick she had been practicing.

It looked pretty, and it probably would have worked if Bumblebee hadn't grabbed her foot before it met his face. *Nice try!* he chirped cheerily, swinging her around she was so light-weight. Nightstalker used her momentum, curving in and grabbing his waist before he could throw her away. Bumblebee gave a startled cry, and Nightstalker gripped his body tight with her hands. Swinging her legs around, Nightstalker latched the left around Bumblebee's right arm, the back of her knee holding the arm prisoner by the inside of the elbow. Then, swinging up the right leg, she wrapped it around the front of Bumblebee's neck. He yelped again, and before he could use his free left hand to do anything, Nightstalker grabbed it and held it back with both hands, her front draped across his back.

Bumblebee staggered wildly for several seconds, but Cliffjumper cut in with a shout of, "Whoa! WHOA! Hold it still, both of you!"

Nightstalker and Bumblebee froze as well as they could, chests expanding and contracting with every deep breath. Nightstalker watched an upside-down Cliffjumper approach, optics crinkling in shocked admission.

"Nights . . . how the hell did you manage to get yourself in that position?"

Nightstalker looked up at Bumblebee. Her right leg was wrapped around the front of his neck, and her left leg was wrapped around his right arm to hold it back. Her head was currently at his waist, and she literally held on to his left arm for balance.

"Um . . ."

Cliffjumper circled them, inspecting the way her body had so readily contorted. He poked at the leg around Bumblebee's neck. "Can you always do this? Is it that easy? Optimus, look at this! This is ridiculous!"

She heard Optimus make a thoughtful sound, and Cliffjumper laughed again. "Man, what Bulkhead wouldn't give for an ounce of how flexible you are . . ."

Craning her head the other way, Nightstalker saw Bulkhead's optics popping out of his head, Miko and Raf mimicked pictures of him. "How is that . . . even possible?" he managed to stutter out.

"Um . . ." She would seriously, SERIOUSLY never tell them how she was this flexible.

*Nights, you've been holding out on us!* Bumblebee chirped happily. *I bet that kind of flexibility is good for things*

"Seriously," Cliffjumper echoed, shaking his head in disbelief at her twisted body. "Can you get down?"

Nightstalker immediately flipped lithely off of Bumblebee, fluttering her wings a bit nervously. "Um . . . Uh . . ."

Cliffjumper grinned, elbowing her. "Nights, I think we've got to rethink your battling skills! Imagine what you could do if you can dodge with that kind of flexibility! And those electric whips—you'd be great in combat with some practice—" He cut off, holding up a finger as he intercepted what clearly had to be a call from Ratchet since he was the only one not in the room. His smiling face disappeared.

"She what?"

Nightstalker was sure that if Cliffjumper had been human his face would have turned three shades of colors before bleaching white. "Why can't you contact her, Doc?" he asked tightly, fists clenching and unclenching at his side. Nightstalker began to flutter her wings nervously when Cliffjumper's lips thinned.

"I'm coming to the front."

Optimus stepped forward, brows knitting. "Cliffjumper, what is the problem?"

"Arcee," he said, blue optics tightening in worry. "Ratchet said her location and comm. link were compromised, and he can't find her or get a hold of her. That was ten minutes ago."

Nightstalker found her wooden legs walking after Cliffjumper who was all but jogging from the room he was walking so fast. Arcee? And Jack? Her energon tanks curdled. They could be in trouble.

After fighting tooth and nail with Ratchet and Optimus, Cliffjumper finally got permission to check her last coordinates and a perimeter of 100 meters to see if he could find either her or Jack, but was unsuccessful. Inadvertently, Cliffjumper broke a piece of Ratchet's equipment he was so frustrated, causing the stressed medic to bark at him and Cliffjumper to lash back.

If not for Optimus, Nightstalker was sure they would have come to blows.

Finally, when Nightstalker was sure the tension in the silo would make the entire place rupture, there was a patch through to the base.

"Ratchet? Requesting ground bridge."

Cliffjumper jolted. "Arcee?"

There was a palpable pause because she clearly hadn't heard him since he hadn't contacted her. He rushed up to the screen where the beeping blip represented her life form.

"Need to get my partner far away from any oversized insects."

Her tone of voice was light, but weary. Cliffjumper's hand flashed to his comm. link. "Arcee! What happened? Are you all right?"

Nightstalker watched his tense back as he stiffly listened to a brief explanation. "Ratchet's sending the ground bridge," he finally said. His hand kneaded the back of his neck. "See you soon."

Nightstalker backed into the designated corner she had taken when she first came into the ranks of the Autobots. The ground bridge blasted open, and Jack came through first, swatting at a nearly invisible bug. Then, Arcee came in stiffly.

Cliffjumper's blue optics widened in horror. "Arcee—"

He rushed to her, wrapping an arm around her supportively. She winced slightly at his gentle touch. Nightstalker's optics widened as she took in Arcee's exhausted form that was covered in silky webbing. The intensely strong substance locked her back struts tightly, and there were telltale gouges along her body that leaked energon.

She had clearly burned a lot of energon. That was apparent because she hobbled along on weak ankles with the help of Cliffjumper until he gently scooped her up into his arms, his shoulders ridged with concern.

"Cliff, don't, I'm—"

"Don't give me that slag, Arcee. Just let me help."

Nightstalker's lips twisted up a little at his heartfelt reprimand as he gently sat her down on the edge of the medical berth. Ratchet shooed Cliffjumper away much to the mech's anger, a deep scowl etching its way across his face. Nightstalker fled from the room, going to the back to collect the energon cube Arcee was desperately in need of.

Ratchet was still busy peeling Airachnid's webbing from her body when Nightstalker returned. The time was getting late, and Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Miko, and Raf all said their goodbyes—even Jack. Ratchet deemed that Arcee had strained her engines too badly to be driving that kind of distance yet.

Turns out, she had forced herself to drive straight through webbing thick enough to cripple even the strongest of bots.

When Ratchet quite distinctly moved away from Arcee's upper body to work on her legs, Nightstalker figured it was okay to give Arcee the energon cube. She passed it to her, but before she could retreat, Arcee's hand snapped around her wrist. Nightstalker jumped.

"I—" Arcee looked up to her with a curious mix of sorrow, understanding, and fear. "I'm sorry. You—" She dropped her head and hand away, suppressing a shiver. "You're nothing like Airachnid."

"Um . . ." Nightstalker backed uncertainly away, wings fluttering a little. "Thank you," she said softly, accepting the meek apology.

They waited a while longer, and Arcee explained briefly to Optimus what had happened, and also how proud she was of Jack. Optimus asked how she was, but she opted not to answer.

Nightstalker thought of her former mentor. Arcee was either too afraid to answer, or chose not to answer because she knew she would be lying, and Nightstalker had experienced firsthand that you couldn't lie to Optimus.

When finally, finally Ratchet said that Arcee should go get a good recharge, Cliffjumper swooped in and scooped her up close to his chest, hugging her gently but possessively. Arcee's arms wrapped around him, holding him close as well. Her fingers tightened into his back, and only then did Nightstalker get a small ray of light that Arcee's expedition today had disturbed her more than she wanted to admit.

After all, Arcee leaned upon no one.

Cliffjumper dropped comforting kisses on the top of her helm, and his blue optics looked up, drilling into Nightstalker's. Nightstalker felt her orange optics widen, and inadvertently, at the sheer passions embroiled deep in his eyes, she took a step back. Keeping eye contact with her, Cliffjumper placed several absent kisses on Arcee's head, and it took Nightstalker several moments more to realize that Cliffjumper was silently saying that he understood Arcee better for what Nightstalker had made him go through in the torture chamber. If anything, Nightstalker had heightened the bond between them, and . . . he was saying something else as well. Then Cliffjumper's arms tightened on Arcee. He lifted her up into his arms, and began to walk out of the silo.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Ratchet said quickly, eyeing them both distrustfully.

"Out," Cliffjumper said shortly, ignoring the disapproval of Ratchet. "I doubt you'd want to hear us."

It took Nightstalker the breath of a moment to understand.

"No you don't," Ratchet repeated, taking several steps to him. "She's not ready for that kind of strenuous exercise yet—"

"Shut it, Doc," Cliffjumper said with the rare bite of a snarl hidden beneath. He turned around enough to glare at the medical bot. "I'll do all the work gently."

A hitch sounded out from Cliffjumper's systems when Arcee leaned up and nibbled on some of the exposed wires in his neck. He sucked in a quick breath before bunching her up closer and striding quickly from the silo.

Nightstalker bypassed Optimus and Ratchet for sleep. Still, she lied on her berth for a long time, contemplating Arcee's forgiveness. It was nice. She felt better, in fact, and she was getting pretty eager to get to know her. But Cliffjumper . . . He had hidden something in those eyes of his. Nightstalker couldn't distinguish it then or now, and she could only wonder until finally she fell into a recharge.

Author's Note:

Over the hump with Arcee, Nightstalker gaining confidence . . .

Next episode I'll be working with is Sick Mind. :D

Also, the meaningful gesture Cliffjumper used to get Arcee to help train Nightstalker when he grabbed his arm? When they both first crash landed on Earth, Starscream attacked them, blowing off Arcee's arm, thus Cliffjumper had to protect her, thus, bringing it up when he wants her to do something. True story, read it on the Transformers Wiki.