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Chapter 11: He didn't want to remember

There was a searing pain in his abdomen. Drift tentatively touched it. Fabric?

"…Ratchet? Are you there?"

"Ah, careful! I had to attempt the repairs myself- wasn't able to find a medic." An unfamiliar voice. Drift opened his optics.

He was on a slab in what appeared to be an office. Dim lighting, no windows. A large curtain in the center of the room. Someone sat beside him, holding a datapad. Primal Beads hung around his neck.

"You passed out during our session. I believe it was a nightmare, unfortunately you scratched yourself up quite a bit." The bot readjusted his seat next to the slab. "Shall we continue where we left off?"

Drift propped himself up on the slab, rubbing his optics to clear the blur away. That wasn't Ratchet.

"Sorry, but um…" The other bot looked up expectantly. "…Who are you? Where's Ratchet?"

"You may not remember, but we've had this conversation quite a few times already. You came to me on your own. Been suffering from a bit of memory loss-"

"I know that." Drift pulled at the wrappings tied around his middle. Slag, that really hurt.

"I also know that Ratchet was with me. Where is he?"

The bot clasped his hands together. "Oh, right! Ratchet! My bad. Yes, your friend was with you. He wanted to respect your privacy. I believe he's waiting in your shuttle until you're finished."

"…Oh." Shoulders sank slightly as Drift sagged on the slab. He figured Ratchet would stay with him. Maybe Drift had told him he wanted space? Or he'd probably gotten sick of playing nursemaid to the bot that couldn't stop fainting. Ratchet deserved some time to himself. Drift was just selfish for assuming he'd be with him all the time.

…What was he doing here again?

"Froid, by the way. I'm sure you've heard of me. " Froid extended his hand. "We were discussing your recent troubles."

Recent troubles.

That seemed familiar. Drift was certain something had happened… recently.

The question was what.

The hand he took in his own was strangely cold. "Right. Unfortunately, I don't really think there's much to discuss."

"Oh on the contrary, you told me quite a bit."

"…I did?"

Something about all this made him extremely uncomfortable. Not to mention the huge security risk this ran. Drift had access to information. Important information. Especially given his prior command position on the Lost Light. If he was just blabbing who knows what with having no memory of it afterwards…

Ratchet wouldn't have just left him with a stranger knowing Drift was having memory issues. Something was off.

"Listen, I appreciate you taking the time to help, but I think I should be getting back." A small wince escaped him as Drift shifted on the slab. "Should probably have Ratchet take a look at… whatever happened here." Drift gestured at his abdomen. That was definitely not a scratch.

"Right. Of course. Wouldn't want to keep you. I could call him if you'd like, let him know you're ready to be picked up. You probably shouldn't leave on your own, with all the fainting and whatnot."

"Oh, uh. Sure. Thank you." Drift absently noticed he wasn't able to use his comms.

Don't panic. It was probably just a glitch from falling so frequently.

"And payment? I'm assuming I need to reimburse you for the appointment."

Froid waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's all taken care of. You've done plenty."

Drift was getting thoroughly creeped out. The absence of his swords made him jumpy. Curse his stupid fainting- Ratchet must've removed them to keep him from impaling himself by mistake. He swung his legs over the side of the slab. The sooner he got out of here the sooner he'd feel at ease.

"Oh there's no rush! Feel free to lay down until your friend gets here. We can continue the session until then, free of charge."

Drift laid back hesitantly. Best not to alert him to his suspicions. There were at least four things in his line of sight to be used as potential weapons. Five, if he really got creative.

Problem was, would he even be able to reach them without crumpling to the floor unconscious?

Curse his stupid fainting.

"So. Where we left off. You were just telling me about the DJD."

Energon lines ran cold. Why would he be bringing up the DJD? Drift was not comfortable with the thought of his fears being common knowledge.

"What about them?" He kept his voice even. Don't give anything away.

Froid scooted himself closer. "You were telling me all about them. Couldn't shut up about it."

That couldn't be right. It couldn't be what happened to him. But why would he bring it up so much? Is that why Ratchet reacted the way he did? Because he had a run in with the DJD? But Ratchet would've never kept something like that from him.

…Would he?

"Maybe we should discuss something else. Nobody likes talking about the DJD."

Another burst of cold in his energon lines, this time accompanied by a sharp jab.

"Mmm no, I think we'll stay on this topic, if it's all the same to you." A needle was tossed to the side. Where did that come from?

Nausea flooded his systems. Drift tried to sit up, but his vision swam. He felt weak and dizzy. A hand pushed him back down.

"I don't normally go through all these precautions, but after being told about your memories? Wow! Yikes. Not taking any chances with you."

Drift was vaguely aware of something wrapping tightly around his leg. He was being restrained.

"In my line of work, you can always tell those who fear being hurt the most. Usually the ones loaded up on weapons." A sharp tug as his wrist was tied down. "Why else would you need so many?"

Drift felt as though he should be panicked, but he only felt numb, as though this were happening to someone else. Frame unresponsive, he could only lay immobile, shaking as his optics remained locked on the ceiling.

"I heard you were acquaintances with my old pal Rung. Sweet guy, but we never quite saw optic to optic. He didn't approve of my methods." Another sharp jab in his side. "And see, that's why he's stuck as a nobody on a ship full of rejects. Me on the other hand," His other wrist was pulled down tight. "I'm raking it in. Wealth, fame, the whole nine yards. Amazing what a little skirting around the edges of morality can get you in life. But, I'm sure you know all about that, Deadlock."

Froid poked his helm out into Drift's visual feed and snapped his fingers in front of his optics. "Hello? Hmm. Might've drugged you up too much. Oh well. Never can be too careful."

Drift couldn't respond. He couldn't move.

"Unfortunately with the my resounding success of my career, comes a few sacrifices here and there. To be more precise, my patients. Not all of them come out the other side alive. It's a shame, but hey- that's just life. It's not fair. I'm sure you know that. You were there before the war. You should know better than most how awful it can be to exist."

How much did Drift tell him? He was going to be sick.

A cold hand patted his cheek. "Hey, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not out here murdering all my patients. I wouldn't have a job then, would I? It's a matter of situational assessment. Would this person serve me better as a customer? Or as fuel for my friend that reads their memories for me? And to be clear- he's not directly killing anyone, that just seems to be an unfortunate side effect to having deeply buried traumatic memories wretched to the front of the consciousness. Those are his favorite. Fortunately I have found a way to stretch the process out a bit longer before the victim's spark ultimately gives out. It's the little victories that count."

"…You…really talk… a lot…"

Drift felt hands cup his face. "There you are! Was worried for a minute you'd started to float away on me. Need you down here for this to work."

Froid grabbed the head of the slab, pushing it forward, towards the curtain partitioning the other half of his office.

There was someone else in there with them.

The curtain pulled back to reveal a cell. The bot inside was right next to him. Horrifying grin. No optics-

Drift desperately tried to move. His frame refused to respond.

Froid pulled off the Primal Beads hanging around his neck. "Sunder here can look through anyone's memories just by looking at them, isn't that fascinating? He's already browsed through yours. Told me just about every notable event in your life. Very handy trick for the work I do. The patient feels nothing and I get the information I need. Makes my life so much easier. " He walked around the slab, sticking his hand through the bars. "But see, just taking a peek doesn't do much for him. So now he's just going to have a little snack."

Immediately Drift felt a crushing weight in his chassis as the bot pressed his face up against the bars, staring down at him. Optics locked in place, he couldn't look away, gaze stuck in those horrible eyes above him.

Memory, after memory, after memory, after memory- it wouldn't stop. Images flashed through his processor. Horrible images. Horrible, horrible images. So vivid. So real.

It was too much. It was too much.

"What's this, Drift? Asking your friend to kill you? How could you do something so horrible? He probably hates you. He definitely hates you. After the life you led, you seriously think he'd do anything but hate you?"

Coolant poured down his face. Drift couldn't block out that horrible gravelly voice as the bot ripped straight through his processor. It was all so awful, so painful.

"Oh? And what's that? You like him? Love him? Disgusting. So you decide to kill him. Might as well, not like he'd ever feel the same."

So many images of Ratchet- his sword impaling Ratchet-

Ratchet screaming, begging, sobbing-

Ratchet, cold and dead beside him.

"You think he'd ever love you knowing what you did? You think anyone would? You already know they all hate you. That they all secretly fear you. Because you're just a monster. No different from me. And there's far more energon on your hands than mine."

How could he let this happen? This was all his fault. Ratchet suffered so much. And for what? It's all his fault. Everyone was dead, because of Drift. He's disgusting. He's horrible.

"That's the only language you know anyway- kill or be killed. I can help with that."

Maybe he would be better off dead.

Please… please, just end it.

Make it stop.

"Gonna stop you right there buddy-" The curtain ripped right back, blocking that horrible face.

His spark burned. It ached.

Froid peered down at Drift, staring, studying.

"Awful, isn't it?"

Drift couldn't answer, vocalizer refusing to work. He could only stare ahead, coolant freely pouring from his optics as he shivered. He wanted so desperately to scream, to cry. Something, anything-

"Had to stop him there, otherwise you may very well have flown right off to the Allspark. I've figured out that a few minutes on, few minutes off is the best strategy to keep the victim alive as long as possible. I hope you realize this is nothing personal. I don't mean to drag the suffering out any longer than necessary, but well. You know how it is. Gotta keep him happy. And lucky for you- you aren't going to die. Today, at least."

Drift found his vents hitching, stuttering as his system desperately tried to cycle air through.

"Normally a jackpot like you I'd try to keep as long as possible, but alas your… recent memories intrigue me. I'm sure you're able to remember now, aren't you?"

The only sound his vocalizer could produce was a small whimper.

He didn't want to remember.

A datapad was held in front of his face. Drift couldn't make any sense of what he saw.

"Look at that fat stack of shanix right there. A gold mine. The big leagues. What I've got is nothing compared to this." Froid smacked the datapad with his hand. "And it's all on your head. Can't imagine my luck honestly. The timing is impeccable. I'd be stupid not to hand you over. Besides," He leaned down closer. "If the DJD found out I knew they were after you and let you die, I'd be a dead bot. Worse than a dead bot. I'm sure you'd know."

Drift's optics went wide. Panic flooded his systems as he began to hyperventilate.

That couldn't be right. They were supposed to be dead.

"Oh come on, now. You're going to make me feel bad. I really don't have a choice here. If it was up to me, I'd just let Sunder finish and take you out of your misery, but I don't hate myself that much to get on the DJD's hit list."

A hand on the curtain. It began to roll back. "Also… between you and me, I really want that shanix."

Somehow finding his will to move, Drift pulled frantically at the ties holding him down, shaking the slab.

"Hey, come on. Just a few more rounds and that'll be it. Think of this as a favor. Helping you get your memory back, isn't that what you came for anyway?"

Those horrible blue optics gazed down once again. The pressure in his chest threatened to split him in half.

Drift hoped it would kill him this time.

---

Drift had been left alone. Still tied down, in the dark. Leaving him with his thoughts. And memories. A lot of which he was certain weren't real… but probably would be soon.

Froid and his monster were long gone.

Didn't want to be around when the DJD pulled up, he claimed.

Why not? Didn't have the guts to watch Drift be brutally murdered in front of him?

Who was he kidding.

That wouldn't happen for a long time.

Not if they had put a bounty on his helm.

They would make sure it was long and drawn out.

Weeks? Months?

…

Maybe he could will himself to die before they arrived.

What did he have left anyway?

Ratchet was probably dead.

And it would be his fault.

And if he wasn't dead, then Ratchet was better off without him.

Drift would only be the death of him.

That's all he ever brought. Death.

Idiot. What are you even talking about?

Of course he was losing it. Hearing Ratchet's voice in his head.

Tears pricked in the corners of his optics.

He was never going to see Ratchet again.

Or hold his hand.

Or… tell him how he longed for something closer. He'd come close, a few times, but now the chance was lost.

Ratchet probably didn't feel the same.

Maybe this was for the better.

If he died alone, light years away, then that vision wouldn't be able to come true.

The Lost Light would be safe.

Ratchet would be safe.

Drift would die horribly. Alone, miserable, and in pain. But at least he wouldn't bring that fate on anyone else.

Least of all on the one his spark ached for.

---

Full systems reboot. Fuel level 14%.

Ratchet's optical feed flickered on. Helm throbbing- no… everything throbbing.

What happened? How long was he out?

He pulled himself up on the side of the berth, out of the puddle beneath him.

What was that?

A hand rested over his fuel tank. That's right. He'd been poisoned, hadn't he? And his systems automatically purged the offending fuel out of his system while he was offline. Must've only been a minuscule amount considering the lack of damage warnings blaring at him.

…Why would he have ingested poison?

The memory jolted his processor.

Drift.

Scrambling to his pedes, Ratchet burst out of the room. Everything was the way he'd left it. No sign of a struggle. That gearstick snatched Drift while he was still offline.

Don't panic. Froid couldn't have gotten far. Not while dragging off a whole mech on his own. It was still daylight. He could fix this.

Someone had to have seen him. There's no way he made off with Drift without catching anyone's attention. Especially in a busy port like this. Tourist locations were big sites for reported kidnappings. There had to be somewhere he could go to ask for help.

Ratchet stumbled out of the shuttle. It was a bit of a walk to the main area. He had forgotten how far out he landed. There were no other ships around him before. So unless that creep dragged Drift out into the wilderness, he had to have gone this way. Right?

The local law enforcement office was closed, at least that's what the sign seemed to indicate. Ratchet banged on the door anyway. He'd stay out here until someone got sick of it and listened to him. They thought they were slick- he could see them in there. He could always pretend his universal translator malfunctioned, so of course he couldn't read the sign.

Naturally they just had to go to a mostly organic tourist spot. Most of the locals he spoke to barely acknowledged him. Great, he had forgotten this part of the galaxy saw mechanicals as mindless machines.

The few that had actually regarded Ratchet with a shred of respect unfortunately hadn't even seen any Cybertronians.

"I know you're in there! Please! I need help!" Ratchet hit the door even harder. He'd break it down if he had to.

The organic that eventually opened the door only stared up at him with an uninterested expression. "…Well?"

Slag head.

"My friend was taken by another Cybertronian. I need help tracking him down." The officer's face hardly changed. Time to pretend to be nice. "Please."

A tired sigh as the purple organic handed him a pad of paper and writing utensil. How archaic.

"Write down any defining details of the appearance of your friend and the suspect. And last location seen. We'll add it to the list of outgoing cases."

That's it?

Law enforcement his aft. Always useless. Where was Orion when he needed him?

"Yeah, I need help finding him now. Not 'whenever you get around to it'."

The officer crossed their four arms, leaning against the doorway. "Look, I don't know what you expect us to do. Someone probably mistook your pal for some sort of sanitation 'bot or something."

What?

"Can't you just… I don't know, track him? Use a code, a software or something? You're a computer aren't you?"

Disgusting. Insulting. What did this organic even know? Ratchet wasn't out here asking them to-to mitosis, or whatever it is they do.

"You know what- forget it. I just need access to any security footage. I'll find him myself."

They only shrugged at that, stepping out of the way to let Ratchet inside.

The lackluster technology of this backwater planet put Earth to shame. Their shoddy 'security footage' only consisted of pictures taken at random, with no date or time system whatsoever. Ratchet flipped through them, desperate to get even a glimpse of white plating.

He nearly gave up in a fit of rage, before he caught sight of a white pede in the corner of one photo. Definitely Drift's. And definitely being dragged.

"Where is this picture located?" Ratchet held the photo up in the face of the officer. "Please, I need to know now."

They waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. I know where that is. Come on."

Is this how they treated every kidnapping case? The lack of urgency in their demeanor infuriated him, but Ratchet trudged along after them. He needed to keep a level head. Screaming at everyone around him would accomplish nothing. Even though it was extremely tempting.

The officer had left nearly as quickly as they had shown him to the spot in the photo, leaving Ratchet alone in some dusty alley with hardly any leads.

Ratchet leaned on the side of a building for support. It was getting difficult to walk. He should've refueled first, but the thought of losing Drift scared him too much. Every second counted. He couldn't afford to waste any. Especially when this was all his fault.

But why was his fuel so low in the first place? He could've sworn he had been keeping up with his fuel intake. Maybe not.

It took way too long before Ratchet found something that seemed to resemble a piece of Drift's shoulder guard. And another eternity after that before he figured out where the slag it led.

By the time he found himself deep in some off-putting abandoned building, it was already starting to get dark out.

Metallic scrapes along the floor. Froid had definitely dragged Drift here.

It was dark inside, no lights on anywhere. And quiet.

Ratchet turned his headlights up as bright as they would go, turning over everything he could find.

He called out for Drift, honked his horn, blared his emergency sirens.

Nothing.

Completely exhausted, Ratchet sat on the edge of the slab sitting in the middle of the room he found himself in. He buried his face in shaking hands.

He could only imagine how terrified Drift was. Waking up confused and disoriented with some bot he didn't even know, probably convinced he'd forgotten something important. Having horrible, vivid nightmares. And no one to hold his hand.

Ratchet had one job. One. Find help for Drift. Keep him safe. During a time when he's so vulnerable, Drift was relying on Ratchet. He knew how much Drift hated to feel helpless and unarmed. Weak.

And then he went and let someone just snatch Drift up.

Ratchet might never see him again.

That thought twisted itself into his spark, aching horribly. He didn't want that.

As he shifted, a datapad fell to the ground. It was a bounty.

For Drift.

How could he be so stupid?

If he had any sneaking suspicion the DJD survived at Delphi, he should've gone straight back to the Lost Light.

They were definitely upset about what went down back then.

Hands gripped his helm. He was so stupid.

If they had gotten their hands back on Drift…

They would make sure he suffered for it.

Extended punishment.

No. No no no no-

Ratchet took in a shaky vent. Don't panic. Don't panic.

Drift had to be on the Peaceful Tyranny by now.

Probably still alive. Hopefully.

They couldn't have gotten too far.

Should he try and chase them down himself?

Call back to the Lost Light for help?

He didn't know what to do.

Ratchet stood up shakily. He had to get back to the shuttle. Now.

He'd call the Lost Light. Call Ultra Magnus. He'd send help.

It would be okay. They'd get Drift back.

How long had he been down here? Ratchet checked his internal chronometer for the first time that day.

He'd been offline for three weeks.

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