In. Out. In. Out.

It seemed like such a simple routine—so insignificant in the long run—yet it had helped him when he was younger and dealing with everything. His father's departure, the trials of adolescence, working to help his mother foot the bills. In such a small town, the last thing he needed was to be labeled as more of a social pariah than he already was. When he agreed to see the specialist, it had relieved his mother—he hated worrying her, being a burden. For a time, it had helped and gained some semblance of normalcy.

When he met the 'Bots, he'd reacted the same way any normal kid would have; he'd been struck with fear, amazement, and wonder all at the same time. Miko and Raf were far from the paradigm of normal—that along with their collective secret had forged their friendship. Then there came Agent Fowler and his oblique word play, watching their reaction as they tried to figure out the meaning behind his words. Amongst the vast expanse of the impossible, his own personal problems had seemed so irrelevant. He'd never showed any signs, so no one ever asked and he didn't need to tell them anything.

In. Out. In. Out.

Schizophrenia was nothing like the media had made it out to be—not every diagnosis is one size fits all. That was what his therapist (specialist, he reminded himself) had told him when he was first told about it. That his case wasn't as severe as most and he could lead a modest life without worry of any meltdowns. Despite that, he'd been given some medication to keep his symptoms in check. And so far, it had been a rousing success.

When he had first encountered Arcee, his first thought was to go straight home and take his medication. Those plans had been put off by the realization that Sierra and her friend had been there as well and saw the whole thing. Raf's presence when the Cybertronian battle began had only cemented the reality of the situation. He had been both frightened and relieved at the same time. After settling into this newfound friendship with them, he'd felt all the years of loneliness and despair wash away.

In. Out. In. Out.

It seemed after he'd accepted his role in their lives and vice versa, everything seemed to be normal—he'd done things he never imagined. He'd laughed with them, worried for them, and watch them grasp life on Earth with the curiosity that both intrigued and amused him. He was always willing to answer questions and provided answers as best he could. Ratchet said he was just like Optimus when he was younger. The medic hadn't taken something into account when he'd made his snap judgment.

Primes weren't schizophrenic.

Jack didn't hear voices in his head—he'd have some hallucinations, but they never showed up when he was with the 'Bots. Maybe that was why he spent so much time at base—they kept the falsehoods away without him having to take any more pills. That made the bonds he'd had with them no less important or special. It didn't hinder the thought that they had become his and his mother's family. But he still never told them.

He didn't want them to treat him with "kid gloves" so to speak.

Miko, with her tactless comments, might say something offensive, something he was likely to brush off, but might have drawn some ire and disappointment from the others. Despite her temperament, he doubted the girl was that insensitive and might beat herself up over it later. So when she'd teasingly called an idea of his "crazy", there was no threat of appearing insensitive to his condition.

In. Out. In. Out.

It had all been going so smoothly until he saw Silas on the base, smirking at him with that devilish grin he'd had when he traded his mother for Arcee. He wished he could have seen the scarred man's face when he realized—too late—that Jack had taken his radio. Whatever the terrorist leader was up to, he knew it would have something to do with the Autobots and that he had to warn them. First he had to follow Silas and ensure he was up to no good. That should have been his first clue.

When he realized that Silas was watching him, he immediately went back to Hanger E and told Optimus, who relayed the information to Agent Fowler. Immediately the entire base was swept for any signs of Silas or M. . and the 'Bots were ready for whatever Silas had planned for them. The Wreckers had been sent out to monitor the situation in case their aid was needed. Ratchet had been given access to the entire security system to help locate Silas. When Jack told where he'd first seen the scarred man, that should have been his second clue.

The medic rewound the tape to the point in time at which Jack had seen Silas and they carefully watched the recording. Watched as Jack followed him from the mess hall to the obstacle course, keeping him in close proximity. He then reached the edge of the base where Silas had made him. But there was only one difference what they had seen and what Jack had experienced.

Silas was nowhere to be seen.

In. Out. In. Out.

It was a strange thing, watching yourself follow a hallucination around, expose everyone to the secret you'd managed to keep this entire time. Watch as everything you tried so hard to keep inside unravel before your very eyes. When the recordings stopped, he felt all their gazes on him as Fowler told the base that it had been a false alarm. He felt humiliation build in his chest, his eyes burning with tears as he realized what had just happened. He spared a glance at Ratchet, expecting to see anger and irritation, but surprised to find concern in his gaze.

"Jack. . ."

Arcee's voice was the final straw.

He ran into Fowler's office and locked the door, curling into a ball and performed the ritual he'd been taught since his diagnosis. He could feel the tears as the poured down his face, the sobs as he rocked back and forth to calm himself. He chastised himself over and over again for his own stupidity that actually believed what he'd seen. He could hear the knocks on his door as they tried to reach him, pleading with him to come out and speak with them. But he couldn't face them now, didn't want to face them ever again.

All he could do right now was breathe.

A/N: I apologize if this is not a proper representation of schizophrenia. I hope I have not offended anyone. This will be a two-shot, so expect another chapter later.