ROSMUND CHADWICK: Well thank you very much! I'm glad that you enjoy the story so much. :) And yes, Galloway is definitely stepping onto thin ice.

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CHAPTER 20
Words of Advice

Trevor could feel the weight of the gun in his hand even more now. It was probably the most unnerving feeling he'd ever experienced, knowing he held so much power in such a small handgun. Out of the corner of his optics, Bumblebee noticed the shaky way in which Trevor was holding it. He knew what that was like, he'd always felt that way the first few times he had arms training after all. "Hey," Trevor peered up at his father calmly. "It's okay, Trev. You won't be shooting anyone, just paper targets." He added. "Plus the one time you did shoot a gun, you hit Barricade dead on in the optic."

"I got insanely lucky," Trevor replied. "I was just so angry at him for attacking you that something in me snapped. I'm not even sure why I went for the gun, or how I managed to hit that bullseye," He admitted.

Bumblebee smirked a little bit, looking down at Trevor. "That sounds a lot more natural talent to me," Trevor snorted, but Bumblebee gave him a look as they entered the shooting range. "No, honest. Do you know how tall Barricade is?" Trevor shrugged. "Taller than I'd think most fifteen year olds would be able to measure let alone hit," He explained.

Ironhide stared over, having heard the conversation. It was clear that even he was a bit impressed by the action. Trevor pushed some of his blond bangs away, and tried to hide the fact he was blushing. "I'd like to see some of this so-called "natural talent"," Ironhide commented, as he crossed his arms. "Especially considering he's struggling to even hold it," He explained.

Bumblebee nodded, leading Trevor to a spot, he activated his holoform. Soon, Trevor was being helped into the right position, his muscles, and stomach tightening even more than before. In front of him, a series of white papers marked his targets, which were high up. Clearly, they were teaching him how to shoot other Cybertronians, which made him even more nervous. "Just relax," Bumblebee rubbed the boy's arm gently. "Aim it nice and steady now, I'm gonna shoot it with you one time, okay?" Trevor nodded rigidly. "Alright," He put his finger on top of his, which was on the trigger. "At the count of three. One... Two..."

The gunshot was loud this time, shocking Trevor and shooting his shoulder back as he grunted in pain. The bullet hit its target, much to his surprise, and relief. "That's all there is to it," Bumblebee began calmly. "Pull the hammer back, aim, and fire. Two hands is best according to Google," He told him calmly. "I'm letting go, now. But Ironhide and I are going to be watching." He pointed up toward another marker calmly. "See if you can hit that on your own."

Bumblebee stepped back to stand with Ironhide, who looked at Bumblebee. "Don't be too disappointed if he can't hit it," Bumblebee frowned as Ironhide said that. "The kid is not half-bad, though he needs a lot of work. If that means it's in all fields, than he wouldn't be the first," Bumblebee nodded, understanding now. "Besides, I've seen only a few younglings with natural marksmanship-."

He never finished his sentence before the gun went off, his optics growing wide. Sure enough, Trevor had hit his target dead on, much to the weapons specialist's surprise. Though the boy was still growing used to the kickback, clearly shown by the way he rubbed his arm. "Well I'll be slagged," Ironhide muttered. "Kid, you're telling me you've only fired a gun once before this?"

"Lucky shot?" Trevor questioned.

"Maybe," Ironhide replied. "See the furthest one to the left?" Trevor turned and nodded his head. "Let me see ye try to hit that."

This time, all of Ironhide's attention was on Trevor, his optics twinkling with curiosity. Bumblebee was simply grinning proudly as Trevor fired the shot, and this time, though it did not hit dead on, it did graze, and substantially rip the target. "Boy, you've got a slaggin' eye for marksmanship," Trevor turned, his eyes wide with wonder. "I'd be mighty curious to see how you'd do with a rifle, or even one of our own weapons."

"Baby steps, 'Hide," Bumblebee held up his hands. "Let's not kill my son just yet."

Ironhide grunted, clearly somewhat disappointed. Though he also knew that he was only a supervisor on these lessons. Bumblebee was supposed to be teaching him mostly according to the traditions. He shifted a bit, hoping that Bumblebee would let him graduate to bigger guns soon. "I'm just saying, you can't teach that, that's natural talent," Ironhide commented, pointing to Trevor. "I'm going to be very interested in seeing how a natural ability such as yours develops."

"I just point and shoot," Trevor shook his head. "I didn't think, I mean-."

"That's all it takes for some people," Ironhide shook his head. "My brother, Hound and I were about the equivalent of your age when we discovered ours." He pointed out, with a nod. "I know you have no desire to join the army. But if ye ever get into a Mission City like situation again. Well, give ye a gun with sabot rounds, and a lot more training and honing of the skill... And you could be one deadly little fragger," Trevor grinned a little.

"Wow, 'Hide," Trevor breathed out a bit, nearly stumbling over his words. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Ironhide nodded, then noticed how Trevor was rubbing shoulder still. "I'd love to continue this," He grimaced. "But I think we'd better call it a day before ye dislocate your shoulder."

"So I can drop dead now?" Trevor muttered, exhausted.

"I'd suggest a long nap," Bumblebee laughed, as did Ironhide. "C'mon, Trev, it's only once a week. Tomorrow you'll just have your lessons with Ratchet," Trevor groaned at the thoughts. "You'll get used to it, trust me," He scooped the exhausted human up. "Say thanks to Ironhide now, and I'll carry your tired little afterburner to bed."

"Nnn, thanks 'Hide," Trevor muttered.

"Rest up, kid," Ironhide noted. "We're just getting started."

Admittedly, Trevor's body was screaming for mercy at the idea.

...

Trevor woke up the next morning feeling like his entire body was on fire. His shoulder was in searing pain, his legs stiff, and his arms like jelly. And yet, he was still told that his lessons would begin at ten, and thus had to endure another session with Ratchet. Afterward, Ratchet looked over his body, happily finding nothing too serious in the way of damage. With the exception of several pulled muscles, and of course, a strained shoulder, which he gave Trevor pain pills for. Though, Trevor was surprised, he did ask him to stay in a berth to make sure his readings were right.

As he laid on the berth, half-napping, he peered over at Ratchet. The medic had been looking over every once and a while, likely doing scans. It was mostly strange because he had honestly though Ratchet did not like him. He groaned a bit, the pain pills starting to work their magic. "You know, I thought you didn't like me," Trevor grunted, suddenly grabbing Ratchet's attention.

"What gave you that idea?" Ratchet questioned.

"That talk we had on our first day here," Trevor replied, sitting up slightly, and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Back when I called you... That word," He paused a moment. "I thought the way you reacted to me that you were going to want nothing to do with me." Ratchet was silent, but kept his optics fixed on the young human. "What made you change your tune?"

Ratchet looked at the boy with a bit of surprise, then turned back to his work. For a moment, Trevor thought he'd never get an answer from him, but eventually, he spoke again. "I never disliked you," Ratchet replied, honesty in his voice. "I was... Skeptical of Prime's rather sudden decision of bringing one of the humans into the Autobots. Let alone into his own family," He explained. "But it was not because of who you were, only because of what it entailed."

"So you didn't think I was worthy?"

"Quit putting words in my mouth," Ratchet replied haughtily. "I think if it had to be anyone, at least it was you. You and Lennox are the only two humans I trust on this planet so far," He explained, making Trevor's eyes widen in surprise. "I simply thought that it was jumping the gun. But it is not my place to say such things to Optimus." He explained.

"Now what do you think?"

Ratchet was silent once again, but slowly approached him, running more scans as he did. His optics looked into Trevor's green eyes with a look of uncertainty. "You've done well to show me you were worth giving a chance," Ratchet admitted, his voice quiet. "And you bring joy to Optimus and Bumblebee's lives, which does make me happy to see," Trevor nodded his head slowly. "But we have not spent much time with each other, and thus, I cannot say my own personal feelings about you."

"I understand," Trevor nodded. "That's why you wanted to teach me, isn't it?" Ratchet stared at him with surprise. "You wanted to see if I'm really the type of kid they think I am?"

Ratchet didn't reply at once, but Trevor knew it had to at least be part of the reason. He took a deep breath, and finally nodded. "Yes," Ratchet replied. "Partly, that and I'm not sure about the flawed education system on Earth. But I was curious to get to know you on a personal level as well," The medic explained. "So far I have learned you are very bright, and hyperactive."

"The latter comes with the ADHD," Trevor explained with a chuckle. "You should have seen me when I was a little kid. You couldn't keep me still for more than a few minutes," Ratchet nodded his head slowly, taking this information in. "I bet you're glad you didn't have to deal with that. Bumblebee says hyper kids drive you nuts. Even if you had one."

Ratchet actually chuckled himself for the first time at that. Trevor smirked, he had finally succeeded in getting a positive emotion out of the mech. "I had three, all femmes, all grown," He explained, thinking back fondly. "And let me tell you, you could not be any crazier than they were. But yes, I am glad I didn't have to deal with yet another one. Your father was bad enough as a youngling," He sighed.

"Bee was ten vorns old when he came here," Trevor replied.

"And your point is?" Ratchet questioned. "He was still one of the most hyper younglings I've known." He sighed a bit, pulling away now. "Alright, you seem to have calmed now that the pain medication is taking effect," Trevor nodded. "So you're relieved from the med bay. Tell Ironhide and Bumblebee to be easier on you, you're not a Cybertronian. You're more fragile."

Trevor decided it was probably a bad idea to tell Ratchet that Ironhide wanted to let him use a rifle. Instead, he hopped down from the berth and rubbed his arm slightly. "You know, if you wanted to get to know me," Trevor frowned. "On second thought I don't take you as the type to just relax and hang out. Am I right?" He questioned.

"I'll stick to learning more about you through our lessons," Ratchet told him with honesty. "If you speak of the time you spend in the rec room. I do take my breaks there," He explained, much to Trevor's surprise. "Perhaps, one of these days we will be there at the same time," He explained. "But is usually while you, and most of the other humans are recharging."

Trevor shrugged, though he doubted he would be up that early. He did find Ratchet interesting in his own way, a good way. He definitely thought there was more to him than he had initially thought, especially given how he seemed warmer now. Definitely still with a Dr. House-like attitude, but perhaps not as much of a stiff. But all the same, he left the conversation at that, heading off to find something to do.

...

"Jazz, can I talk to you?"

Jazz turned his head as Trevor approached him in the rec room. Somehow, he had known he could expect Trevor to approach him. Though he understood why he would, or at least, he had an idea. Was he the first person Trevor had met that could relate to him on the level that he knew what it was like to go without a basic thing that nearly everyone did? "Come ta talk to me more about ma visor?" Trevor stopped in his tracks. "It's okay," Jazz chuckled. "Ah get it, ah was curious about others like me too."

"I know I'm not exactly like you," Trevor approached him, and sat down on a human sized couch. "But I thought that... Maybe you're the right person to go to for some advice," He explained.

Jazz nodded his head, looking down at Trevor. He was definitely willing to give the young human advice if that was what he was looking for. But it was clear by the look in his eyes that the boy wasn't so sure. "A'ight," Jazz nodded his head. "Hit me up, home slice. What's on ya mind?"

Trevor looked at Jazz, and for emphasis, rolled up his jeans. The mech watched in surprise as Trevor slowly removed his prosthetic leg. Where his leg would have started, Jazz now clearly saw a small stump. "I know I shouldn't let it inhibit me," Trevor began, his voice low. "I'm working on that, and I think I can deal with that," He paused a moment. "But ever since I was a kid, people have picked on me..."

"People like Galloway," Jazz replied.

"Him, this kid, Trent, other kids at schools I've gone to," Trevor swallowed a bit. "Here, no one does, I know. They probably have friends from the army that lost limbs, so they can understand," Jazz nodded his head slowly. "They made me feel like I wasn't "different"," Trevor explained. "But then Galloway came along, and started picking on me again. Like this morning, I heard him call me "Stumpy" to one of his assistants."

"Where is this going, Trevor?" Jazz questioned.

"Did anyone ever... Pick on you?" Trevor asked. "For not being able to see?"

Jazz stared at Trevor, noticing the shame in his eyes. And that's when it hit him, the words did more than hurt Trevor, they made him ashamed. And for a moment, he pictured himself, a youngling, coming to his caretakers about the same thing. Why people stared at him, and poked at, or even tried to take his visor. "Well first off, like I tried to tell ya yesterday," Jazz began. "Ya have nothing to be ashamed of. People are aftholes, aftholes who pick on those they think are inferior," Trevor's eyes lifted up to him. "Ya think ah'm ashamed? Ah'd go without mah visor if not for ma job in day-to-day life."

Trevor nodded his head a bit, though his eyes were filled with confusion. "You're not afraid of the things that people would say?" Trevor asked. "Or how everyone would look at you like you were made of glass?"

"Who gives a slag!" Trevor jumped up in surprise at the way Jazz half-shouted that. "Ya, when I was growin' up everyone picked on me. The council taught youngling's that glitches were bad. So imagine how they treated a blind mechling," He explained, looking at him. "They had the mean nicknames: Hazy, Visor Eyes, freak," Trevor knew that last one well. "Y'know what my adoptive sire told me?"

"What?"

"That they're all losers," Trevor chuckled a little. "Oh, it's true, kid. Ya know where people like that end up?" The boy shook his head. "When the war broke out, most of the kids who picked on me? Ended up WORKING for me," Trevor's eyes widened in disbelief. "It's a true statement that those who have it the hardest end up on top. We fight to get where we are, and we're truly kind people most of the time," He explained, rather bluntly. "Kids who can't treat others with respect? If they grow up to be anythin' like Galloway they neva grow up. They end up in our positions as adults 'cause they can't show respect."

"But Galloway-."

"Some get lucky," Jazz shook his head. "But ya can't let them get to ya either. Ya think he'll last long around here with his attitude?" Trevor shook his head in all honesty. "I want ya to promise me something, Trevor," The boy's eyes lifted to him again. "Promise me ya won't let this slag ever get to ya again. Let it roll off ya back and turn the otha cheek." He then added. "'Cause you're always gonna be betta than them."

Trevor looked at Jazz with a small smile. "I really hope I grow up to have your outlook on it," Trevor admitted. "I really could use that confidence." He explained.

"Ya will," Jazz told him. "According to Bee you're gonna be the next big thing in racing," He encouraged. "All those jerks that you've met? Are gonna eat your dust," Trevor chuckled, nodding his head. "Slag, maybe ya can make a difference for kids like yourself," Trevor had never thought about that. "Because trust me, ya aren't the only one gettin' picked on like that."

"You know, for a guy who talks like a hipster," Trevor laughed a little. "You get really deep sometimes."

"The Jazz-man has many layers," Jazz smirked as Trevor slowly returned his prosthetic leg to his "stump". "Feelin' any betta now?"

Trevor was silent, realizing that he actually did feel a lot better. Jazz's words were sinking in more and more, and merging with those from the day previously. As he thought more and more about it, he realized the mech may have just started the seeds of changing his thoughts on his "condition" around. "Yeah," Trevor nodded. "I think I am."

"Good," Jazz turned his head. "Hey, Bee, lookin' for your little man?"

Trevor looked up, surprised as he saw that Bumblebee was standing at the doorway. He could tell by the look of anger on his face that his father had heard every single word he said. "Yeah, I was," Bumblebee approached Trevor slowly. "He called you "stumpy"?" Trevor nodded his head slowly. "I'm gonna run that high priced suit wearing jerk down! How could he pick on a kid? That's just - despicable. What if it was his kid?"

"Bee, it's okay," Trevor shook his head. "He's not going to listen, you know that. And you DEFINITELY can't kill human officials," Bumblebee's doorwings flared with complete frustration. "I'm going to take Jazz's advice. Which I think was basically to just ignore them, right?"

"That's the best thing you can do," Jazz shrugged. "Though I ain't against Bee running him down either," He added. "What a creep."

Bumblebee grumbled something under his breath, and Trevor knew that he would be saying something. If not to the man himself, he was going to talk to Optimus. And heaven only knew what Optimus's reaction would be. "Either way, Prime will hear about it," Bumblebee replied, approaching Trevor and scooping him off the couch. "I thought it was that one incident, but if he's actually bullying you."

"He doesn't say it to my face," Trevor replied. "Don't get yourselves in trouble over this."

Bumblebee sighed, knowing that if this was his take on it, Trevor would never admit it to Optimus. He was too scared of what might happen to their relationships with humanity, he supposed. But if nothing else, he would be giving Galloway as much hell as he possibly could. "Alright," Bumblebee told him calmly. "But if he does start doing it to your face? Either you'll start talking, or I'll start punting him into that wall I threatened to."

Jazz laughed at the thought of that, and crossed his arms. "Ah would love to see that," The mech pointed out. "The last time he and ah talked he made me want to do the same thing," He added with a snort.

"How did he even get the job?" Trevor asked.

"No clue," Bumblebee huffed. "But I wish the twins were here. Give him three days of their pranks, he'd be quitting in an instant."

Trevor smirked at the mention of Bumblebee's childhood friends yet again. He didn't know much about them, outside of them being Ironhide's sparklings and pulled pranks, but they did sound like a lot of fun. "Ya never know. I heard from Prime that the first ship of Autobots is only about five months journey from Earth," He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

"One can only hope," Bumblebee sighed, watching as Jazz started for the door. "You headed to the meeting?"

"Ya, I guess I'll see you there?" Bumblebee nodded, and Jazz gave a small salute. "I'll see ya later, shorty. Don't let 'em get you down."

Trevor nodded as he watched the Autobot leave slowly. "So I guess I'm coming too?" Trevor asked.

Bumblebee shook his head, surprising Trevor. Wasn't that supposed to be part of his training? Or was he losing his mind now? But Bumblebee answered his question before he could ask. "Prime says you've been working hard enough the past two days," He explained. "I'm supposed to fill you in on what we get figured out. But other than that, you're free for the day."

"Sweet," Trevor replied, grinning widely. "And Bee?" The yellow mech stared down at him. "Don't worry about Galloway, Jazz is right. He's bound to get fired at some point. And if he got this far with people making fun of him," He paused a moment. "Then I'm not going to let what he says get to me either." He offered.

Bumblebee held him close, but nodded before setting him back on the ground. After a moment, he looked down at him. "Just tell me if he keeps it up. Or starts saying things directly to you," He commented, his voice low. "I can't hurt him, but I can scare the slag out of him." He explained with a grin. "Just like I did with Trent."

"Alright," Trevor chuckled. "Get going before you're late."

"Yes, mom," Bumblebee teased lightly. "Love you, kiddo. I'll be back before long, we'll go a round of Mario Kart. That'll get your mind off of it."

"Love you too."

As Bumblebee walked out of the room, Trevor sighed. He did indeed have a lot of work to do if he was going to "ignore" Galloway. The man was hard to ignore, even if Jazz was probably right about all aspects of their conversation. But he didn't want Bumblebee confronting him, and getting in trouble either. He knew that if something happened to Galloway like that, they really could land in hot water. So for now, he'd remember what Jazz told him about where the "bullies" in his life ended up. And look to his future with the thought of the number one thing he had brought up: someday, he wanted to become a big racecar driver. And inspire other kids, amputees, limbless, or otherwise "different" that they could do whatever they want, no matter what bullies said.

Just like Jazz had, at least for now, done for him.