A/N: Woo, it has been a long time since I've updated! Long story short, I got a puppy! I named him Sideswipe and he is the light of my life. But for the first week or so, things were crazy, so I've been spending as much time as I could adjusting both his and my lives to the new situation. But hopefully, updates should be coming more often now!

Thanks again to sidekicks-anonymous for their awesome job betaing my work as usual! :D

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CHAPTER 23
Indecision

"I don't understand why I need a new doctor at all."

"Because I should have done this a while ago. I thought I could handle your medical needs, but let's face it, I was worried beyond words after a skateboarding accident. Imagine if you needed real surgery, or your life was on the line. It's better I find someone unbiased to handle your medical needs." Ratchet explained.

Dylan shuddered at the thought of some strange man, or woman, touching his body. He didn't like the idea at all; it made him feel uncomfortable and violated. He had had enough of a hard time trying to get used to Ratchet doing so, after all. But they'd still tried several different people. They'd all not seemed to understand, or even tried to understand, his aversion and fear. He felt the pang of intense fear at trying a fifth person not in his immediate family, but still.

"And why would this guy be any different?" Dylan countered.

Ratchet looked quietly at his son for a moment. He knew that the boy was worried, but he also knew he could trust this mech. Though Knock Out had been a Decepticon, he had changed greatly. He'd become a very well-respected doctor. "Because I know him very well. He may have been a bit... Different during the war. But he has grown well since then and worked his way into a very high position. He's a little eccentric, but I truly believe he will be good for you."

"By different, I take it you mean a Decepticon?"

Ratchet paused a moment, looking down at him. "Okay, yes, that would be the case. But he has long since discarded such actions."

"But he was a Decepticon." Dylan shuddered.

"Dylan, I would never let him touch you if I thought he was dangerous. At least anymore."

Dylan put his hands in his pockets, then looked up at the office door. He knew that was the truth, honestly. But at the same time, he still couldn't help but feel a bit of fear. "You promise, right? I trust you, Dad. But I don't want you to break that trust or anything..."

Ratchet paused a moment, knowing exactly what Dylan was saying. But he also knew that Knock Out wouldn't ever do anything to hurt a child. He'd become a father in the time since the Great War after all; with a femme that Ratchet regrettably had never met since they had a mostly professional relationship. "Yes, I'm sure. And if not we can get right out of there. I promise. Just because I know him well does not mean I owe him any favors."

Dylan sighed quietly, his eyes focused on the door with a stark silence. He nodded his head as his only way of communicating that he understood as Ratchet opened the door. Of course Knock Out wasn't inside yet, they still had to wait for him. The boy carefully got onto the human berth as Ratchet seated himself down, impatiently eyeing the office door.

Ratchet kept an eye on his son, worried he may try to run. Again, that pang of guilt for having to do this appeared in the back of his processor. He wanted to be Dylan's doctor, he really did, but he also knew this was for the best. Especially now that they were legally father and son. He knew that their close legal and emotional bond would cloud his judgement in times of great peril and they could not have that.

Finally, the quiet click of the door got his attention. Knock Out hadn't changed much in the past hundred years, aside from his face maturing, and his frame becoming bulkier. The mech still carried himself well, and his deep crimson coat was still quite the envious paint job. His red optics immediately turned to acknowledge Ratchet with a curt nod. "Ratchet, it's good to see you. Though I must admit, I'm a little surprised you called on me for this job." He spoke calmly.

"No." Dylan breathed, grabbing both mech's attention. "You're not seriously going to let him touch me, are you?"

Ratchet cocked an optic ridge but noticed the main source of Dylan's intimidation. Ratchet paused a moment, he hadn't thought this through. The claws he had for hands would scare anyone that had been on the other end of a weapon. And he knew for a fact that Dylan had been, more than once, more than twice. He'd told him in some of their talks on the matter that his father had used or threatened, among other things, a belt or a knife on him before.

"What the pit is that supposed to mean?" Knock Out immediately shot back.

"It means you're not putting those claws on me." Dylan told him, with a tone to match the mech's own.

Knock Out looked a little surprised for a moment, looking down at his claws. Was this kid serious? His optics looked over at Ratchet, who was at a loss for words.

"Dylan, apologize to Knock Out right now. Many mechs and femmes were born with appendages you'd call 'claws,' and while I did not completely think this through that, is no excuse for such a rude comment."

Dylan remained silent, shooting Ratchet a "are you kidding me?" look. Knock Out tilted his head a moment, before motioning Ratchet back out the door. Sure enough, Ratchet followed him outside as the former Decepticon closed the door.

"Alright," Knockout said seriously. "I feel like you haven't disclosed some things about the kid to me. I don't read the news but a few of my colleagues already seemed to imply that. So you want to tell me what his malfunction is?"

Ratchet sighed. He should have known that this was coming. Yet he felt a bit of guilt, knowing that Knock Out might not have read his file yet. "It's not a malfunction. Before Dylan came to me, he was a foster child, like I said... He was abused horrifically in a sexual, physical, and verbal manner by his biological father. He's simply scared of you and putting up one of his many guards as a result."

"Excuse me, did I just hear you correctly? He was..."

"Yes, you heard me correctly. I hadn't thought about it before... He's very sensitive about anyone putting their hands on his body, understandably. And your claws, while nothing to worry about for most... Well, it clearly makes him uneasy." Ratchet explained. "I'm sorry to waste your time, Knock Out. I had just hoped someone I knew personally would make him more comfortable."

Knock Out looked at the medic, then back towards the door silently. His optics seemed to be filled with a softness that Ratchet hadn't seen. Though he quickly returned to his normal, gruff looking expression before long. "You're not wasting my time, I'll work with him still. I may be new to having a youngling, but I do have other youngling patients too. I've learned to work around my more intimidating features." He put his hands on his hips. "You're telling me that youngling went through all of that though? He couldn't be older than sixteen."

"He turns fifteen next month." Ratchet explained. "And sadly, it's true. He's seeing a therapist frequently, and he's helping. But he still has trust issues, and I'm not sure those are going to go away."

Knock Out grimaced slightly, trying to keep his temper under control, Ratchet figured. Sure, he had been a Decepticon; and sure, he had been no saint in life. But Knock Out had proven himself capable of change. He'd turned himself around and reformed from being that way. And no doubt, having a kid had softened him in many ways. "Well then, we haven't got all day. Let me go and try an alternative method to my madness."

Ratchet tried to speak, but within moments, Knock Out was making his way back into the office. Dylan's eyes looked up defiantly at the medic, trying to stand his ground. "Alright, kid. I understand why you don't trust me, so you have one of two choices. And like it or not, you're going to take one of them. Because I don't have time for the two of you to get into a shouting match." Knock Out commented. "So you can either let me touch you with my "claws" as you so aptly put them. And if I so much as scrape you, Ratchet has the right to kick my aft for you..."

Knock Out didn't seem to keen on that option. But he also knew it might work, he hoped at least. "Or?" Dylan grunted.

"Or I use my holoform. It doesn't have them, and we can make this easy." Knock Out put his hands on his hips and gave the boy a firm look. "Now take your pick, we don't have all day. I've got more patients to see and your old mech has work to do too."

With a pleading expression, Dylan stared over at Ratchet. But the medic stood there for a moment, looking between the two of them. He was about ready to put a stop to this, feeling the fear. But finally, as if not believing his father would give in, Dylan looked up. "I guess I could let your holoform touch me." Dylan replied quietly. "But if you even think of going anywhere that I'm not cool with..."

The arrival of Knock Out's holoform stopped him from speaking. The medic's holoform was a tall, slender man with red hair, and auburn eyes. He looked younger than Ratchet, but had an equally seasoned looked to his eyes at the same time. "Alright kid, we'll take this nice and easy. But don't fight me too much, I don't do well when kids give me a ton of trouble." He explained. "And you don't want me to make a mistake."

Dylan stiffened, his expression tense, but Ratchet was careful to sit down right beside them. His optics on Dylan in order to remind him that he was right there. That he would never, EVER, let anyone do to him what Gene had.

"Well, you're certainly healthy enough. So I can already see for myself that Ratchet is treating you well." Knock Out commented. "Grown a few inches since you came to him last too so you're growing properly. Now what's this about scars on your body?"

"They're old." Ratchet commented. "Dylan doesn't like showing them to people. It's personal."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to take a look at them myself. No offense, Ratchet, but I do like to see all aspects of my patient's health. And even on the off chance that there are fresh scars..." Knock Out commented.

"Dad would never hurt me like that. He's promised me plenty of times."

"Nothing personal towards your sire, kid. But I don't take my chances with abuse victims."

Ratchet wanted to throttle Knock Out for trying to force this on Dylan. But then he remembered, quietly, that he had forced the same thing on him. He took a deep breath, looking at Knock Out. "Look in my memory banks, then. You'll see I've never put a hand on him. You don't need to invade his personal space like that. I made that mistake and it hurt his trust of me for a while." Ratchet told him, his voice firm.

Dylan noticed the tension between the two of them, his eyes lowering. Was Ratchet going to get into trouble if he didn't see his scars? Dylan didn't want that to happen, especially not now that he was adopted. "Dad?" Ratchet turned his head at the timid voice. "It's OK, I don't want you to get in trouble. I... I'll show him my scars." Dylan breathed.

"Your sire wouldn't be in trouble..." Knock Out began.

"It's okay... Dad's told me they're nothing to be ashamed of. And besides... I don't want to be trouble anymore."

Knock Out paused a moment, his optics turning to Ratchet. The older medic appeared thoroughly impressed with the reaction. "Dylan, you're not trouble. And you don't have to do this." Ratchet explained.

"I want to." Dylan replied. "I can't be scared of people seeing them forever, right?"

Knock Out hardly had a chance to reply before Dylan removed his shirt. At once, there was a stark silence in the room as Knock Out took in the sight. The lacerations, the faded damage... The "brand" of Gene's initials that were forever there. He tried not to stare for long, but the sight disgusted him. If it had been the finish of an Autobot, Knock Out could take care of it, reverse such damage so they didn't have to carry it on them forever.

But humans were another thing entirely. "Your father did this irreparable damage to your finish!?" Knock Out nearly snapped.

"... A lot of it's from him, some from other homes..." Dylan went red with embarrassment. "You can tell the difference since his are older... But they stick out the most. At least, to me."

Knock Out tried hard to keep his temper in check, his holoform's eyes looking over him. "How could anyone treat a youngling...Their own, or not in such a manner?" He asked as his tanks churned in disgust. "If I could do anything for it, you can believe I'd do something about it. But your sire's right, it's nothing to be ashamed of. If anything the vile creatures that called themselves your caretakers should be ashamed."

Dylan relaxed a little, but even moreso as Knock Out carefully handed him his shirt. The mech seemed to shift a little bit as Dylan put his shirt back on. "I uh... That's all you need?" Dylan asked quietly.

"I only needed to see it once. You never have to show it to me again."

At that point, Dylan relaxed more, as Ratchet watched him. Knock Out carefully placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, beginning to move onto the other parts of his check-up. And in that moment, Ratchet could see the quiet shift from fear, to calmness in Dylan. A sign that he was slowly, but surely finding a way to trust him. "So... Dad told me you were a bit of a troublemaker..." Dylan commented, as he had vaguely remembered the chat about Knock Out from months before.

"That's a funny statement coming from someone who met their sire by tagging him." Knock Out mused. "But I did have a wild side in my day, yes."

"In your day? How many times has Prowl arrested you for street racing?" Ratchet snorted.

"Hey! It's a fun sport!"

"Wow, even I wouldn't have the guts to street race." Dylan gave a grin. "Though there was this one time before I met Dad when I was with a friend of mine."

"I wouldn't finish that sentence. I don't want to hear it." Ratchet groaned.

But he saw what Dylan was trying to do, he was trying to level with Knock Out more. To continue to see if this mech was really someone he could trust. And in response, Knock Out barked out a laugh. "Tagging and in the same car as a street racer. Primus, Ratchet. Where did you find this one at only fourteen years old?" He snorted.

Ratchet grimaced, but quickly returned to a soft smile. "He's really something alright. Though if he doesn't want to be grounded for the rest of his natural born life, those days are behind him."

Knock Out looked at Ratchet with a mischievous grin. As if to say what Dylan was thinking: "Yeah right!" After all, he was still just a kid. "If he's anything like I was at his age in our years, he won't be outgrowing it anytime soon." Knock Out noted. "And there's nothing wrong with a little of it. But take it from me kid, you'll WANT to mellow out. Lest you want the old mech bailing you out of jail."

Ratchet cringed at the thought of having to ever bail Dylan out of jail. That would be the day, he figured. He'd probably give his son the lecture of his life if that happened. "If he knows what's good for him, that is never going to happen." Dylan threw his hands up a little. "I had to help him from going to juvie when I first met him. So he really doesn't want to know how long he'd be grounded for if he ended up in there anyway."

Knock Out snorted, while Dylan made a mental note in regards to never getting arrested. "Well then, onto better topics, he seems healthy. The scars that seemed to come from that skateboarding accident are all healed or healing. So I say we just need our annual check-up in a few months." He then looked at the boy skeptically. "If the human agrees to be my patient from now on, that is."

Dylan tiled his head a little, thinking it over for a long moment. "Yeah, I guess you're alright. I think I can learn a lot from you if anything else."

"Allspark forbid!" Ratchet groaned. Yet, a wave of relief came over him all the same. The hunt was over, even if that meant he now had to deal with the possibility of Knock Out helping Dylan be a better troublemaker. And on that note, he had a feeling this was coming at the cost of some of his peace as well.

...

Ratchet was making Dylan's next appointment when Knock Out came up behind him. The Autobot turned his head towards him, raising an optic ridge. The crimson former Decepticon seemed to stare around, only satisfied to speak when he knew Dylan was out of earshot. "How in the pit is that man still breathing? That is some of the worst damage I've seen done to a youngling!" He spoke with a dark tone eerily reminiscent of his former self. "He should be locked up so long he forgets what the sun looks like."

Ratchet took a deep breath, he should have known this reaction was coming; especially after the look that Knock Out had after examining his back. "Unfortunately, Dylan was five when the man stood trial. He was too scared to speak of all the abuse he suffered." He shook his head. "As for why he's still breathing - that's a mystery even to me. Especially given how prison inmates are said to treat child molesters."

"Sounds like it's time for some vigilante justice if you ask me." Knock Out snarled. "If anyone raped my youngling, whipped him, and fragging branded him... Well, he'd be on my examination table for a long list of the most painful experiments I could think of. A Decepticon in their heyday would have more mercy on a youngling!"

Ratchet thought of arguing but knew it was pointless. Some Decepticons were good mechs fighting for the wrong reasons, and he couldn't deny that may be true in some circles. "You should keep your voice down. Dylan's having a hard time dealing with him being out as it is." Ratchet told him as quietly as possible. "As for vigilante justice... I'm a medic..."

"Who gives a scrap! If it kept my youngling safe, I'd do it. You should be thinking that way too." Knock Out added, lowering his voice to the best of his ability. "The fact you can even keep this calm about it-"

"I'm not keeping calm about it. In fact, my spark is turning in knots right now." Ratchet told him bluntly. "But at the same time I know I need to keep a level head for Dylan. What example would I be setting to talk about vigilante justice? A terrible one. Especially when he's barely getting over this psychologically."

Knock Out stood there for a long moment, finally taking a deep breath. Ratchet knew he had him there, as a parent himself. No one wanted to set a bad example for their kids, and Knock Out sure didn't want his kid to pick up on attitudes like that either. "Yeah, well... You may be right there. But either way, I'd start thinking about what I would do if that fragger showed up. Someone who did that isn't going to go out without a fight." He explained darkly. "Anyway, I have patients to attend to. Catch you later."

Even as Knock Out left, Ratchet could hear his words echo in his helm. What would he do if Gene came knocking on their door? What would he do if he decided to try and hurt Dylan again? A part of him wanted to say he'd let him go to jail for the rest of his life if he hurt Dylan. But the other, however small, urged him that if that happened, he would ensure Dylan would never have to fear him again. Even if that meant killing the man by his own hand.

He watched as Dylan played a game in a chair silently. His optics softening as the thoughts continued to enter his processor. He reminded himself that he wouldn't need to worry about this if all went well. Maybe Knock Out would be wrong and he'd never have to worry about the man coming around. But like it or not, Ratchet did have to think about it. Because the day may come, whether soon, or in the future, where he'd have to make that choice.

And Primus almighty, that thought scared him.