Chapter 4

Hey Guys! Sorry it took so long to update this. "Autobot to Decepticon" And this story were originally going to be side projects while I worked on Sunset Prime, My main story. But don't worry, I'll try harder to stay on track. Now let's pick up this chapter were I left off:

*Smokescreen sighed and dropped his arms, "I know what I was doing was bad, but once it became a habit, I just couldn't stop. Besides... It was kinda nice once I got over the pain..."

That's when Arcee snapped, "Are you serious?!" She shouted, "You were hurting yourself, keeping all your pain a secret, and for what?! Just because it felt right?! That is sick Smokescreen! Why would you do that?!"

"Because no one cared about what I did!" Smokey snapped back. Everyone went silent as the rookie lowered his head. "No one cared! It was like I didn't exist! And it never ended! This was the only way I could calm myself down without hurting anyone else. I didn't want any of you involved because I knew you'd freak out and take it all away from me. My escape, my dagger, everything! I never wanted you to be a part of this, so just leave me be and let me forget any of this ever happened!" He snatched the dagger off the table by its blade, the serrated metal piercing into his servo, more Energon oozing out slowly. He turned to the exit of the room when-*

Bumblebee ran in front of Smokescreen, arms held out. Smokescreen stopped in his tracks, but only glared angrily at the scout. Just then, he a familiar pain from his hand. He looked to see his dagger was gone, a slice mark across his palm. He turned around angrily as Arcee held his dagger by the handle.

"Arcee, give. That. Back!" He growled, his optics burning holes into her spark.

"Smokescreen, we're just trying to help you." She spoke calmly.

"You can help by leaving me alone!" The rookie snapped.

"Not a chance kid." Wheeljack stepped forward, "You need to quit this habit of yours pronto."

The kid groaned, "Look, I'm not doing this to hurt you guys, I'm just trying to keep my anger intact!"

"Smokescreen, we understand you feel a little stressed." Arcee held a hand out trying to calm him down, "But hurting yourself isn't going to do anything about it. We're just going to keep the dagger from you for a while so you don't cut yourself anymore."

A terrifying glare found its way onto Smokescreen's faceplates. "I knew you'd take it away from me!" He growled and started to charge towards her. Bulkhead and Wheeljack reacted quickly and grabbed his arms, holding him back without hurting him. The bots all flinched, they didn't know Smokescreen had this much anger or power.

Arcee kept her hand out, but did back up a few steps, not wanting to find out what Smokescreen's true strength was. "We're not taking it from you. We're just keeping you from harming yourself. After this habit... fades away, we'll give it back to you. I promise."

Smokescreen didn't relax, but he did cease struggling to escape the wreckers. He was breathing heavily and angrily. He turned to look over everyone in the room, they each were looking at him, worried and concerned. He took a few breaths then sighed heavily, his anger disappearing, replaced by guilt. "Alright." He mumbled.

After sensing the rookie calming down, the Wreckers released their grip. The rookie slumped his shoulders, but didn't move otherwise. Arcee turned to Optimus and placed the kid's dagger in his servo. Smokescreen had to clench his fists tightly to keep himself from forcefully getting it back. He grinded his denta and shut his optics as the Prime placed his blade in the box itself, instead of the lid like he used to, and locked it. Smokescreen felt his spark clench at the sight. His dagger was gone. For all he knew he wouldn't see it ever again. The thing that had been with him for years was locked away and now he would have to deal with his temper on his own with the others around him. To judge him! To make him feel weak and-

He took a deep breath, he couldn't think like that. His team wasn't going to be like the Elite Guard "Boot Camp", they were going to help him through this. They were going to support him. They're not going to let him down, and vice versa.

Just then he felt a gentle servo on his shoulder. He looked to see Ratchet giving him a sympathetic look. "Smokescreen. If you would let me, I would like to patch up your scars. I do not want them to get worse, and I think it would put a lot of us at ease."

Smokescreen sighed but nodded, "Okay."

The medic directed the younger mech onto a berth near the computers. Once the rookie sat down, he hesitantly retracted his arm plating, revealing the cuts once more. It stung when Ratchet disinfected the wounds, but Smokescreen forcibly held himself together. The medic had to clean every cut, including the ones that closed up slightly. "They could be infected already." The doc said. Smokescreen however figured he deserved every sting of the disinfectant he felt. Afterwards the Medic began to cover up his wounds properly, unlike how Smokescreen wraps them on his own. He did panic slightly however when he felt something, or rather someone, touch his shoulder. He tensed and swung his helm around to see Bulkhead. He sighed, "Sorry." He muttered.

"It's okay kid." The mech replied, patting the kid's shoulder. The Autobots, excluding Ratchet and Smokescreen, looked at one another. They had no idea their youngest member was torturing himself in this way. And the reasons he was doing it… did he really think no one cared about him? Was he pushing himself too far? How could they not notice this before?! Arcee only began to notice things when she saw the box in his room. Most likely he was cutting himself when he told him about the early training. She shuttered at the thought of being close to that sort of action.

Time passed and soon, Smokescreen's cuts were patched up and cleaned. Ratchet gave him some medications that would make his wounds numb, but a side effect was he was getting tired. Optimus insisted he went to recharge, but the mech was still stubborn.

"It's okay Optimus. I'll be fine." The rookie muttered.

However after what they went through, Optimus knew he'd have to be stricter with the mech.

"Smokescreen, if Ratchet's serum is going to cause drowsiness, then you must listen to his advice." The Prime explained, gaining a nod from the medic, "Furthermore, I believe you deserve a recharge after today's events."

"But…" Smokescreen was about to reply when something hit his processor, making his vision blurry and his head spin. He moaned as he put a hand to his helm, robbing his closed optics gently.

"Easy Smokey." Arcee walked up next to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Come on, I'll help get you to your room."

The femme helped the mech up and began guiding him to his room, giving the others a look before entering the hallway. Soon they reached the rookie's room and Arcee got Smokescreen to his berth. Once he sat down, he rubbed his helm. "You okay?" Arce asked.

The mech moaned, "Just got a headache." He sighed, "I'm really sorry Arcee. It just… became a habit over time."

Arcee sighed back, putting a hand on his shoulder, kneeling down and gaining his eyesight. "Smokescreen, we're not angry, we're just… worried about you. If you've been doing this for so long, it can't be good for you. And all those things you said about yourself, about thinking you're weak and that we don't care… none of that is true. And don't think we won't help you after all this."

Smokescreen looked at her, "Arcee… I… my anger's still gonna be a problem." He noted.

"Anger or no anger, you're still the Smokescreen we know. Nothing's gonna change that." The femme smiled. She stood up, "Now get some rest. You deserve it."

The mech watched the femme leave before sighing. After a while, he laid back on his berth and stared at the ceiling. After a while, he found himself in stasis. After a few moments of quiet, Smokescreen found himself on the floor of the Base. Smokescreen stood up and looked around confused. No one was there, the hallways were empty and eerily quiet. After staying still for a while, Smokescreen began to walk down the hallway. Room after room, Smokescreen found no one, until he had made an entire circle in the base. Smokescreen shook his head, "What is going on here?" He asked himself, looking around once more.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Smokescreen whipped around as a voice spoke out. In one of the dark hallways, two optics glowed red.

"You're home. And, as much as I hate spoiling the ending of an adventure… this is going to be your life."

Smokescreen growled, "What are you talking about?"

The owner of the voice groaned and rolled its red optics, "You rookies are so dense!" Just then the optics disappeared. Smokescreen looked around until he saw them in a different hallway, "With the way you're going, you secret out and your anger sure to return, it'll only be a matter of time before the Autobots leave you."

Smokescreen gasped before scowling, "You're wrong! Arcee and Optimus PROMISED they wouldn't leave me!"

"Oh please! Are you really going to listen to some mech and femme who barely know you?" The owner of the voice stepped into the light and Smokescreen watched in horror as the optics shifted from red to blue and a mech stood in front of him, "Or yourself?"

Smokescreen backed up in fear. He was haunting himself, saying the others would leave him. Just then he tripped and fell back. He winced in pain only for the base to disappear into darkness. He backed away from where he was, at least where the other him was, only for the voice to echo once more.

"They're not going to help you. They're just going to keep you around until they realize how weak and pathetic you are! And how much of a burden you've become!"

Smokescreen covered his audio receptors, "Stop it! You're lying!"

The voice chuckled as his other self stepped out of the shadows, "Why would I lie to myself? Seems rather moronic, don't you think?"

Smokescreen continued to try and block the voice of himself mocking him. He told himself it was lying, it was all some sick illusion or dream. But when he opened his optics his other self had his dagger in hand. The other him kicked him onto his back and placed a ped on his chassis, trapping him. Smokescreen tried to get up, but the other him brought the dagger to his throat and smirked sickly, "Until we meet again." He hissed and sliced Smokescreen's throat. Just as he felt a sting of pain, Smokescreen saw white. Looking around he was in his room at the base. It was all a nightmare. A sick, horrible nightmare. Sitting up he drew back his arm plating and saw Ratchet's handy work. After taking a few breathes, he sighed and put his plating back over the bandages. He laid back down, his spark still pulsing frantically after what he had just seen. He shook his head. It wasn't real. It would never be real. The Autobots would never leave him, and he was not going to let them down. With a final sigh Smokescreen closed his eyes and went back into stasis, making a solemn vow his nightmare would never become a reality.