N HARMONIC: Well I'm very glad to hear that you gave this fic a chance and ended up liking it! :D I hope you enjoy this latest chapter as well. :)

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CHAPTER 4
An Unexpected Decision

Dylan felt discomfort as Ratchet drove through the streets of Jasper that night. He hadn't touched him, he hadn't even really done anything but grumble to himself. But the fact that they were going to confront the Johnson's did worry him, big time. He didn't know how either one of them would react to this random mech pounding on their door demanding to know why they treated their foster son the way they did.

They pulled up to the Johnson's home twenty minutes later, and though Dylan had moved to open the ambulance door, it locked itself. This was it, Dylan told himself, Ratchet was going to do something to him now. But rather than offer him any abuse, the mech's holoform turned to Dylan, and shook his head. "Not until I know I'll be okay with leaving you here," Ratchet told him bluntly. "Stay right here, Dylan."

And so without another word, the holoform disappeared, and reappeared outside. Dylan watched from the window as Ratchet approached the home in the rain and sighed. Leaning back against his seats, he didn't say anything since the medic was the ambulance he was seated in after all. And so he simply watched as Ratchet beat on the door loud enough that even from his spot in the ambulance he could hear it. Ratchet waited for a while, and then knocked even harder, his patience wearing thin.

Dylan knew they weren't home if that was the case. But given his phone hadn't gone off, they weren't looking for him either. They'd probably gone to the movies without him, he figured. Probably figured he'd walk home, go in, and feed himself, as he had done a few times already. "Do you have a key to the home?" Dylan nodded slightly, since Ratchet's holoform was looking right at him. "Good, I'm getting in touch with Reese Cunningham. I'm sure he'll have a few words for them that I apparently can't deliver," The mech sounded angrier than Dylan could have imagined. "Get your things together, he'll meet us at my home."

When the door flew open, Dylan knew better than to argue. He knew that he was going to be moved, and though he didn't get it, Ratchet seemed to think it was for good reason. So he simply took out his key, opened the door, and made his way to his small room quickly. In foster care, they provided garbage bags for you to pack your things in, and it so happened Dylan had saved a few from his move to the Johnson's. So he simply pulled them out from behind his dresser slowly, and began to open up the drawers.

He really didn't have much in the way of property, minus his clothes. So it was quite easy to fill up the bags with everything he had before, and the very little he had with, the Johnson's. The only other items he had were a raddy stuffed bear he'd gotten from his first (well-meaning) foster family, a picture of his mom which he kept safely in his pocket, and a couple of books. Along with his backpack, school supplies, and texbooks, this was all that Dylan had to his name.

He was outside the house after a few minutes with three trash bags, and with his backpack slung over his shoulder. And as usual when people saw them, he could see that Ratchet was frowning at the sight. Turning to the holoform, who was nice enough to grab one of the bags, he frowned slightly. "So Reese already approved a move, huh?" Dylan asked calmly. "How long has he known?"

"I'd been keeping him informed through First Aid," Ratchet told the boy honestly. "I know it happened fast, but you're better off living somewhere else. The fact they had the nerve to go out and keep you waiting," He then added. "And before you ask, yes, I called the hospital. They were nowhere to be found," He asserted.

Dylan almost had the feeling the Johnson's had wanted this. Frankly, it wouldn't have been the first time that a foster family had tried to get rid of him. He opened his door for Dylan to throw his things in, and the boy was happy to oblige. "Whatever, this is nothing new," Dylan shrugged his shoulders. "You've been through this, right? You know the drill. People in the system suck," He added.

"Is that why you act out the way you do?" Ratchet asked as Dylan climbed inside. "Because people in the system suck?"

Dylan groaned slightly, this old mech, and his prying was starting to get on his nerves. Why couldn't he just leave him alone and pretend that he didn't exist like most adults tried to? He was doing just fine before this mech showed up in his life and started to actually... Well, care. Why did he care? And why did he not get even the slightest bit annoyed by his attitude? Dylan didn't understand it, he didn't understand it at all, and quite frankly it scared him.

Maybe the mech wanted something out of him. If it wasn't what his father had always wanted, maybe it was something else. He wouldn't do much for slave labor, he was way too thin for that. But maybe he was trying to keep him in this community service project of his, maybe he figured if they formed some kind of bond that he would stay. He thought things over as they drove through the streets and towards where Ratchet lived.

Dylan wasn't surprised to find that Ratchet lived in a nicer part of town. He'd figured by now that even if the mech wasn't rich, he was better off than the Johnson's. But Dylan was more concerned about what would happen when they got to the home if anything. He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, and focus on the road as they drove down the street, with any luck, he may just be a nice mech after all.

...

Inside the home, Ratchet put the young boy on an Autobot sized couch, and found a massive, but soft blanket he could wrap up in. After all, the storm was still going outside, and it was coming down harder now. So the boy was, without a doubt, soaked from head-to-toe. Ratchet wasn't surprised when Reese called him to tell him that the storm was going to keep him off the road for the night, forcing Ratchet to have to look after Dylan for the night. But he was nervous, and what's more, tense about it.

He knew the boy would probably be a little scared, but hopefully not too badly. He was used to staying in unusual homes, after all, and perhaps he'd do better on account of that. But Ratchet also had to hope that, at least until Reese was able to arrive when the storm cleared up the next day, the boy could at least somewhat trust him. "Well," Ratchet stated as he stepped into the living room. "I know you're not going to like it. But it looks like you are spending the night, and possibly part of tomorrow," He explained. "The rain is coming down far too hard, and there are some flash floods taking place. Reese believes it not to be worth risking your life by taking you anywhere tonight. Especially since he hasn't secured another foster home yet," He explained.

Dylan pulled the blanket further over his shoulders slightly. He looked a little funny, pulling the edges of the huge, Transformers-sized blanket as he looked up at Ratchet. "And he just trusted you to take care of me until he gets over here?" Dylan scoffed slightly. "Really?"

"He and my brother are close friends," Ratchet reminded him. "I've known Reese in passing for some time. He knows that I am a good mech, and you will be well taken care of," He paused a moment. "I warn you the human food I have for when I'm entertaining guests is a little bland. But there should be enough for cereal, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tomorrow," He explained.

Dylan didn't say anything, instead he turned away. He knew that the boy was worried about this whole situation, but hopefully, Ratchet could prove that to be just worries. "Well I guess I can't complain much," Dylan muttered finally, his eyes looking up at Ratchet's optics. "It sucks for you more I guess, I'm not exactly the poster child for house guests," He commented dully.

"I've had worse," Ratchet commented. "An ex-Decepticon friend of mine, Knock Out is by far the worst."

"Worse than a juvenile delinquent with trust issues?" Dylan asked. "I doubt it."

Ratchet smirked a little as he seated himself on a chair. He looked at the boy with a look of amusement, the boy might have gotten a kick out of this. Though he hoped it wouldn't encourage him to go and find Knock Out in any way. "Well Knock Out is just a delinquent," He laughed. "He's even worse than you. Prowl's always getting him for something or another, including but not limited to: street racing, and yes, tagging," He then added. "And he's a fully grown mech that should know better."

"Now that sounds like my kind of mech," Dylan told him. "So," He paused a moment. "Are you ever going to tell me why you care so much? Really, I'm sure you've had foster kids in your group before. Do you treat them all like this?" He asked.

Dylan was right, he had had foster kids in his group before. But as usual, Ratchet could not pinpoint why he felt the way he did about Dylan. Something about the boy had sparked his interest, and whatever it was, it wasn't letting him ignore it either. "Honestly, Dylan, I don't know. Yes, I have had three other foster kids in my group," He explained. "But they all had relatively nice placements, so in some ways it may be the way you were mistreated," He explained. "And in others, there is a feeling inside I cannot shake, and I do not understand."

Dylan hoped it wasn't the same feeling that his father had once felt. But if he knew Ratchet better, he would know that the medic would never feel such disturbing thoughts to a youngling. No, there was something very different to this feeling, a certain paternal-like feeling that Ratchet didn't yet understand. "That's weird," Dylan commented. "Maybe you're confusing yourself or whatever. But that doesn't sound normal," He added.

Ratchet's optic ridge furrowed, did Dylan not know by now that someone could care about a youngling that wasn't their own? Fifteen homes, he reminded himself, that was a clear indication that there was a good chance that Dylan probably had not learned that yet. "No, this is not a feeling to be worried about in such a way, Dylan," Ratchet explained. "It's unusual for me. But there's nothing wrong with me," He added.

Dylan shifted a bit, as Ratchet looked at him silently. He didn't know why he expected an answer to that, but none-the-less he cleared his "throat" to grab his attention again. "Would you like anything while we're sitting here, I'll put on the television, and you are welcome to watch," He then added. "But I don't know if you're still hungry," He added.

For his part, Dylan looked surprised when, again, Ratchet thought of him rather than his own needs. He shifted the blanket a little bit, thoughts swarming through his head. Maybe this mech wasn't going to hurt him after all, he thought. He wasn't ready to trust him yet, not completely, but Dylan was beginning to think he didn't have to constantly be on his guard with Ratchet. Maybe, at least until he saw a reason to, he could just accept the Autobot's help. It was the first time Dylan had found himself even slightly trusting someone in a long time, he realized. And of all things, he was trusting a giant robot.

"No," Dylan shook his head slightly. "I'm full really," He commented. "So Reese doesn't have a family yet, huh?" Ratchet shook his head in response. "Great, I'm probably going to a group home again. I wish I had kept my pocket knife from the last one," He grumbled.

Ratchet looked at the boy calmly at the mention of group homes. "You've been to those as well?"

"Yeah, three of them," Dylan replied. "Mostly in the interim between foster homes. Don't give me that look, either. I didn't lie," He explained. "I said it was fifteen foster homes. If I had told you I'd been moved around eighteen times total, you would never have made that deal with me. And I don't do juvie," He added flatly.

Ratchet rubbed his forehelm quietly, this boy had quite the story. And he had the feeling that there was also quite the history to go alongside it. What had he gone through since his father's abuse? He knew that other forms of abuse were undoubtedly a part of it if he was acting out. "Dylan, eighteen moves is a lot, but hardly something to scare me away," Ratchet told him. "When I was a youngling I was placed in five care centers, fifteen foster homes, and one juvenile detention center," He explained without thinking much of it.

Dylan looked at Ratchet with an expression of pure shock. "You were in a juvenile detention center?"

"What was the equivalent, at least. When I was young, I carried a chip on my shoulder as humans say," Ratchet explained. "My creators were cruel, vile people. Some nights they would beat me so senselessly that I didn't wake up for my education in the morning," Dylan's own eyes softened at that. "So when they abandoned Aid and I... Well, I didn't know how to act in a family unit. I picked all kinds of fights, and had one rule: to never trust anyone," He explained.

Dylan was silent for a long moment, what had changed Ratchet so much then? He seemed to still have a temper, that much couldn't be doubted. But why had he become so mellow, so kind? It didn't add up to Dylan. "What changed?" He asked.

Ratchet paused, he had told Dylan a bit about his past, so there was no going back now. "I was put at the juvenile detention center until I was eighteen vorns old," Ratchet began calmly. "I realized inside there the type of mech I could become. A terrible one, or a good one. And I decided that I was not, in any way, about to become the former, I wanted a better life for myself," He looked down at the boy calmly. "When I got out, I tried to make an honest living, but it was difficult," He explained.

His optics seemed to have a sadness in them, but his mouth was curved into a smile. "Then I met a mech called Siren. He gave me the chance to work as a clerical assistant in his hospital. And he became the sire figure I had always craved in my life," He explained. "What's more, he took me into his home, and treated me as a creation. He taught me everything he knew, and paid for my education as a medic at an academy. He offlined, unfortunately, before First Aid ever met him, since I lost track of him for some time. But lived long enough to see my graduation, and hire me in his hospital. He was a good mech, and to this day I credit him as my sire," He explained. "And all of this happened... Because I found it in myself to trust him, as he seemed to trust me."

Dylan stared at Ratchet in disbelief, stunned that anyone would do all of that. Ratchet had even, he supposed, been of age, which meant he hadn't had to invite him into his home. "So that's why you care," Dylan replied. "I remind you of well... You," He added.

Ratchet had never thought of it that way, but he supposed it was one of the reasons. Dylan did remind him of himself when he was a youngling, in ways that somewhat haunted him. They were both victims of abuse, both had trust issues, and both felt completely alone in the universe. "That you do," Ratchet admitted to him calmly. "I see much of myself in you, and like Aid... I don't want to see you grow up with the same anger I did," He then added. "You're a good youngling from what I've seen Dylan."

Dylan tried to stop a smile from forming on his face, though it partly did anyway. No one had called him a good kid, really. Most called him "trouble", "a pain in the ass", and other harsh words, but never that. He shifted slightly, resting moving his knees to rest under his chin, and wrapping his arms around his legs in deep thought. He wondered if he should say that he knew how Ratchet felt, that he had been abused as a kid by his father, and then again a few times by other foster families.

Why would he even consider saying that? This mech did not want his sob story, and frankly, he didn't like telling it anyway. He took a deep breath, and yawned quietly as Ratchet turned on the television at last. Likely, he got the idea that their discussion was done for the night. What was with that too? Not asking why he wouldn't talk about his own past? This mech was so weird, he thought, way weird.

Sure enough, they sat there, mostly in silence, and watching some sort of old movie on TV. He really didn't pay much mind to it, he didn't pay enough attention to stuff like this to mind whatever Ratchet put on. About the time that eleven o'clock rolled around, Dylan was fighting to keep his eyes open, his head rested against the couch. His eyes fell closed not long after, and Dylan wasn't sure just how long he was asleep then.

Or at least how long he was asleep before he felt a finger moving underneath his body. He could feel as the whole hand started to move gently, and that's when he acted. He jolted, and thrashed, scrambling across the couch, his voice came out in a shriek. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!" Dylan shouted. "You're just like him! You're just like him and you're going to do the same thing!" He looked at the bewildered looking Ratchet. "Well I won't do it, you hear me!? I've got a cell phone in my pocket! I'll call the cops!"

Ratchet could see the tears pouring out of the boy's fear filled eyes. And that was, above all else, the best proof of what he had researched yet. Thinking through his next move quietly, he moved a little closer. "Dylan, I would never touch you that way," Dylan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Youngling, you can sleep on the couch if you don't want to move. I'll bring you a soft pillow to sleep on and you can sleep right out here," The look on the boy's face was starting to change. "You don't need to go anywhere near where I'm recharging if that terrifies you," He added softly.

For a moment, they looked right at each other, neither daring to move. "You know about what happened to me, don't you?" Dylan asked, realization falling over his face. "No one ever considers that, because they don't know. I never tell anyone about it," He explained.

"I do," Ratchet told him honestly, and in a calm manner. "I had my suspicions since I witnessed how you acted with me. So I did some research, simply to know how to handle you better," He explained honestly, a gentleness to his voice now. "I swear to you, I only was picking you up to take you to my guest chambers. I have one meant for human friends that has a nice, soft bed. If you'll let me take you down from the couch, I'll show you the way," He commented.

Dylan moved closer to the corner, fear still in his eyes. Primus, Ratchet wanted so badly to meet the man that did this to the boy, he wanted to meet him and take away what gave him the very ability to bear a child. He was ready to do just that too, but for the moment, his main focus was on the boy in front of him. "Dylan, I promise you with all of my spark," He told him gently. "If you put even the smallest trust in me, I will not betray it. You can lock the door if you wish even, it cannot be open on the outside that way. Even I could not get in," He added.

Dylan sat there for a long moment, contemplating Ratchet's words. And for a moment, the medic was ready to give up on the idea of the child putting any trust in him. But just as he was pulling his hand off the couch, Dylan began to move, crawling carefully until he was in the palm of Ratchet's hand. The medic could hardly believe it, but Dylan had put even the smallest, faintest bit of trust in him, even for the moment it took to lower him onto the ground.

As Ratchet led him towards the guest room, he didn't even go inside. He simply stood there in the doorway in his holoform, and let Dylan step inside. "I'm right down the hall if you need anything, Dylan," He told him calmly. "Goodnight."

Dylan just stared up at the mech, bewildered. He gave no reply as he closed the human door, and the sound of the lock snapping into place could be heard. Ratchet had a feeling Dylan didn't know how to adequately respond to the fact he had gone out of his way to make him feel comfortable. To show him that he would never lay a hand on him in that way, to appease the mistake he had made.

Primus, he had to help this child.

...

He had the thought while he lay awake on his berth that night. He'd written it off earlier that day, but why couldn't he foster Dylan? He'd thought about fostering before, given his older age, though he'd always thought about fostering Cybertronian younglings, not human ones. And he did have the license, he'd completed the classes about six months ago, but had yet to open his home yet, as he hadn't been sure he was ready. After all, part of the reason he sought to foster or adopt was because of what he'd gone through, and that had been tough.

But why not foster this boy? Why couldn't he open his home to this young human who so desperately needed one? He had the resources, the help in the form of his brother, and furthermore, he had the spark. The spark with a place inside of it just big enough for a fourteen year old child like Dylan. While most people might have thought about it for a few weeks, or even a few months, Ratchet mulled over the thought for all of three hours before he quietly commed Reese.

The man was still awake, even at two in the morning. A sign that Ratchet took to mean that the man had still not secured a foster home for Dylan, and that made his processor go into overdrive. If he did this now, there really was no going back, not in the least. "Reese, have you secured a foster home for Dylan yet?" The answer came back in a long-winded version of someone saying "no". "If you look in your records, you will find I became licensed as a foster parent a few months ago. And I think I've decided... I'd like to give Dylan a home here," He commented.

There was a long, drawn-out silence over the other end. "Are you serious?" Was the reply that finally came out of Reese's mouth.

Ratchet thought it over for a long, hard moment. Before finally opening his mouth, and making his final decision: "Very."

...

A/N: And now, here's where things get interesting! I hope you guys are ready for the wild ride that is about to go down. :) Also, yes, despite Predacon's Rising never taking place, and Cybertron never being restored, Knock Out still joined the Autobots after Megatron's death. (which yes, also still happened) Just to clarify.