A/N: Thanks again to my amazing beta, TFPKOFANGIRL, for her work on this chapter! :D

...

CHAPTER 14
Emotions

Dylan had decided to keep his head low, because he knew Ratchet was going to let him have it. He'd done a good job to keep himself out of fights, at least up until now. But now he'd done it, especially as he'd really let the other kid have it, admittedly. Not that that the snot nosed brat didn't deserve it, he figured. He'd been pulling at his last nerve for the last several weeks and he didn't want to deal with it. Especially not on a day that he was supposed to be going to see the new therapist that Ratchet had had recommended to him.

But of course, he knew Ratchet would have none of it. Especially as he saw the form of the very unhappy looking mech coming down the hallway. Dylan tried to wipe the triumphant grin off his face, but he knew Ratchet had already seen it just by the way he looked at him. "You my young friend are in a wold of trouble," Dylan frowned slightly, sinking lower into his seat. "Fighting? Really? Of all the things you do I thought that would never be a problem with someone like you."

"That jerk deserved it!" Dylan told him bluntly. "I didn't do it for fun. I did it to get him off my back."

Ratchet gave him a look that said that he was shocked by the statement. He groaned, hanging his head a little. He didn't like seeing Ratchet so disappointed, it was even worse than he imagined. "Dylan, I am so disappointed in that attitude," Ratchet told him, a sigh escaping his vents. "You're better than that. I know it, and you know it."

Dylan tried to hide his sadness, but he knew he wasn't doing a good job. He had been about to reply when the door to the principal's office opened. The older woman that stepped out looked none-too-happy either, but Dylan guessed it was a given, most high school principal's were like that. "You must be Dylan's foster parent," She spoke up, looking at Ratchet. "Good to meet you, though the circumstances aren't very good."

Dylan stood, and strode to the principal's office, which was Ratchet's first indication something was wrong. The boy did a lot of things, but he rarely, if ever, stormed off. It was right up there with fighting when it came to a surprise action for him to act like. Dylan was quiet, but he was, for the most part, not openly defiant. "I'm sorry about this, m'am," Ratchet told her. "I don't even know what's come over him. Outside of one incident of running away, he never acts this way at home."

"I know exactly what you mean. Call me Principal Lee, by the way."

"Ratchet." He simply replied.

She paused a moment, shaking her head. "Dylan has always been so quiet. I can't think of a problem any of his teachers have had other than the fact he is very solitary. And has to be pushed to work with others, or accept a teacher's help," Ratchet nodded slowly. "So when I heard he'd been in for fighting I was shocked."

Ratchet sighed, so this wasn't typical behavior here then either. What was wrong? He had a few ideas, but he wasn't totally sure as they entered the office, he, using his holoform to better be on level with the principal. He took a seat beside Dylan, deciding first to listen to what the Principal had to say. "Alright then, let's start with what you know about what happened," He told her.

"What, I don't even get to tell my side?" Dylan asked haughty.

"You'll get to say your piece. But I want to hear an impartial third party point-of-view first."

Lee looked at him, then at Dylan, who was looking more and more nervous. "Well first of all, I believe the other boy, Bradley, has been giving Dylan trouble. And a lot of it," She said honestly. "Shawn Miller and Scarlet Hide both made sure I knew that. Apparently he overheard a conversation between Scarlet and Dylan... Something about his past."

"Oh Primus," Ratchet muttered. "Please tell me he didn't-."

"He did," Dylan replied. "And he told his buddies about it too."

Lee looked at Ratchet, who now looked mortified. It was no wonder Dylan had beat the boy, frankly, he wanted to do the same thing. This was no one's business but that of Dylan, and those he chose to share it with. But now, Dylan's secret was probably swarming through the halls of his high school right now. "The point is. After a few boys jeered at him for it. Dylan apparently tackled Bradley to the ground and began to beat him," She explained. "Bradley, of course, is in serious trouble, I can assure you of that."

"He'd better be," Ratchet told her. "What Dylan did to him will heal. But what that brat did to Dylan, that most certainly cannot be taken back."

Dylan looked up at Ratchet. He was on his side about this? He didn't understand, he had fought this boy. He'd beaten the crap out of him, and Ratchet was still concerned about what Bradley had done? "Though I assure you, Principal Lee. This is not something I will be writing off," Ratchet explained. "There are better ways to handle the situation. And violence is not acceptable," He stated, looking at Dylan firmly. "It won't be happening again."

Dylan wasn't sure why Ratchet was looking at him for so long. But after a moment, he got the idea, mouthing "really?". Of course, Ratchet's look didn't waver. "It won't happen again, Principal Lee, I promise," Dylan said, though feeling begrudging.

Lee leaned in to look at Dylan, who barely raised his eyes to look at her. "Dylan, I'm very sorry this happened. No one deserves to have something so personal come out like that," The boy nodded his head a little bit. "I assure you we take bullying, of any kind, very seriously. And while you are going to serve a few days detention, Bradley will be serving suspension, and several weeks detention. Especially given this is far from a first offense."

"Dylan won't be suspended?" Ratchet asked.

Lee shook her head, she looked at Dylan quietly. "No, as this is a first offense, I'll let him off with four day's detention. Starting tomorrow," She explained. "The next time he decides to throw a punch though? You can bet he will be, we have a zero-tolerance policy on fighting," She explained. "Do you understand me, Mr. Logan?"

"Yeah," Dylan slouched a bit. "It didn't make me feel much better anyway. So it's whatever."

Dylan blanked out the rest of the talk that they had, not really interested. He was feeling too sick to his stomach about it all anyway, quite frankly.

...

Waiting for Ratchet to return to his office after a surgery felt like a never ending cycle of fear. Dylan wasn't sure what Ratchet was going to say, not entirely anyway. He'd had a lot of bad experiences with anger and parental figures, honestly. So he sat in the cafeteria, eating the lunch he'd ordered when he noticed that First Aid was entering the room. He hadn't had much talks with his new "uncle" since the first day that they spent time together. Mostly because Ratchet had wanted him to settle in, so he shifted somewhat uncomfortably as he approached.

Of course, as a result, the first thing he did was stride over to him. His blue optics looking at him with curiosity as he seated himself down with an energon cube in his hand. "Primus, you sure got Ratchet all riled up. What's this I hear? You had a fight at school?"

Dylan was silent for a moment, before staring up at the mech. He wasn't sure how to respond, though he got the feeling the interest was genuine at least. Reminding himself that First Aid, according to Ratchet, did not do anything "halfway" and took family seriously. "Yeah, I had a fight with a snot-nosed, snobby little jerk," Dylan replied, his eyes moving away. "He found out about my dad and was spreading it around school... If you ask me, he had it coming."

First Aid raised his optic ridges, filled with a bit of anger at this. He definitely understood why his brother was so angry, considering he saw Dylan as his nephew. The thought of some kid tormenting him over something so personal... "What a little brat," He commented. "You okay? Need to talk about it?"

Dylan looked up at the mech, surprised. "Talk about it? You're busy, aren't you?"

First Aid scooted forward a bit, crossing his arms and smiling. This boy really did have a lot to learn about what living with a family was like. "Dylan, whether you've accepted it or not... You're my nephew," Dylan looked like he hadn't expected that response at all. "I know we've both been a bit nervous to approach each other. And I'm sorry, I'll try to do better there," He stated. "But you also should know I'm here to listen if you need me."

Dylan really didn't know how to respond to that either. First Aid wanted a better relationship than this? He considered him his nephew? He shifted a bit, and hung his head, wondering if he should trust this. "You don't have to if you don't want either. I just figured you needed someone to talk to who isn't Ratchet," He explained. "At least until he's calmed down..."

"... It just sucked," Dylan finally spoke, his voice quiet and sad. "In Jasper I had a fresh start. No one knew me, or what happened. Other than you, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Scarlet. And the next thing I know Shawn is asking me if it's true," He felt tears sting his eyes as he tried to blink them out. "That guy hates me and I don't know why... Bradley I mean. And he did this just to hurt me and it sucks."

First Aid nodded, though he looked at him calmly. "You know, a lot of kids who bully at school... Are bullied at home," He explained. "Maybe he's jealous because he's seen how happy you are lately. He wanted to know why you had been through hell, but weren't a miserable little twit like him. And he saw a chance to make you like him, and took it," Dylan was silent, he actually never thought of it like that. "It's a stupid reason, I know. But it happens more than you think."

Dylan shook his head, understanding a bit. "What does he have to be jealous of? He's rich, we all know it."

"Well, you have a father that's crazy about you. Even if he is angry at the moment, that hasn't changed," First Aid explained. "You've got a whole support group that's enjoying getting to know you. An uncle that wants to be a big part of your life," He then added. "You have someone there at home to spend time with you, talk to you, help with your homework. You're never hungry anymore, or lonely, I take it."

Dylan took all of that in, despite the no use of "foster" before father or uncle it was very true. Despite all his sadness right now, he did have a lot of things making his life better. "He's crazy about me, huh?" He asked honestly.

"You kidding? You think he's only raging about you fighting the kid?" First Aid asked, Dylan nodded. "Oh no, he was ready to tear the kid's head off. He just wouldn't tell me why, he was too angry," Dylan's stomach tightened, completely in disbelief that was the case. "He's angry at "Bradley", far, far, FAR more than at your actions."

So he was as angry as he looked in the office. Dylan took a deep breath, relieved at the thought of it. Ratchet probably was just being a parent in this situation, seeing both sides of things. He looked at First Aid quietly, and nodded his head. "Well, I guess I just never really thought about it. I mean he's been being more... Affectionate lately," Dylan replied. "He's starting to treat me like I've seen others treat their kids."

"That's the way you should be treated, Dylan," First Aid told him. "I know you don't understand that yet. Not after what you've gone through," He explained. "But love, real love an affection makes you feel good. Not hurt, or violated, or sad," He then explained. "Even if it's tough love like Ratchet's giving you now."

Love? Ratchet was showing him love? Dylan paused a moment, he didn't know what to think of that, at all. Was he even worth loving like that? He'd been told so often in his life, from different abusive families, about how worthless he was. How he could never, and would never understand what this thing people called "real love" was, because no one could ever love him. But was Ratchet coming to do just that? Coming to love him?

The sound of a whistle got his attention, noticing that Ratchet was in the doorway. Dylan swallowed, but looked back at First Aid. The mech nodded his head at him. "It'll be alright. Remember, nothing you do, or did, during that would make him kick you out if you're afraid of that," Then added. "Might as well get the lecture over with, right?"

It took Dylan a minute but he finally nodded. "Thanks First Aid," He began. "This conversation has been... Eye opening."

"Of course," First Aid nodded. "I'm here whenever you need to talk."

Dylan had a feeling he wouldn't doubt that anymore.

...

It turned out that Ratchet didn't want to have the conversation yet. Rather, in the conversation with First Aid, Dylan had nearly forgotten this chat with Dr. Brink he had to have. So there he was, about twenty minutes after his talk with his "uncle" and sitting in front of a desk across from a man in his forties. He looked friendly enough, but at the same time, Dylan did avoid quite a bit of eye contact. Instead, he kept his eyes lowered to the ground, away from the soft green eyes that looked at him.

"You know we can do this all day," He heard the man speak up, causing Dylan's head to shoot up. "I've had kids who have spent session after session sitting there silently. Heck, you had the decency to say "hi" to me which is already a step above most of my first sessions," Dylan chewed his lip absently. "But it's okay, if you don't want me to ask questions... Or talk really, that's okay. I can wait until you're ready."

Dylan grimaced slightly, what did this guy actually know? Had he ever even known what it was like? To be tortured, to go through severe pain, to be used in ways that were unspeakable. "I can tell you a little bit about my experience first, if you'd like," Dylan looked at him suspiciously. "I was... Actually about your age when I was taken away too. I had a mom and dad, but my mom was sick," He explained, a frown on his face. "She started abusing me in "that" way early on. And it got so bad that, eventually, my dad left her with me... He couldn't take it."

"Your dad ran out on you?" Dylan gaped. "And left you with...?"

"Yeah, pretty awful right? He was young, and he was selfish," Brink explained, he chewed his lip. "My mom continued worse after that. For her, I was a substitute because I looked so much like him," He then explained. "Then when I was five, I finally got the courage to tell my uncle. After that, he and his wife took me in and raised me as their own. And now.. I try to help kids like myself to overcome the same things I went through."

A substitution, Dylan shifted uncomfortably. That was an all too familiar word that struck a chord with Dylan. Probably because his father had used to describe him more than a few times. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," Dylan told him. "Not when you use that word."

"Why? Did Eugene use that word to describe you?"

"Stop."

"Because you weren't a replacement, Dylan. You were a child, you are a child," Brink explained to him. "Calling you a replacement was his way of justifying the vile things he did to you," Dylan still didn't look back at up at the doctor. "The sooner you realize that, the better."

Dylan gripped his pant legs slightly, it was really hard to believe that. After all, it was his fault his mom was dead. His "father" had always told him how she'd died giving birth to him. It had been his fault, it had always been his fault. Even now, that voice continued to ring through his brain as he held the sides of his head. He trembled slightly, trying to calm himself but finding it increasingly harder. "Dylan. Dylan?" He heard a voice poke out of his haze.

"It's your fault I do this, you little shit!"

"If Jane was alive, I would NEVER need to resort to this."

"You're worthless... WORTHLESS!"

Dylan could hear himself whimpering but he just continued to shake, trying to get himself out of the episode. But he couldn't, that word had triggered it and now... "DYLAN!" He heard a scream. "It's alright, Dylan, come back here, come back to us," He felt a gentle shake.

Finally, Ratchet, who Brink had called in as soon as the trigger word had started an episode, was able to bring him out of it. But Dylan had already had enough, he got to his feet, storming out of the room as Ratchet's holoform watched. "What the pit happened!?" Ratchet asked haughtily. "I brought him here for your help! Not to traumatize him."

Brink looked at Ratchet with a look of pure exhaustion. "I'm afraid Dylan's case is a little more serious than I thought. I can't, legally, tell you why. But the fact such a word triggered that bad of a shutdown..." Brink rubbed the bridge of his nose slightly. "Dylan's trauma from the abuse, sexual and otherwise, clearly runs very deep. And I'm afraid that though it was extreme, this reaction gave me a good idea of where I need to start with him."

Ratchet grunted, though his face turned up into more of a scowl. "You think I'm bringing him back to you after THAT!?"

"Ratchet, I'm afraid if I can't get to him. There are very few people who can," Those words hit Ratchet hard, honestly. "At least not in this city. In other cities, maybe, my own psychiatrist is in Philadelphia," The mech's eyes softened. "But I know exactly what Dylan is going through. Years ago, I was Dylan. And it took me a long time to open up, the fact he has with you even in small ways already astounds me."

Ratchet's eyes softened, his real form peering at the young human that had stopped to sit in a chair. Brink leaned forward quietly, his eyes meeting Ratchet's own. "Dylan needs help. Help from someone who can put themselves in his shoes and not just try to," Ratchet paused, he leaned back slowly. "I can help him, I know I can. But I won't be able to unless he comes to me... I'd say probably bi-weekly. Whether he wants to or not, I can put him through the same rigorous therapy I went through."

Ratchet was silent, looking at Brink. For some reason, he trusted this man at his word. Maybe it was the way he spoke, or the way he carried himself. But either way, this was the first psychiatrist that Dylan had seen that didn't seem to find Dylan's attitude a turn-off. And by far, the first to seem like they were really keen on helping Dylan. He needed that, he needed to know that whoever he was hiring would help Dylan, and treat him with the same softness that he did.

They stood there for a long moment before Ratchet spoke again. "I just want to know," Ratchet began. "That you're sure you can, and want, to help him."

"I do," Brink nodded his head. "Same as I want to help every child that comes through this door. It hurts me to see anyone go through what I did in my childhood. Lucky for Dylan, like me, he has someone in his life who cares enough to get him help," He then explained. "You've already taken the first step to helping him recover," He explained. "Now let me try to help him along."

Ratchet looked at the man, then sighed. He knew that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, and if things only got worse with Dylan, he could always go elsewhere. "Alright, so where do I go to make another session," He sighed quietly.

...

"I can't have you fighting like that, Dylan."

Dylan was on the bed in his room, halfway through "Of Mice and Men", when Ratchet came in that night to talk to him. He sighed, he guessed that Ratchet had to come and talk to him eventually. He looked up at his foster father quietly. "He deserved it, we both know that," He told him bluntly. "Can't we just leave it at that?"

Ratchet gave the boy a look, taking two fingers and plucking the book from his hands. "That is not going to happen," Ratchet replied with a grunt. "No son of mine is going to go around picking fights. No matter what that pit spawn did to you," He explained. "You cannot go around answering your problems with your fists."

Dylan rolled his eyes, there was the "s" word again. And this time, Ratchet hung it over his head like he had something to live up to. He turned over on his side, but to no avail as Ratchet moved around the bed to look at him. "Alright, I get it, I screwed up. But what's the big deal? Plenty of adult men in my life settled things with fists," He added, sitting up on his bed. "My dad, a few of my foster dads..."

"Yeah, and where did that get them?" Dylan went silent at that. "And why do I feel like most of those fists your father threw were at you?"

Dylan felt his fists clench, but tried to regain control. Unfortunately, he didn't quite succeed, standing to his feet. He looked at Ratchet with frustration. "What do you care!? Seriously, you're the one that throws wrenches. Are you any better?" Dylan asked in frustration. "Stop acting like any of this matters to you!"

"It matters because I don't want you to grow up angry like I did," Ratchet countered.

Dylan gritted his teeth slightly, now he was getting frustrated. He rubbed the temples of his forehead. "Stop, you can just stop. You don't have to parent me about every little thing!" Dylan shouted. "Quit pretending like the stuff I do actually bothers you. Getting Fist Aid to give me that talk was a nice touch. But you're overdoing it. No one cares this much about a foster kid, literally, no one."

"I didn't make First Aid do anything," Ratchet replied, making Dylan's eyes widen. "That was all him, because he cares. And for that matter," He began pointing at him. "Dylan, I DO care. And this matters to me because I love you."

Those words hung in the air, making Dylan freeze where he was standing. Those were three words Dylan had never heard in his life. Every time a parent associated love with him, it was in a negative context. "This is how all parents love their children." was the most frequent that his father had used. But those three words, said in a way he'd heard, and been confused by so many times around other families... Families that had always had some other definition of "love" he'd never found before.

Dylan tried to bring out his thoughts, but found himself stammering. "Excuse me?" He finally managed.

"I lecture you... I do all of these things for you. Because I love you, Dylan," Ratchet replied. "I don't expect to be told that in return. But I'm tired of beating around the bush with myself, and with you. You're like a sparkling to me, and Primus knows I want to do right by you," He explained. "Everything I do is because I love you, Dylan, and I want to see you grow up into a strong young man. Not angry at the world, or violent. But someone you can be proud of too."

Dylan took a few steps backward, he tried in vain to completely absorb his words. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a warm sensation in his heart. A happiness, unlike anything he'd felt after that first time Ratchet had hugged him. They stood there for what felt like hours with a deep silence between them. "Alright," Dylan paused for a moment. "I'll uh... I'll try to stop fighting if it means that much to you."

"You will stop fighting."

Dylan nodded his head slowly, taking a deep, inward breath. "Alright, I... It won't happen again."

Ratchet got the feeling that was all that Dylan could find within his mind to say. Perhaps it was the shock, perhaps it was the confusion. But either way, he decided to take it, and nodded his head slowly. "That's better," There was a silence again. "Dylan..."

"Can I uh, be alone for a bit?" Dylan asked. "I think I kinda need that."

Ratchet only nodded his head, turning to exit the room. "Alright then," Ratchet replied. "Dinner will be ready soon."

As Ratchet left, Dylan could only stand there silently with himself. He could only wonder, silently, whether it was true or not. Even if in his spark, Ratchet knew he had said the right thing.