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Chapter 14: We'll just have to go together, right?

At first he thought Ratchet was another hallucination. Just like all the other times. A cruel, twisted joke, showing him the one he longed to see so badly.

But he was real.

And this was the one time Drift wished he wasn't.

He couldn't deny that seeing Ratchet gaze down at him the way he did, having him hold Drift so softly, so tenderly, didn't fill him with a sense of relief that he so desperately craved. But Drift also knew how starved he was for any sort of touch that didn't aim to hurt him.

Ratchet shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here.

…But he wanted to see Ratchet again.

Drift wasn't alone anymore. And that made him feel a certain way.

It also filled him with a wave of dread so strong it nearly paralyzed him. Ratchet was here. With him. With the DJD.

He was going to die. And yet Ratchet didn't seem to value his own life in this situation. Ratchet didn't understand. He didn't know everything they would do to him. How awful it was.

And now he was staring at the door, with that look on his face. He was standing up, Drift held securely in his arms.

No. No.

"Ratchet- what are you doing-?" Drift couldn't hide the panic in his voice.

"I can't just sit here and let them kill you."

"You can't- you can't go out there. They'll- they'll…" The words got stopped up in his intake. Drift needed to express to Ratchet how this was a terrible idea, how he was making a mistake. But he couldn't. There was something pressing down, heavy and suffocating if he even let his processor roam too far.

Flashes of his own screams. His sobs. Hot, too hot.

Burning. Scorching. Searing pain.

Horrible numbness.

"Ratchet- Ratchet please. If they- I can't watch what they'll do to you."

"How do you think I feel, Drift?" Ratchet had such a sad look in his optics. "I have to get you out of here. I have to try."

Drift couldn't move, couldn't stop him.

The door wasn't locked. It never was. It sat there, ready and waiting the whole time. Waiting for them to open it.

Just like Tarn.

Ratchet froze.

"Oh good. I was wondering when you'd stop bickering in there." Tarn pushed himself off the wall opposite them, strolling closer.

They had to move, to get away, but Ratchet remained frozen where he was.

"Thought I'd allow you two a moment together. So sweet seeing you hold each other, really. But like all good things, it must come to an end, wouldn't you agree?"

Visual feed scrambled with static as Drift hit the ground hard, sending pulses of pain through his frame so intense he felt himself nearly go offline.

Shuffling pedes. He could barely see them in the corner of his vision, cracked and glitching. Tarn had Ratchet pushed up against the wall. He needed to get over there. He needed to help Ratchet.

He heard something. That voice. That awful, soft voice.

"As I'm sure you're aware, your friend here just so happens to be on our list. Unfortunately, he managed to slip away last we had him. No big deal. We've more than made up for lost time. I had asked my team to refrain from ending his punishment… early. To the best of their ability. As I'm sure you can imagine, it's been very difficult on them."

Tarn had something. There was something in his hand. Drift couldn't see. He couldn't move.

"Now, since Deadlock has suffered a considerable amount already, I was just on my way to bring his mocking existence to the Decepticon Cause, to an end. But then you arrive, Doctor. And I think to myself, how perfect! I still haven't paid you back for that wonderful little virus you left us with, and believe me,"

Tarn leaned up close to Ratchet.

"I'm very eager to."

Ratchet cried out in pain. Energon, he saw energon.

Drift managed to move his arms, dragging himself towards Ratchet agonizingly slowly.

He was on the ground now, Tarn kneeling over him. Whispering his poison. Drift heard Ratchet's cries, saw him writhing.

"Stop! Stop it!" Drift's voice glitched with static, barely carrying through the space.

His cries did nothing to stop it, Ratchet only seemed to thrash in agony more.

He barely made it to Ratchet before being hauled up by the arm and thrown against the wall, collapsing on top of him in a heap. Wheezing vents wracked his frame as he tried to gather himself. Ratchet shook beneath him, a puddle of energon growing steadily from his wrists.

His hands were gone.

"I saw what you did to my favorite Autobot medic. Can't say I'm very happy about that. He was instrumental in supplying me with my increasingly growing need for transformation cogs. Consider this payback."

Tarn reached down and picked up Ratchet's hands, still dripping with energon. "Now I'll have to find a new one. Oh well. I suppose that can wait for now." A sigh as he tossed them away.

"Well, I suppose a congratulations is in order. You get to live a little longer, Deadlock. Or rather, as long as your friend is able to keep you that way, that is. You remember our little game, don't you, Doctor?"

With hardly a moment to recover, Drift felt himself being dragged by the arm, right back into the closet they'd left. The wall was hard and cold as he was dropped and shoved roughly up against it. Sudden pain bloomed in his abdomen. Sharp, stabbing pain. Drift barely held back his cry.

"Now, don't go anywhere. Not that I expect you could. I'll be right back."

Tarn was gone.

Vents came so difficult to him now. They hurt. Hands wandered to his abdomen. Ah, of course. A sword. He was pinned to the wall. Numb acceptance washed over him. This was happening whether Drift wanted it to or not. It was silly of him to think this could've gone any other way.

"No… no no no-" Ratchet stumbled in, energon dripping from his arms. Their optics met. Hopelessness. Despair. Drift had never seen Ratchet look so lost. He looked back down at his arms, completely overwhelmed.

"Ratchet. Ratchet, come here. It's okay." It hurt to speak, he realized. But Ratchet needed him right now.

A thud as Ratchet collapsed to his knees beside Drift, his gaze locked on the sword.

"Hey… come on." Drift lifted his shaking hands and took Ratchet's face, tilting it up to look at him. They were both here and they were both going to die. Not much to be done about it now.

"I can't… I can't fix you anymore, Drift. I can't fix you." Ratchet was panicked. He'd never seen Ratchet like this. It scared him.

"It's okay, really. I got to see you one more time and that's enough." Drift did his best to offer an encouraging smile. It didn't feel genuine.

We'll just have to go together, right?

Words from Ratchet, and yet Ratchet looked so far from believing them. So he hadn't truly meant them. That's alright. Neither had Drift.

There was still that silly thought, that little pull in his spark. That maybe they could make it out of here. Maybe they could go on to have something special, just for the two of them. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere warm and bright.

But the more he held onto that, the more it would hurt to lose it.

There was that small chance Ratchet could make it out. He could get up and run if he tried. But Drift also knew Ratchet wouldn't abandon him, no matter how much he begged him to.

Drift's thoughts went to the sword stuck in him. He could pull it out, end all this quickly. For the both of them. If he didn't, then Ratchet would suffer. And he was all too familiar with how that felt.

But the image of Ratchet with Drift's own sword impaling his spark flashed through his processor. The guilt for something he hadn't even done still tore at him so intensely. Drift couldn't. He couldn't kill Ratchet. And now the heaviness of his own request of Ratchet, delirious from the effects of the virus or not, truly weighed on him.

Drips of energon echoed in the quiet. Optics wandered to Ratchet's stumps. That looked painful.

"Let me see?"

Ratchet looked down at his arms numbly.

"Please, Ratchet. Let me patch you up, at least to stop the bleeding. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

Drift released Ratchet's face to paw his hand towards the tools left lying just out of reach. The strain pulled at the sword, making him wince.

"Stop it. Stop moving. You'll hurt yourself." Ratchet seemed to compose himself somewhat, using his pede to slide the tools towards Drift's outstretched hand.

Drift vaguely heard Ratchet grumbling something about infection under his breath, but the bot held his arms up for Drift to take. He instructed Drift through it, all while avoiding meeting his optics. A few misplaced movements had Ratchet wincing in pain and Drift felt his spark lurch.

"Hey. Don't worry about it. You're doing great. Honestly should've recruited you to the Medibay sooner."

There was a cheeky reply on the tip of Drift's glossa, but it was drowned out by the growing pain in his frame.

"…Someone like me isn't meant for saving lives, Ratchet."

Ratchet moved as though he intended to take Drift's hand in his own, before stopping as he remembered he couldn't.

"You saved mine."

Coolant built up behind his optics, blurring Drift's vision. Damn it, now he wouldn't be able to finish. Ratchet started to pull away, but Drift grabbed him suddenly.

"Wait! I'm… I'm not done yet." How much longer did they have before Tarn came back? He didn't want to think about that.

There were a few scraps of cloth sitting in the pile of tools. Drift took Ratchet's arm and wrapped the end up as carefully as he could manage with still shaking hands. After finishing the second arm, Drift held it in his hands, the cloth getting wet from coolant dribbling down his faceplate.

"You were wrong, Ratchet. You're going to lose your life because of me." Drift looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry..."

"What're you apologizing for idiot? I'm the one who willingly waltzed into the DJD's ship and absolutely botched this half baked attempt at a rescue."

"Yeah, you really did, didn't you…" Drift sighed and let go of Ratchet's arm.

Ratchet was looking at the sword lodged in Drift again. That look on his face. Drift hated seeing it. Hands cupped Ratchet's face once more.

"Hey. If I'm not allowed to feel bad, then you can't either. This is outside both of our control now. Whatever happens to me, it's not your fault."

"Then whose control is it? Primus?" Ratchet looked so defeated. Even his sarcasm came across hollow and flat.

"I suppose it has to be."

An arm raised to Drift's face before lowering slowly. He could see the pain in Ratchet's optics from not being able to use his hands.

"Do me a favor then. Ask him to watch over this reckless idiot I know. To keep him safe."

Drift leaned forward slightly so that his forehelm touched Ratchet's. "I will. But I happen to know of a reckless idiot myself. I'll have to add another name to that request."

A jolt of pain through his abdomen had him pulling back suddenly with a groan.

Ratchet was quick to look Drift over, making movements with his arms as if to help him before pulling back and cursing. He looked so frustrated, so conflicted. Drift wanted to reassure him again, but the pain was starting to get unbearable and speaking was already so difficult.

There were tears forming in Ratchet's optics. Ratchet never cried. This was so wrong.

"Ratchet… it's okay… I promise…"

"No it's not!" Ratchet's vents hitched and stuttered. "It's not…"

Heavy pedesteps from down the hall had Drift's chest tightening uncomfortably. Heavy, suffocating panic overtook him once again. Ratchet's wide optics met his. He looked so terrified.

Drift's hand trembled over the sword. He couldn't let Ratchet go through any of the things Drift did. But he couldn't bring himself to pull it out. He couldn't hurt Ratchet. Not again. Never again.

Darkness started to pull at his processor as his arms went slack. Drift was going to pass out again. No… not now-

He fought for control of his frame, managing to lift an arm weakly, desperate to touch Ratchet just once more. Maybe even for the last time.

Fingers just barely brushed Ratchet's plating before falling limply once again.

The glow of red optics in the doorway was the last thing he saw before succumbing to the black nothingness.

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