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Chapter 1: Promise

Ratchet turned just in time to see Drift collapse in a heap mere feet from the ledge of the roof, rust pooling beneath him from the sudden movement. He made a move to rush over to the fallen bot, but quickly found himself meeting the ground as well as his legs gave out with a sickening creak. It seemed his burst of adrenaline from the situation had run its course and he found himself finally beginning to succumb to the effects of the virus. Squinting through his static haze, Ratchet tried to make out the condition of the other from where he lay.

“-ift.”

 

Forcing the word out of his vocalizer was difficult, the fluid building up and pouring down his throat. It felt strange and alien and wrong , but he forced his attention away from the sensation and tried once again. 

 

“Drift.”

 

Drift’s frame lay dormant and unmoving, his back facing Ratchet. For a brief moment he feared he’d lost him until his audials picked up shallow, rattled vents from Drift’s direction and saw his frame trembling faintly.

 

Releasing his own strained vent, Ratchet lowered his helm on the ground as some of the tension left him. Drift was alive at the very least. He could work with that. Alive was good. 

 

Gripping the vial in his remaining hand, he painfully dragged his arm out from underneath his frame and managed to crane his neck to inspect it. Miraculously his fall had left the vial undamaged, the green liquid still sloshing around inside. He only hoped that First Aid and Ambulon would get their afts up here quickly so that all this wouldn’t have been for nothing. Because he sure as the Pit was not going to be able to drag his or Drift’s rusting carcass down that ladder, much less with only one arm and a barely functioning hand to his name.

 

Through the streaks of fluid clouding his vision, he kept his gaze set on the blurry image of Drift, the medic in him screaming at Ratchet to drag his aft over there and analyze the damage, but a deep lethargy fell over him and the will to move his limbs had all but left. 

 

It was getting harder to concentrate, his focus shifting in and out, thoughts jumbled and hard to make sense of. Damage alerts filled his HUD as he lay there, all too aware of how everything felt horrible and heavy and wet . 

 

He felt something give in his helm as fluid filled and blocked his audials turning the world around him terrifyingly quiet.

 

It was fine. Nothing permanent. He knew exactly how he would treat this on a patient. Despite this knowledge however, he was gripped by a sudden panic and tried to take his mind off what he couldn’t hear now. Ratchet took a deep vent and looked back over at Drift, who was beginning to shake more noticeably now. 

 

Chassis rusting off or not, he had a job to do and he wasn’t about to allow the mech who just saved his life to lay on the ground alone, scared, and feeling like this .

 

Applying as many sensor blocks in his system that he could manage to activate, Ratchet renewed his efforts to reach his patient.

 

With a deep vent he tried moving a leg and found the action delayed, as if he were trying to control someone else’s leg. After a few tries he got his legs to somewhat cooperate, using the tips of his pedes and his clenched fist to push and scrape himself across the ground to where Drift was, vaguely aware of just how much rust was leaking from his joints in the process.

 

As he dragged himself up behind Drift’s back, Ratchet could now faintly make out the sound of vents growing in speed and intensity. Ratchet located his own subspace and carefully tucked the vial inside before reaching over and placing his hand on Drift’s shoulder. 

 

“Drift.”

 

“Drift, it’s me. I’m here.”

 

Words echoing and distant, almost like they were spoken by someone else, Ratchet was aware of the fact he had much less control over the pitch of his voice when he could barely hear himself speak. 

 

He caught a glimpse of a cracked optic as Drift struggled to turn his helm to look behind him. Ratchet turned and maneuvered himself to sit up on his knees and meet Drift’s optics, ignoring the horrible creak he felt in his leg and the sickening burst of fluid that seeped out through his seams before it went completely numb. Yeah he was not getting up again.

 

“Ratch.” A look of relief bloomed on Drift’s face, a faint smile through the dried streaks of rust.

 

“You’re okay…”

 

Ratchet reached down and took Drift’s hand in his once again.

 

“Yup. Still kicking.” 

 

Thanks to what you did. The words got stopped up in the fluid flooding his throat.

 

Drift’s smile faded as quickly as it had come.

 

He had that look on his face again, optics darting around as if something would jump out at them. 

 

He was terrified. And despite Ratchet’s firm grip on his hand, Drift seemed to only shiver harder.

 

“-Ratchet.” He rasped, optics focused back on Ratchet.

 

“What I said earlier-”

 

“Don’t you even start that kind of talk again.”

 

Drift looked as though he were about to object again but was stopped short by a rusted finger shoved in his face.

 

“I don’t have the energy to lecture you right now, not to mention I can hardly hear myself talk at this point-”

 

“But-”

 

“Zip it!”

 

Ratchet relieved Drift’s face of his jabbing finger to replace it with the green vial.

 

“Pharma wouldn’t create a virus like this without an antidote. Which is also why I’m certain it will work. He would’ve made sure of it.”

 

Drift’s optics focused on the vial, not looking convinced.

 

Ratchet put the vial back and cupped Drift’s face with his hand, tilting his helm so that their optics met.

 

“Listen to me. You are going to be okay. We’re going to get through this.”

 

He actually believed himself when he said it this time. 

 

Ratchet began brushing his thumb against Drift’s cheek to clean away streaks of rust, hoping to calm him down and quell the violent shaking. He hated seeing him like this. It felt wrong.

 

“First Aid and Ambulon should be up here shortly to retrieve us and start working on duplicating the antidote. They are both highly capable medics, it shouldn’t take much time at all. We’ll be in good hands, alright? We just need to sit tight a little longer. From what I can tell, we still have some time before the virus would be at the stage to actually kill us and by that point we should be on the mend already.”

 

Ratchet was thankful for his strong medic coding taking over at times like these. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself upright on his own, and right now Drift really needed a firm presence to keep him calm.

 

The mech in question, however, was most certainly not calm at the moment. 

 

Drift only seemed to shake harder at Ratchet’s words. His hand desperately pawing at the ground in the direction of his sword, laying just out of reach.

 

Ratchet let out a sigh. He knew he wouldn’t be able to move to retrieve it, but Drift wouldn’t feel safe without his sword. 

 

He instead opted to nudge Drift’s frame toward the sword, inching him forward until his hand finally grasped the handle. 

 

Drift dragged the sword up to his chest, and for a moment it looked as though he were going to cling to it, but his arm kept moving until the hilt was nudging up against Ratchet’s hand.

 

“Promise me.”

 

Ratchet gave him a puzzled look, processor slow to grasp his meaning.

 

“What-”

 

“Promise.”

 

He nudged Ratchet’s hand again.

 

“If we aren’t okay. If they show up…”

 

“I already told you-!”

 

Drift gave a hard glare.

 

“Please. Please just promise. Promise you won’t let me suffer.”

 

For a moment neither spoke, before Drift added:

 

“And promise me you won’t let yourself suffer. Please.”

 

Ratchet stared down at him. What was he supposed to say to that? Sorry I can’t promise to kill you and then myself? 

 

Why bother saving him just to ask him to kill himself right after?

 

As angry as he wanted to be, he knew Drift wasn’t wrong to feel this way. They both knew what the DJD was capable of, although Ratchet had only ever seen the aftermath of their victims.

 

Drift didn’t want Ratchet to die like that. So he was asking him to kill both of them now while they still had control over how they went out.

 

Right now Drift was completely helpless, barely able to move. If anything were to happen, it would be up to Ratchet. As little strength as he had left, he knew he would be capable of completing Drift’s request.

 

But he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

 

They were going to be fine. He had the antidote. They had help just a few floors down. The DJD were most likely not even on the planet. They would be up and out of there in no time and he would personally make sure they never touched down on this frozen slag-pit planet again.

 

But Drift’s mind was elsewhere. Somewhere terrifying it would seem. And no assurances Ratchet could offer would help him at this point. Except one. 

 

One he had no intention of following through.

 

“...Okay.”

 

He accepted the sword and set it down beside him.

 

“I promise.”

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