Knockout wiped down the operating table, cleansing it of the remnants of his last surgery. "Any more patients waiting, Breakdown?"

"That was the last of them." His assistant confirmed. "What do you want me to do now?"

"Start cataloguing the salvage parts. And be careful this time; we can't afford to have you breaking things."

"I didn't break anything," Breakdown grumbled, but he did as he was told. Knockout mopped up the last of the energon and cleaned his tools. Got to keep everything operation-ready—the flow of patients never stopped for long on the Nemesis.

His comm-link chirped suddenly. He answered it with a huff of annoyance. "Yes?"

"Knockout." The gravelly voice of their leader filled his audials. Automatically, he stood at attention. "Come to the brig. I have need of your… talents."

"I'll be right there, my liege." Knockout set down the saw he'd been sharpening and left for the brig. "Talents," Megatron had said. That meant there was a prisoner to interrogate. Knockout grinned. He was, of course, a brilliant medic when it came to repairs, but interrogations were where he really shone. He wondered which unfortunate Autobot would be the recipient of his skills.

The brig door slid open with a hiss. Megatron stood at the far end, next to a shackled mech. His head was bowed, obscuring his face, but Knockout noticed that the prisoner's finish was the same crimson color as his own. A shame he had to ruin such an exquisite paint job. But orders were orders. He stepped up to Megatron and bowed. "How may I be of assistance, my liege?"

Megatron jerked his head at the mech chained to the wall. "This Autobot is being uncooperative. See if you can loosen his tongue."

"I'll do more than loosen it," Knockout promised with a smirk. He transformed his hands, releasing his signature buzz-saws. They glinted wickedly in the dull light. As he approached his victim, the prisoner looked up. Blue optics stared into red ones.

Knockout froze.

Sideswipe was staring back at him. But… that was impossible. Sideswipe hadn't even been alive during the war, how could he be a prisoner on the Nemesis? And yet that was undoubtedly his sparkling shackled to the wall.

"What are you waiting for, Knockout?" Megatron demanded from behind him. "Show this insolent whelp why we call you the 'Doctor of Doom.'"

One of Knockout's buzzsaws turned on. He tried to deactivate it, but it wouldn't shut off. His arm moved, bringing the saw closer to Sideswipe's neck cables. Knockout wasn't controlling his motions anymore; he was just watching as some other force manipulated him. And the whole time, Sideswipe was staring into his optics, a look of abject terror on his face.

Sideswipe had never been scared of him before.

No…

The light gleaming off the sharp blades—

No!

The fear in Sideswipes optics as the saw fell—

NO!

Knockout jolted awake. He stared at the ceiling for a long minute, his processor reeling. His spark pounded frantically in his chest as if trying to beat its way out. He let out a deep breath—partly from relief and partly from despair.

He sat up with a groan and rubbed his optics. This wasn't the first time he'd had the dream. It'd been a recurring nightmare ever since he'd adopted Sideswipe. He didn't have to be a psychiatrist to know what it meant. His processor, making a scenario in which his worst fears were realized. He wasn't sure which part of the nightmare was worse: that fact that he was hurting Sideswipe, or that Sides was afraid of him. Either way, the dream had been plaguing him more and more often lately. Perhaps because, in a way, his fears were coming true—

No! Stop that! Knockout snapped at himself. He was not losing Sideswipe. He had not failed as a guardian. Sides was just going through a phase. In a few years, once he'd matured a bit, he'd thank Knockout for trying to keep him in line. The resentment would go away and everything would be back to normal. He just had to be patient. And keep Sides out of jail in the meantime.

Knockout sighed. He was exhausted. He yearned to go back to recharge, but the nightmare still nagged at the back of his mind, wreaking havoc with his imagination. He got up and left his room. He needed to see Sideswipe—needed to remind himself that the sparkling was all right. Even if he knew it was just paranoia, he wouldn't be able to rest until he saw that his charge was safe in his berth.

The stairs creaked as he climbed to the second floor. He stepped as lightly as possible—it'd be awkward if he woke Sides up. The youngling didn't need to know about his guardian's night terrors. Plus, he'd throw a fit if he knew he was being checked on. Lately, Sideswipe shunned any kind of "hovering" behavior. He was so insistent that he didn't need any help, that he was grown up now and didn't want to be coddled. Knockout sighed. Time was moving far too quickly for his liking. Soon Sideswipe would be an adult—or what passed for an adult in their rebuilding society. He'd leave home and start his own life and Knockout would be alone. Again.

Knockout shook off the thought. He'd deal with that issue when he came to it. For now, he wasn't ready to let go. Reaching Sideswipe's door, he quietly eased it open. Just a quick peek to satisfy his panicking processor and then back to bed. Light from his headlights spilled through the gap in the doorway as he peered inside.

And froze.

He shoved the door the rest of the way open. His headlights lit up the room—the empty room. There was no one on the berth.

Sideswipe was gone.

To be continued...
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