A/N: Wow, I really wanted to just thank everyone for all the reviews, favorites, and follows this has already received! Your response has been amazing guys, thank you so much!

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CHAPTER 3
Revelations and Frustrations

Reese could tell Ratchet absolutely nothing, and with good reason. The man was bound to confidentiality, and Dylan was a minor. So he hadn't even questioned it, or gotten angry. Rather, Ratchet did the next best thing, the only thing he could do. Ratchet went online, and began to look for answers on his own. There were so many Logan's in the world that at first it had seemed an impossible task. But then Ratchet remembered, silently what First Aid had once mentioned, Dylan had been involved in some sort of scandal.

And so he typed in the words "Logan" and "Scandal" into a search engine, and found what he thought was likely the answer. The story came from Oregon, and talked about a man named Eugene Logan, thirty-five, who had been arrested on grounds of suspected child molestation some nine years ago, the right time-frame for when Dylan had come into care, he noted. But the story didn't end there...

Eugene had been quickly found out to be a pedophile, the stories went on to add. His home had been a house of horrors, as the story stated. And Eugene had treated his one and only known victim (it was believed there were more, but none had come forward) in a horrible manner, in deplorable conditions. The one victim, whose abuse was reported by a neighbor? Well, that explained everything with one line:

"The victim, the man's unnamed son, five years old. Who was believed to have suffered daily abuse at the hands of..."

Ratchet could not read any more, he gently pushed away, feeling his optics softening. He didn't need confirmation that it was Dylan, because it added up to everything that Ratchet had found so far. The mech could only imagine what the boy had gone through now, and at the hands of his own father. It was no wonder the boy had these trust issues now, he realized, who in their right mind wouldn't after that?

He'd stopped his search after that, not wanting, or daring to look further into the story. It was a disturbing look into this child's past, and he'd rather be spared the graphic details of what may have happened in that house. But now, without even a doubt, the sadness that Ratchet felt towards the young foster child who had joined his group had just intensified ten-fold.

He had wanted to tell First Aid his findings first thing. But ultimately he decided that it was best that he kept the fact he had looked up information on Dylan to himself. If the boy found out he was telling others his story, he had no chance of getting through to this boy. But perhaps if he kept it to himself, unless for some reason he came to him, he could continue to try and make some kind of breakthrough with the boy.

And so he had done his best to keep his mind off of Dylan throughout the week. To get his mind off of the mental images that now ran through his mind. The thought of what kind of a life Dylan must have had while at the mercy of his father, the one person he should have been able to trust. So it was this that compelled Ratchet, two weeks later, to look a little further into the story, though into no more details of the abuse.

He found, thankfully, that Eugene was put into jail rather quickly. He'd only gotten a small sentence, much to Ratchet's disgust, of eight years (having been sentenced a year after his arrest), and was set to be released soon. He'd gotten five years for molesting Dylan, and another three for possessing child pornography. They might have gotten him on more if it could have been proven that he had been molested more. But Dylan had not been able to tell them much beyond the day they were caught, as he was probably too scared to do so. That said, the fact the trial was based on the one time the man was caught in the action, and the fact that none of the porn showed his victim worked against him. And though the man was suspected by some to keep him in deplorable conditions they found; again, they had no proof he was kept there, as there was also a nice children's room that contradicted some of the evidence.

In other words, the man had gotten off lucky. That was the human justice system at work, he guessed.

The thought made him sick to his spark, wondering quietly what Dylan would think of his father being back on the streets in what seemed to be about six months from that day. He shuddered quietly, taking a deep breath. The only thing that brought him comfort to that fact was that no doubt, his rights to the boy had to have been terminated by now.

Everything about this information was bothering him however. After all, he had too big, and kind a spark under his gruff exterior for it not to. "Ratch?" Ratchet jumped as he turned to see First Aid enter his office. "Is everything okay, bro? You've been holed up in the office on your computer again," He added.

Carefully clicking out of the article he had just read on Eugene, he looked up at him quietly. He felt his body tense, and his optics looked down at his desk silently. "It's nothing, Aid," Ratchet told him, even though it was a lie. "I'll be right out for surgery. If you'll give me just a few minutes," He added as he stood to his feet. "I just had something to look up on the internet before," He added.

But he knew that First Aid could see through his lie of being fine, he knew him too well not to. But even if he told First Aid what he had learned, what could he do? About as little as Ratchet could at the moment, or so he gathered. And so, he would face this alone for the moment, it was not a big deal. He'd be alright, he figured, he'd handled things alone, and kids alone before.

It just so happened it was nothing this big, or conflicting as this situation was before.

...

Two weeks flew by with relatively nothing of note in Dylan's life. Neil had been silent since the first day, and for that Dylan was very grateful. But he also could feel the glare on his back any time he was around, and of course, he knew that the boy didn't like him. The other kids were not that way, not at all, in fact, they seemed to be nice for the most part, and he'd started to exchange some words with them. He mostly had made friends with another kid, a girl named Scarlet.

Not true to her name, she was African American, with piercing brown eyes, and flowing black hair, but she was also the toughest out of all of them. With some great muscle, and a good figure to boot. She was around Dylan's age, he guessed, but having been raised under different circumstances was also the most open and friendly of the bunch. She'd grown up in a family with a lot of love to go around, who she seemed to get along with fine.

But unlike his foster siblings, she did not throw that around with Dylan. In fact, she'd guessed quite quickly that he didn't come from a family, or from anywhere with love. So she'd simply done her best to reach out to him, and be friendly, much to Ratchet's seeming delight. Like now, as they finished scrubbing the wall of a drug store. She'd been doing that a lot, helping him out. She said that everyone needed a partner, and if he wasn't coming to one, one was coming to him instead.

She sighed, sweat soaking her shirt as she turned to Dylan with a small smile. "You starting to see why we don't like your "artwork" yet, Dyl?" She asked him honestly, it was the same question she'd asked for a while now. "Really, most of your taggers are pretty good. But someone has to clean up your mess, and that took almost two hours," She explained.

Dylan grimaced, he had to admit, he was starting to see what they meant. Cleaning up the work was like going through hell, and he hated it. But he'd never painted with a canvas like artist's were "supposed" to, so he didn't know any better. "I haven't been out in three weeks," He told her honestly. "So I'd say I'm getting it. Though I think it's a waste, I mean some of this stuff is really good," He added.

"Well, that's a start," Scarlet snorted slightly. "Ratchet's gonna call us back any minute now though," She noted at the sunset that was starting over the city. "So I guess we'll continue your education another time," She then added. "So tomorrow's Sunday, anything planned for your day off?"

Dylan shrugged honestly, when did he ever have plans anymore? His plans used to be going out, and causing mischief. But now he was on probation, or whatever this was. And to say the least, doing any of that was absolutely out of the question. "I think the Johnson's are going out to the movies to see that new Marvel movie," He explained. "I might join them, or I might wait. I really don't care to see a movie with them much."

Scarlet nodded her head a little, rubbing her arm. "I get it, they don't sound like a friendly bunch from what you've said," She shook her head. "I'd invite you over to my place sometime. But we don't know each other that well yet. And my dad gets a little crazy about boys being over at the house," She added.

Dylan laughed only to make her feel better really. It wasn't like he'd expect anything to happen between them, he didn't want that right now at all. If they were together long enough, she'd learn about what happened to him as a kid. And he figured, at the end of the day, how did he explain to a girl about what happened? It'd get even harder as he got older he guessed, how could you tell a girl you'd never experience your first time with them? Let alone who your first time HAD been with? He closed his eyes, and breathed out

"No it's cool, I get it," He told her with a small smile. "Really, I'm not... Interested like that," He told her honestly. "You're beautiful and all, but..."

They stood there, and he knew Scarlet probably expected more. But eventually, the girl merely smiled as Ratchet shouted for them to load up on the bus. "It's okay, you know, I get it too," She told him honestly. "You've been through a lot I'm guessing. I won't pry," She then added. "Now come on, we should get back."

But as she jogged off, Dylan really wondered if she meant it. Could he ever really get close to a girl? Could he ever bring himself to trust anyone enough to, for that matter? He didn't know, he couldn't even figure out if he was okay to be around adults. Girls? Well, they were another thing entirely. But he didn't have time to think of these, even if Scarlet was beautiful, chances were she'd never look at him that way.

And for now, he was just okay with that.

...

As usual, the Johnson's were late to picking him up from the hospital. They might have gone out to an early dinner, or maybe they just took a nap. But for whatever reason, Dylan was leaning against the wall of the hospital, underneath a glass roof and watching as the rain came down. Of course, that had to add to the mood that Scarlet had put him in earlier that day. It had been overcast all day, but he had really not expected the pouring rain that followed.

He sighed quietly, wondering if the family had gotten his text. But in a way, he didn't want them to come at this point. Why couldn't they find time for him in their perfect, "happy" little lives? He pulled his jacket over himself more, and crossed his arms in frustration. He tried his best not to grumble, after all, it wasn't like him to do that, but he found himself failing in general. "Dylan?" Dylan jumped as he turned to see Ratchet stepping out. "Are they STILL not here?"

Dylan looked at the mech, who looked genuinely concerned, and nodded slightly. "It's fine," He added. "When the rain stops, I can walk. It's only about twenty minutes away," He told him honestly.

Ratchet frowned, the thought of it must have disgusted him. Because he looked truly, genuinely concerned at the fact that it might have been what he had to do. The mech stepped behind the door, carefully holding it open. "For pit's sake, you're not walking out there in this weather," Ratchet told him bluntly. "It was already bad enough today. But now it's pouring rain. Come in and get warm," He added. "And that is not a suggestion."

"They'll-."

"Be coming to collect you inside," Ratchet replied without letting him finish. "I wish to have a word with these people that call yourselves your caretakers," He added with a hint of anger, though Dylan could tell it wasn't directed at him. "Now come on youngling, I can tell you're cold. And I have a lull in my work," He added.

Dylan felt his body tighten, fear filling every pour of his body. But something told him that for the moment, at least, Ratchet was trying to be kind. Had he ever really been cruel to him yet? Not really, a little rough, but so far, he had been careful to make sure his door was open and he felt safe. And so, against his better judgement, he quietly entered the hospital quietly, allowing Ratchet to lead him down a hallway, though Dylan was mostly quiet.

"I want you to be honest with me, Dylan," Ratchet began. "Do these people that take care of you treat you with any kindness at all?"

Dylan tried to think about his answer to that carefully. They didn't beat him, or yell at him, that was for sure. But they didn't treat him very nicely either, not with the glares, the coldness, and the inability to treat him on an equal plain to their own children. "They aren't bad people," Dylan replied, trying to keep his tone level. "They're actually a lot better than a lot of other homes I've been to. So I can't really complain," He added.

"Like pit you can't," Ratchet replied. "There are ways other than abuse to mistreat a youngling. And if you ask me, they are neglecting you to extreme levels," He explained as they turned, and entered a massive cafeteria. "Don't you know that? Primus! Anyone deserves better than the way they treat you. And it's starting to really make me angry," He added.

But that was the thing, Dylan didn't know any better. How could someone who had never known a truly loving home in his life even hope to know any better? He hung his head a bit, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes, and by the look on the mech's face, the medic had quickly realized his poor choice of words. "Apologies, I did not mean to lose my temper like that," Ratchet replied, taking a deep breath. "I grew up in the Cybertronian version of foster care until certain events put me somewhere WORSE. And it angers me to think that anyone suffers neglect like First Aid and I did," He admitted.

"It's okay!" Dylan insisted, frustrated now. "I've been to fifteen homes in nine years, I get it," Ratchet frowned a little at that. "It's like living in a hotel from what I hear about those. I'm a guest there, not a member of anyone's family," He then added, loudly. "I don't need your damn charity!"

Ratchet looked hopelessly at the young human. How could anyone put these thoughts into a young child's head? Every child deserved to be part of a family, especially ones that had gone through the horrible things that Dylan had. He remembered the story he had looked up after Reese had turned him down, and felt sick again. This boy probably deserved a home with someone who cared about him more than any youngling he'd met so far.

And Ratchet knew he could be at least one of those things: someone who cared. Though the first thought had, without a doubt, come into his mind. He was at least someone who, even if things were rough at home, could still show Dylan that the whole world didn't pity, or not care about him. "Listen here," Ratchet told him sternly. "It's almost seven o'clock, your foster creators are not here. And you have to be STARVING," Dylan backed up slightly as Ratchet raised his voice. "You're going to sit down, and you're going to let me get you something to eat. And whether you like it or not, I will have a word with your foster creators when they get here. Are we clear, Dylan Logan?"

The boy looked down again, but finally, made his way towards a table without another word, and seated himself down. As Ratchet began to approach the ordering counter, he could notice, out of the corner of his eye, that the boy was looking at him with wonder. Probably trying to decide somewhere in that mind of his why Ratchet was so assertive about this. Or maybe, Ratchet hoped, was starting to think he could trust this mech even in the smallest of ways.

He turned to leave the boy alone as he ordered a healthy meal for him. He wasn't about to put junk food in the boy's body, however strange that may have been. But he soon returned, with his holoform carrying what appeared to be chicken, some fruit, vegetables, and a bottle of water to him. Dylan seemed to take in his holoform calmly, it was that of a man in his mid-fifties, with his hair greying and his eyes a deep blue. He looked like a doctor, which was fitting, but also a tough one at that.

"So what are you going to do? Get me taken out of the home?" Dylan asked, biting into the chicken calmly. "Maybe sixteenth time's the charm," He added.

Ratchet furrowed his optic ridge slightly, venting out. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when they got there exactly. Maybe he'd try and convince the family to treat him kinder, but if that didn't work, what other choice did he have other than report it to Reese? He would not stand by and let a boy knowingly be treated the way they were treating Dylan, it wasn't right and he knew it. "We can worry about that later," He grumbled slightly. "Eat your dinner, youngling. And try not to think too much about it," He added.

Dylan looked up at Ratchet for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not to trust him. But he didn't argue, he simply bit into the food, and continued to scarf it down. Ratchet seated himself down beside him, in a Transformer-sized chair, and watched him silently. What was it that compelled him towards this boy so much? He'd known other younglings before, even ones in foster homes. But something about Dylan was different, and in this sense, he felt drawn to him in a way that he couldn't possibly understand.

He promised himself that he couldn't possibly be becoming attached to Dylan any more than he was with the other kids. And even if he was, he probably wasn't what Dylan needed. He was strict, but fair, yes, but the boy was traumatized more than enough. He shook his head as he found himself thinking this, he couldn't be thinking about this. He barely knew the boy at all, and their relationship was professional at best. He could not get attached like that, he would not.

He rested a fist under his chin silently, shuttering his optics as he leaned back. But at the same time, he questioned, if these feelings meant nothing, why was it that Primus had put this boy in his path? A boy who had been through so much, but whom he could do nothing more than he was now for. "Are you going to stare at me like that all night?" Dylan asked nervously, his eyes raising to look at him.

Ratchet shook himself from his thoughts yet again, and forced a half smile onto his face. "Nah, I was just lost in my own train of thought," He told him honestly, then looked at the phone Dylan had obviously taken out. "Any word from them?" He questioned.

Dylan shook his head silently, and Ratchet looked at the nearly finished plate of food. Frag it, if these people weren't going to come to Dylan, he was going to them. And if they had a reason to worry about meeting Ratchet before? They were really in for it now. "When you're done, I'm taking you home," Ratchet commented. "I'm tired of this," He growled.

He tried to ignore the look of worry that crossed Dylan's face.