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Chapter 13: I missed you

The first thought that came to him was that Drift was dead.

 

And that alone nearly made his spark go out.

 

But through the dark, Ratchet could faintly make out Drift's chest rising and falling. The sound of vents rattling quietly.

 

The glow of his own optics was the only source of light. Drift was offline.

 

Ratchet dimly lit his headlights as he crawled over, not wanting to trip over Drift again and risk hurting him. He almost immediately regretted it.

 

"Oh Drift… "

 

Expectations had been tempered. Ratchet spent far too long preparing himself for the worst. But, actually seeing it…

 

Trembling hands cupped Drift's face, streaked with coolant and energon.

 

It was bad.

 

Ratchet took inventory of all he had remaining on his frame. A few sparse tools and pain patches tucked away in his wrist compartments. Not much to go off of. He still had to try.

 

Why drop him in here and give him nothing to work with? Did Tarn only do this to torment him?

 

Hands trailed over burns and scorch marks. Upon closer inspection, it was clear someone had been patching him up, to some degree at least. A shoddy job. Anger bubbled up inside Ratchet. Whoever this was had absolutely no consideration for the amount of pain he knew Drift had to be in. Not that he would've expected these creeps to care. It still pissed him off.

 

He found his way to Drift's helm. Scars along the back where a long cut had been welded shut. Their words from back then played back in his processor.

 

Ratchet was going to kill them.

 

Reluctantly his attention turned to the area Ratchet dreaded inspecting the most.

 

The little that remained of Drift's thighs was mangled and twisted.

 

…Melted.

 

The tool in his hand nearly bent from how hard Ratchet gripped it.

 

Drift's legs would have to be completely reconstructed. If the circuits could even be rerouted to begin with. The pathways were warped together, who knows how far back it went. Fixing it would take extensive work. A delicate operation like that… had a likely chance of failing.

 

One that Ratchet wouldn't even be capable of performing. Not with his hands like this.

 

…He should get started on the repairs he could do. Ratchet went to move Drift to his back when he noticed the cuffs.

 

Of course they did. He felt sick.

 

His tools made quick work of them, cuffs opening with ease. Drift was lowered down onto his back, Ratchet took care not to jostle him too much. He held Drift's hands in his own for a few moments, before setting them down by his sides.

 

There wasn't much he could do, not without risk of infection on this dirty floor. Still, Ratchet patched up what he could, pushing through the tremors in his hands. Now wasn't the time for them to fail him. Not here. If he could ease even just a little of Drift's pain, then by the Pit he would.

 

Ratchet sat back, slumped against the wall. There wasn't much space in the room they were locked in. Thinking on it, he hadn't actually checked to see if it was locked. Probably wasn't a good idea.

 

With Drift in this condition, any attempt at escape would be extremely difficult to pull off. And stupid.

 

Then again, he'd had similar thoughts about coming in here and now look where his aft was.

 

His thumb cleared away the residue on Drift's cheek. He'd do it again, even knowing how it turned out.

 

Drift was still offline, his expression strangely peaceful given the circumstances. Ratchet carefully moved him to rest in his lap, keeping an arm under Drift's waist to angle his thighs off the floor. The other supported his neck as Ratchet tucked Drift's helm into his chest. He shouldn't have to lay on the cold floor. Not anymore.

 

The soft purr of Drift's engine ran against Ratchet's chassis. If he turned off his visual feed, it was almost as if they were miles away from here, huddled together under a warm blanket as Drift, barely awake, told Ratchet way more than he needed to know about some phony healing crystal he'd picked up.

 

That thought brought a twinge of pain in his spark. They might never get to share a moment like that again.

 

"Drift." The whispered word sounded much louder in the painful silence. "Drift, please wake up."

 

He needed Drift to see him. To know he wasn't alone. If Drift died convinced he was here with no one but those slaggers, Ratchet would never forgive himself.

 

He didn't know how long they had. Every second had to count.

 

"Wake up, you idiot. I'll start saying sappy things again if I have to."

 

Shifting movement in his arms. A pair of optics blearily looked up at him.

 

Drift had a look in his gaze. Broken and desolate, like he'd given up on living.

 

"Hey. I'm here." Ratchet set Drift's thighs down on his leg, careful to keep it propped up off the ground. Fingers brushed the side of Drift's helm as he cupped his face. "I've got you."

 

It seemed to take a moment for Drift to process his surroundings. His optics slowly went wide as he stared at Ratchet. Their gaze held for a few moments before Drift turned his helm towards the door and dull realization set in his features.

 

"I'm sorry." That's all Ratchet could bring himself to whisper. "I'm sorry, Drift."

 

A hand softy brushed his face. Drift held an arm up, touching his palm to Ratchet's helm. A ghost of a smile on his lips before it vanished all too quickly. He still hadn't spoken a word.

 

Optics flicked to Ratchet's leg, still propped up. Drift went still, a distant look on his face. Ratchet gently turned Drift's helm away from what remained of his legs.

 

He couldn't bring himself to say it would be okay. Ratchet couldn't lie like that.

 

"We'll build you new ones." His voice was quiet and scratchy. "Even better than the ones you had before."

 

Drift had a sad look. Melancholic. Unconvinced.

 

New legs or not, it wouldn't matter much if he couldn't use them in the end. And that's if they even got out in the first place.

 

"Ratchet." Drift's words came out rough and faint as though his voice were nearly gone.

 

"What are you doing here?" There were so many emotions in his EM field. Relief, sadness, longing, frustration. A lot of frustration.

 

Ratchet took Drift's hand in his own, running his thumb over the top. "What do you think? I'm here for you. Can't say I'd track down the DJD for anything else, that's for sure."

 

So many things passed through Drift's face as he fought to find the right words. "You're- you're… stupid-!" Voice crackled as his vocoder struggled to keep up.

 

Drift shook in Ratchet's arms as his vents became erratic. "Why would you do this? Don't you know what they'll do to you? You should've stayed far away from me. Now we'll both die, can't you see that?"

 

"I'm not letting you die alone, Drift."

 

"Well maybe I wanted to."

 

Not even Drift could make that lie convincing. The longing in his optics gave him away.

 

"Well," Ratchet moved his hand to Drift's face. "I'm not letting you."

 

Drift was right. He was stupid for trying something so reckless. He didn't care.

 

"I told you before, Ratchet. I'm cursed. What that bot said was true. The more I run from this, the worse it'll be. I thought at least if I was here alone, then you and everyone else would be spared." Drift clenched his fist. "But no, apparently not even that much can be changed. Not if your stubborn aft hunts me down knowing you'll die if you do."

 

"And like I told you before, I don't know what else you expected." Ratchet hugged Drift closer to his chestplate. "Personally speaking, I'd like to tell 'fate' it can kiss my aft. But like I said… if it really is inescapable, then I guess we'll just have to die together."

 

Drift glared at him for a few moments before his expression broke and he lowered his helm to lay on Ratchet. Soft strokes along Drift's arm had him easing up, slumping further into his embrace.

 

Ratchet rested his chin on Drift's helm, continuing to massage the speedster gently.

 

"…I missed you." The words were so quiet, Ratchet barely caught them.

 

Drift wrapped his arms around Ratchet tightly. He started to tremble.

 

A sob.

 

"It's been so horrible, Ratchet." His vents caught in his intake. "So horrible."

 

Ratchet carefully placed his hands on Drift's back as he shivered violently. Any words of comfort died before they could leave his mouth. There was nothing he could say.

 

"I felt so alone."

 

Ratchet rested his cheek on the side of Drift's finial. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have let this happen to you."

 

"No. No it's not, Ratchet. They were going to get me sooner or later. And now I've brought this horrible fate on you."

 

"Hey, I've got my own free will in this situation. I brought myself here."

 

"Which was really stupid of you." Drift's voice was muffled from where he had buried his face in Ratchet's shoulder.

 

"…I know." Ratchet released a sigh.

 

He eyed the door ahead of them.

 

…If they were going to die horribly, might as well make it worth something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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