AN: In my opinion, this chapter is kind of boring. But I wrote it purely because I wanted the dialouge between the characters. Enjoy.

Autobot Base:

It was sad to see a proud mech reduced to this – nothing more than a broken shell of his former self, not caring whether he lived or died.

Bulkhead would've once felt a sense of triumph at seeing a Decepticon like this, but he only felt pity. He reassured himself time and time again that the red medic deserved it, but he still pitied the 'con.

He opened the door to the training center, locking it behind him. Quietly, he scooped up the discarded tools Ratchet gave to Knock Out so he could fix himself; they were unused.

Bulkhead had done this before, trying to pique the racer's interest. He said nothing, walking toward the red medic, hoping for some reaction. Easing to a stop just before he reached Knock Out, he held out the tools.

Nothing.

Bulkhead sighed in disappointment. "You're going to bleed out if you don't patch up that hole." He took another step forward, pleased to see Knock Out's hand stretched out tentatively in front of him, asking for the tools.

Just as quickly, Knock Out turned away, empty-handed. He lowered his head in submission.

"I will use force to get you to let Ratchet fix you if I have to," Bulkhead warned. He placed the medical instruments down beside Knock Out. "Just take them."

The red medic stiffened, his armor rising ever so slightly, an indignant hiss escaping him. But still he said nothing. Whatever scrap of his pride remained would not allow him to listen to an Autobot. He made no move to grab the tools.

Bulkhead sighed once more and left the room, not bothering to check to see if Knock Out dared to try and escape. He never made a move to suggest he would try.

As he locked the carbon-steel door, he heard a loud crash coming from inside, followed by a metallic clatter.

Arcee turned around, quizzically staring at him.

Bulkhead shrugged. "He probably threw the tools at the door." He pretended to look frustrated.

But inside he was smiling. For the first time, Knock Out had reacted to him.

Later:

Agent Fowler was not pleased. He had been gone for three weeks and practically missed everything. Now the Autobots were holding a Decepticon prisoner and refused to set him free. The government officer put a hand to his head. "Remind me again – just who is this Decepticon?"

"His name is Knock Out," Ratchet replied evenly.

"Knock Out," Fowler mused. "By chance is he the one who partners with the 'con previously captured by MECH?"

Optimus replied in the affirmative.

"And why exactly do you not let such a perpetually annoying and vain mech go?"

Ratchet shifted uncomfortably, returning his attention to his work. Arcee and Bumblebee looked at Bulkhead. The former Wrecker looked at Optimus.

"He was supposed to be a spy." The Prime answered simply.

"And?"

"And he betrayed us. End of story." Arcee was in a foul mood. 'He chose to side with the enemy, made us look like fools, and very nearly got himself killed doing it."

"Prime, you're going to have to let him go eventually. You can't keep him here." Fowler tried to appeal to Optimus' overdeveloped sense of right and wrong. "He's not one of your troops. I could see Wheeljack – should he ever return – being confined to base because of something he did, but this is a Decepticon. He's not technically under your jurisdiction. In any case, he was probably just following orders. Besides, you don't have the resources."

An ear-splitting screech broke through the momentary silence.

Ratchet quickly left the room, heading for the training hall. When he came back, there were several chunks of armor missing from his forearm.

"Again?" Bulkhead moaned.

Bumblebee beeped in exasperation.

Ratchet nodded. "He still has to shake off the effects. It could be weeks."

Agent Fowler was even more confused now. "Shake off the effects of what, exactly?"

Optimus exchanged a glance with Ratchet. "Knock Out was infected with dark energon. It all burned out after he was subdued, but it seems that its effect still lingers."

Ratchet leaned over to grab the welder from a nearby berth. "Every so often, something overtakes him, and he just goes crazy. Someone needs to be there to calm him down before he hurts himself. Other than that, he's as silent as the grave." He began repairing the damage to his arm.

"What makes him different than other Decepticons? Even if he was a spy for you guys, he chose to side with the 'cons. Why do you keep him here?" Fowler's irritated expression succeeded in further annoying Ratchet.

"Because I trained him, that's why. I trained him to be a medic, and then he volunteered to infiltrate the Decepticon ranks," the chief medic retorted. "He always was different, perhaps too like one of them from the start." Ratchet seemed to be talking to himself more than anyone else. Then he snapped back into focus. "And sending him back to the Nemesis would be suicide for him. If Megatron sent him here, to attack us in our own base, then he never expected – or wanted – Knock Out to come back. He feared betrayal and knew he would never have complete loyalty from the medic."

Fowler just shook his head at the Autobot's reasoning. There would be plenty of time to get down to the root of the matter later. Perhaps he could actually talk to the captive Decepticon.

Still Later:

Ratchet listened for another sound, but none came. He looked down at the marks on his forearm, not completely erased, remembering that Knock Out himself was pretty much incoherent, and the aftereffects of being infused with that much poisonous energy were taking their toll on him.

This time, the red mech had gotten his drill stuck in the wall and didn't think to simply reverse the direction of rotation. The time before that, he'd accidentally hit himself in the head with his own saw, cleaving off a good portion of his armor.

But the first time Ratchet had been to see him was about fixing him.

The small figure was almost doubled-over on himself; his shoulders were hunched, his head angled toward the ground.

Ratchet approached him carefully. He held his medical kit in one hand, the other connected lightly with the other mech's shoulder guard.

Instantly, his hand was shrugged off, a growl coming from deep in the younger medic's throat. Knock Out kept his back turned toward Ratchet, staring at the opposite side of the room.

Ratchet dared to ask the question that had been bothering him for a while now. "Why did you choose to side with them, Knock Out?"

There was no reply from the red mech below him, only a noticeable stiffening of his armor.

"Why did you side with them?" Ratchet's voice was gentle, as if he were talking to a new apprentice or confused youngling.

And Knock Out exploded. "Why? Why? Because you'd never trust me! Because I felt like I belonged there more than here! Because the Decepticons were better comrades than the Autobots ever were!" He swiped, his optics blazing.

Ratchet ducked the blow, grabbing Knock Out by the arm. "Control yourself. I'm trying to help you."

The fury in the racer's optics deepened. "You want to help? Leave me alone!" He knocked the medical kit from Ratchet's grasp. "Leave me be! I don't care if I rust; just go away! I never want help from any Autobot again!" He kicked Ratchet with all his strength, forcing the larger mech to let go of him.

Ratchet stared at him in barely registering shock. "Get a grip; the dark energon is still controlling you."

"No, it's not," Knock Out snarled. He glowered at his former mentor, his hand shifting into a saw. "You won't listen to me! This is me and you obviously know nothing about who I am. Come to your senses and listen to me. I am a Decepticon, not one of your Autobots."

He did not speak again.