A/N: Thanks again to my awesome beta, TFPKOFANGIRL, for her work on this chapter yet again! You rock!

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CHAPTER 13
Complicated Feelings

Dylan was starting to become more and more calmed around the Autobots. Though he still did not fully trust any of them, they had at least not done anything toward him yet. He spent most of the time very close to Ratchet, who was continuing to do a better job than Dylan expected in introducing him, and keeping him comfortable. It was a fact that seemed to surprise his friends as well, who appeared not used to seeing Ratchet being so soft, or gentle towards anyone. But by the time things were slowly winding down for the night, Dylan could honestly say he had a good time, which surprised him.

At this point, Team Prime were really all that was left of the gathering. Others had to return to work, had other things, or even families to attend to. But Team Prime had seemingly cleared their schedules in order to take this moment, one they rarely had anymore, and regroup. Which left himself and of course, Shawn as the only humans there, as Scarlet had left when Ironhide had about an hour previously. Bulkhead had Shawn in his knee within the circle of Autobot-sized chairs they had now formed.

Dylan, less easily, had let Ratchet convince him to seat himself onto Ratchet's shoulder. And along with Shawn, he quietly listened in on the conversations the group had. The seven of them really got into the thick of their discussions now that they were alone, and he had to admit it was interesting. "Yeah, I know what you mean," His mind was pulled out of its thoughts as Arcee spoke up a little louder. "I think the 'Cons have been a little too quiet, myself. But I'm not complaining about the quiet," She was clearly talking to Magnus. "We've earned it by this point if you ask me."

Dylan paused a moment, Decepticons? Were there really even any of them left anymore? He'd heard rumors of course, but he'd been under the impression that most of them were gone or defected by now. "Decepticons are still around?" He asked as he shifted on Ratchet's shoulder. "I mean... I thought they were gone a few decades ago. And the Autobot army was around just in case?"

"That's both true and not," Bulkhead answered Dylan.

"The short answer," Ratchet explained. "Is that we have mostly driven the Decepticons away. Especially after Megatron was ended over a hundred years ago," Dylan nodded his head, following. "But they did not just take it lying down. Many of them are still out there. Which is why we do still have our army. We wage many battles, more than the government chooses to make public."

Dylan stiffened a bit, would this mean that at any time, Ratchet could be called to battle? After all, he was part of the most famous group the Autobot army had. If they had a crisis? Would he go out to battle? Possibly, to never come back? But it was Shawn, who seemingly noticed his worry, that spoke up. "You don't have to worry about if that happens though," He told him honestly. "Ratchet retired from the army a while ago. He's only a reserve now. He hasn't seen action in years. Right Ratch?"

Ratchet nodded, it was true, it had been years since he'd been out in the field. He'd liked it that way now that the war was mostly over. He wanted to get back to having a more steady life, and being the medic he had once been in Iacon. And now he had that wish, and hopefully was on his way to getting the next wish on his list: a family. "No, I haven't seen action in quite some time. And I prefer it that way in some ways," Ratchet explained. "I was always more of a medic than I was a fighter."

Dylan wondered just how true that was. He'd heard the story about how he and Wheeljack met, of course, and he'd seemed pretty competent then. So a part of him guessed, rather honestly, that Ratchet was being a bit humble about how important he had been in the war. But then again, Dylan still would rather not think about Ratchet going out into battle, not when he was seemingly one of the few people in the world who cared about him at all.

Though it was hard for him to admit, he was scared of losing Ratchet. Because no doubt if he was killed, all of the other Autobots would find they could care less about him too. He figured the only reason they were nice to him at all was because he was Ratchet's foster son. And the idea, however wrong it may have been in reality, made Dylan sad because he genuinely liked this, a part of him genuinely liked them.

What was wrong with him?

He'd always had one rule for himself in his homes: he didn't come to like ANYONE. He didn't stick around, or hang out long enough to let himself get that far. He didn't make friends with people. But here he was, smiling, laughing, enjoying himself. He rubbed his eyes slightly, trying to figure out what this meant, if it meant anything at all. He didn't know honestly, but it somewhat scared him.

Ratchet noticed the silence, and the tenseness that the boy seemed to have. Inside, he honestly wondered what was going through his mind, though he had a few ideas. "Well, hopefully you'll never have a reason to fight," He shook his head. "Maybe the Decepticons will disappear forever. Or, there will be a peace? I mean you guys have been fighting for centuries."

Bulkhead shook his head. "Not likely," He told him. "It'll probably be that way for centuries more."

"Way to be optimistic, Bulk," Arcee replied. "Scare the kid why dontcha?"

Bumblebee stood to his feet, shaking his head slightly. He held up an energon cube, and in a lighthearted voice spoke up. "I agree, let's stop acting so bleak!" Bumblebee commented. "Anyone want another high grade? Maybe we can pop on some old video feeds from our memory files. I bet the kids would enjoy that!"

But Dylan knew he would find it hard to enjoy much of anything else now that his thoughts had gone there. Though at this point, he tried to smile, and push the thoughts away as well. After all, it was like he said, he DID like these guys. And for now, at least, he could try to enjoy their company.

...

Dylan was only half-aware, in his tired state, of the fact that he was being held. The boy wanted to move, to fight in some ways, but he was so tired, only faintly aware of anything. And the arms holding him were so gentle, so soft, not offering him any abuse as he drifted in and out of sleep. If he could have looked into his foster son's head, Ratchet might have learned all these were thoughts running through it as he carried Dylan in his holoform's arms that night.

He might have woken him up had it been a shorter day, but he could easily tell how exhausted the boy now was. So instead, he shifted the fourteen year old slightly, which wasn't hard as his holoform was large, and Dylan himself a little small for his age. "I wish he were about Corey's age when you first got him," Ratchet commented as he and Optimus approached the front door of his home. "Kids are heavy as teenagers. It's straining the nanobots a bit," He chuckled.

"Indeed," Optimus chuckled slightly, opening the door for Ratchet to carry the young human inside. "You could have carried him in your true form," He added.

Ratchet shrugged, looking at his old friend quietly. "The higher up he is the more likely I am to startle him awake," The medic explained honestly. "I figure tucking him in with my human form will just make sense. Not that I'm an expert on the subject," He explained. "Either way I don't know what I'm doing entirely."

Optimus shook his head, putting his hand on Ratchet's shoulder. He noticed the mech was becoming more and more of a father just in the two days he had spent with him. With his worries, and his actions, it wouldn't be long before he had no idea who he was talking to. "You are becoming a father in spirit quite quickly," Optimus chuckled. "Maybe your feeling of "love" has not come too soon after all."

Ratchet let that thought swarm through his processor as he entered Dylan's bedroom, and settled him onto his bed. He was careful to tuck the sheet and blankets over Dylan slowly, not wanting to disturb his rest. And slowly, he began to stroke the boy's hair, gently, tenderly. For a moment, he found himself leaning over, to just leave a kiss on his forehead like other parents may have after doing this.

But he pulled back, feeling himself moving too fast. Optimus may have been right about how he was beginning to feel about Dylan, but he knew if that was the case, Dylan didn't reciprocate yet. As much as he wanted to give this boy the affection that he felt for him, he knew that it would have to be slow. He hated that was the case, he'd always imagined, when he thought of younglings, that they'd be the one type of creature he could smother. But Dylan, of course, had other issues to work out.

So he let his holoform disappear from the room, and turned to Optimus for an answer. "I think so, too," Ratchet told him. "Which is what makes this so hard. I want to give him that feeling he's never had. But it feels like I only make the smallest breakthroughs with him," He explained. "I hugged him this morning, and I feel like it helped a little."

"Again, affection will help," Optimus explained.

"Of course," Ratchet nodded. "But I also know I have to be deliberate in it. Show what he's comfortable with, when I know it won't trigger something," Optimus nodded his head slowly. "It's all giving me a processor-ache," He groaned slightly.

Optimus looked at Ratchet quietly, he nodded his head in understanding. Ratchet moaned to himself, he wished that people would stop doing that like it helped. "When you take a child from the foster care system, it's never easy," He told him honestly. "It's hard in the beginning, but it does get better. Just remember my advice," He added. "Hugs are a good start, after all."

Hugs were a start, he supposed that was true. But he could only hope that Dylan hadn't secretly acted upset over it earlier in that respect. He rubbed his optics slightly, frustration in there again. "At least tell me this gets easier," He told the Prime. "That there really is some sort of silver lining at the end of this."

Optimus nodded his head, it was what everyone had to hear. Though he wished that it was true with all children, that they all ended up okay, he knew he couldn't really say "of course". Some children didn't find that silver lining in their lives, some fell to drugs, alcohol, anything to numb the pain. Some pushed everyone away, even those that loved them. But something told him Dylan would have none of these things happen to him, or at least he hoped.

"You can only be optimistic on the matter of the future," Optimus told him gently. "Dylan's own fate will be decided on his own. But he has a strong, loving, and kind mech looking after him," Ratchet lowered his head slightly. "If he is as reasonable as he appears to be. I believe there will be just that," He added.

Ratchet hoped beyond hope that Optimus was being sound with his reasoning. He wanted to believe that he, and Dylan, would eventually be a family. He wanted to be the person that this boy was able to trust, to look at not as someone who was just taking care of him, but as a father. Something told the mech that this boy had not just been thrown in his way for no reason, they had come across each other because Dylan needed him. And Ratchet needed Dylan too, to make him a parent, and to make him happy.

Because Primus knew if there was one thing Dylan's presence had done, it was make him happy.

"I hope so," Ratchet finally told his old friend with all honesty. "If not, then Primus is being cruel. Putting someone I can't help in my path," He added with a hint of annoyance and anger. "Why would he give me that kind of grief? It makes no sense."

Optimus knew that in itself was a good question, at least if Dylan didn't end up okay. But rather than comment that, he again placed a hand on his back, rubbing it. The mech needed some reassurance, a gentle push to keep going despite the innate fear it would be for nothing. "I am certain Dylan was put here so that you can save him," He explained. "But perhaps, you should get some rest. It has been a long day for all of us," He added.

Ratchet let out a frustrated sigh, but nodded. Indeed, it had been a long, but good day for all of them. And perhaps he was simply worrying for nothing as again, it had been handled well. Dylan had gotten along with the others to the best of his ability, after all. "You're right," Ratchet muttered. "Maybe I'm overthinking it. I've tended to do that more with Dylan than I have with anyone else."

"That is what having children is like," Optimus told him honestly. "They, and their feelings become the center of your world."

As Ratchet moved towards his berth room, he knew he could not, and would not even try to, argue with that.

...

That night, when Dylan's guttural screams filled the home, Ratchet paused in front of his door. What did he do? What did he say? The hug had changed things a bit today, as he'd said for a while now. But it most effected this. How did someone comfort their child while they had nightmares with affection? So when his holoform appeared inside the room, and he saw the boy thrashing, he looked at him thoughtfully.

It was awkward at first, trying to take Dylan into his palm. He was careful, gentle, and working hard to make sure that he didn't wake Dylan up, not yet, at least. Instead, he brought Dylan up close, and did what he'd seen some caretakers and creators do with their sparklings. He brought Dylan close to his spark, where he could hear the calming hum of his spark as he seated himself down, running two gentle fingers along his spine.

To his surprise, he could already feel as Dylan's thrashing was slowly stopping. His screams dying down a little, though not much. "Shhhhhh Dylan," Ratchet whispered quietly, his voice softer than anyone but First Aid had ever heard it. "It's alright, sofspark. I'm right here, Ratchet's here," He cooed. "No one's ever going to hurt you again."

Dylan's thrashing slowly died down, and his screams, became soft whimpers. Maybe Dylan couldn't hear him, but no doubt he could feel him. And the fact that the boy wasn't fighting the gentle hold, well, that was a miracle in and of itself. Eventually his eyes shot open, and Dylan looked up at him, shifting a little bit, fear in his eyes. "Easy," Ratchet told him. "You were having a nightmare. I was just trying to help... If you want me to put you back in bed, I will."

Dylan ran a hand along his arm, staring back up at Ratchet nervously. He wasn't sure how to respond, and that much was obvious. A part of him looked like he was enjoying this, between the gentle hum of the mech's spark and the gentle rubbing of his back. But another wondered what he planned to do; whether or not this was really just an attempt to comfort him.

And then, he slowly leaned his head against his plating. Perhaps only for the moment, he chose to trust that Ratchet wouldn't hurt him, but only then. "Are you going to drag it out of me?" Dylan asked, clearly showing how he had been bothered by the shirt incident. "Because at least give me warning if you're doing it because of that."

Ratchet guessed that he did deserve that. After all, the hug, and this were both so out of the blue, no doubt he might think it was another way of forcing the past out of him. But he didn't want Dylan to feel that way about him, always wondering that way. "I made a mistake," Ratchet explained quietly. "But I don't ever intend to make it again, Dylan. I promise," He explained. "I'm here if you need me... And until you're ready to try sleeping again," He then paused. "We can even sit here in silence if you want."

"We can just sit here?" Dylan asked. "Are you for real?"

"If you don't want me here, I'll leave," Ratchet told him. "I don't want to do this if you think I have my own intents at spark. I only do this because I don't like to hear you screaming at night," He said. "I do this because I want you to feel safe, cared for, and protected in my home."

Dylan looked at Ratchet, and looked for a hint that he was lying. But slowly, surely, it hit him that the mech was being genuine, or he was good at hiding it in his optics. "Do I have to do something?" The boy rasped. "Because of this? Is that what you want instead?"

Ratchet tried to hide the fact that he was close to leaking from his optics. Why did this boy have to perceive such a gentle, affectionate gesture in such a way? He wanted to kill his father for teaching him that love, or any type of affection, was simply the means to gaining pleasure in such a way. "Dylan," Ratchet told him gently. "I promise you, with all my spark... I will never, ever ask you for those kinds of "favors"," He was firm in a way that made Dylan's eyes fill with confusion. "I swear on my life, no one will EVER ask for that again... Here, everything I do is out of genuine... Fondness," He decided on the term, rather than scare him.

Dylan felt confusion in every pore of his body. Was this the "love" other families talked about? Or at least the very small stages of true "affection"? Was Ratchet reaching out to show him what he had often contemplated? That actions like these DIDN'T lead to other things? He didn't know what to think as he listened to the humming of the spark inside the chamber. He wanted to trust Ratchet when he did things like this, stuff like this made him want to get closer to him.

Stuff like this made him want to forget the moment he lifted his shirt. In fact, times like this were the only reason he hadn't walked off by now. Those real, genuine-feeling moments where Ratchet made him feel like he mattered. For the first time in his life, he mattered to someone. "I really hope..." Dylan managed. "I can trust you the way you're making me want to."

Ratchet paused, knowing that it was an honest statement. But instead of directly answering his foster son, he gently rubbed his back. "Go to sleep, Dylan," He whispered. "I'm right here."

And for some reason, or another, Dylan made the choice to trust his gut. To let his eyes grow heavier, until they gently closed, and he drifted off to sleep. For the first time, able to put his faith in someone to watch over him for the night. And watch over him, Ratchet would.