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Chapter 15: And wasn't that a nice thought?

"Well now, this won't do."

Ratchet was roughly kicked out of the way as Tarn made his way up to Drift. He hit the ground hard, vision doubling in his feed.

"Frail thing, isn't he? I can see being with the Autobots made him weak. Couldn't even handle a little pain. You should've heard him, the way he cried and begged. It's pathetic, really. Always the stoic ones that crumble the quickest."

Tarn had his claws on Drift again, yanking his helm up by the finials as he brought his mask in closer. "Don't see why you'd want him back so badly. A warrior that can't stop fainting? What use is he to you now?"

"Shut up. Get your hands off him, now. " Ratchet lifted his helm up off the floor, trembling with barely contained rage. Arms shook as he tried to prop himself up, but the pressure on his wounds was too much and he collapsed again. "You don't know anything about Drift."

"Oh, on the contrary, I do. And you know what else?"

Clawed hands closed around Ratchet's neck, having now abandoned Drift. Tarn pushed him down harshly and leaned in close.

"I don't think you realize the position you're in here, Doctor."

A strangled scream forced itself from Ratchet's vocalizer. He could still feel the white hot knives digging into his spark even after the words passed through Tarn's mask.

"I suggest you get your act together before I change my mind about your friend. We could always just keep him. Perhaps give Kaon a new pet. I'm sure he'd like that."

His neck was released as the tank backed off, leaving Ratchet to gasp in pain on the ground.

"And don't think I've missed the way you look at him. You care deeply for him, don't you? What is it? Love?"

Hands toyed with the hilt of the sword lodged in Drift's stomach, before Tarn fully closed his fingers around it.

"I'll tell you what love gets you."

The sword was yanked out and promptly shoved roughly right back into the wound.

"Pain."

Ratchet let out a cry as he curled in on himself, spark twisting horribly in its casing.

"Oh, that's right, it hurts, doesn't it? It hurts. It burns and it aches."

Drift was repeatedly stabbed, creating new wounds in his arms, his shoulders, his thighs. His helm hung limp, no reaction.

Ratchet tried to hold back his cries with each stab of his spark, keeping his gaze locked on Drift's face from where he lay on the floor, desperately hoping the mech didn't wake during this onslaught. He'd been through enough pain already.

"I'm very familiar with how awful it is. To care for someone so much it kills you inside. And when they don't return those feelings? You know how that feels?"

A claw paused over Drift's chestplate.

"Or when they get ripped away from you?"

His Autobot badge was torn off and discarded on the ground, leaving deep gashes behind.

"It hurts. Deeply. Intimately. In the most awful ways you can imagine."

The sword twisted in Drift's mangled thigh, fresh waves of energon flowing with each jerk of the blade.

"Stop it! Stop!"

Pushing his own pain down, Ratchet threw himself onto Tarn, trying to wrap his arms around Tarn's to no avail. He was thrown off with ease.

"Oh? Looks like we're at strike two, already. Wasting all your chances Doc, and for what? It's not like he can feel anything right now."

A sharp kick had Ratchet tumbling back over to where Drift was.

"But no, you're right, silly me. I should wait until he's awake. What good is punishing someone who isn't aware of it?"

Stomping pedes approached. Ratchet felt himself yanked up into a sitting position. The sword was pulled out of Drift and plunged straight into Ratchet's leg. He couldn't hold back the cry of pain. Energon gushed from Drift's thigh. That was bad.

The med kit Ratchet had brought in was dumped in front of him. How considerate.

"You should probably get that, Doctor. Don't want him fading on us. After all, once he's gone, you're up next." With his work done, Tarn left them once again.

Ratchet wanted to scream.

The puddle of energon beneath Drift only grew by the second.

And Ratchet had no hands.

He desperately fumbled with the med kit, somehow catching the release and getting it open. Maybe he couldn't grasp the tools, but he could put pressure on the wound to slow the flow of energon. It took several tries, but he managed to pin a wad of gauze between his stumps and drop it onto Drift's thigh. Arms pressed down as hard as he could, biting back his own horrible throbbing.

Drift jolted. Optics flickered on. He made a strangled noise.

"Drift? I need you to stay still for me. You're probably going to be in a lot of pain in a moment. I'm going to try to lower you onto the floor now."

Drift only stared at him wide eyed in response as he struggled to vent properly.

"…Ratch-?"

Drift lurched forward suddenly, heaving up energon. Ratchet caught him with his own frame, guiding Drift's helm to his shoulder. "…What's happening to me…?" His voice shook.

"…You're bleeding, Drift. Just hang on. I'll take care of it."

Drift flinched against him. "Your leg-!"

Scrap. He saw the sword.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. That sword has done far more damage to you than it has me. Let's get you on your back now."

Arms wrapped around his frame, Ratchet shifted Drift to the side, but slipped up and the mech hit the ground with a yelp. "Scrap!" Ratchet hovered over him, arms shaking. How could he have been so careless? "I'm so sorry, Drift-"

"It's alright, Ratchet." Drift winced. "You didn't hurt me." His voice weakened with every word.

"Bullshit." He needed to get it together. No more freak outs like before. He was CMO dammit, and good at it too. He could do this.

"Alright Drift, I know it's hard to focus right now, but I'm going to need your hands for a bit."

Drift simply nodded shakily before letting his helm fall back on the ground. Another wad of gauze dropped onto Drift's abdomen wound, still leaking energon. Ratchet pushed down, causing Drift to cry out.

Ratchet flinched back. "Sorry-"

Drift only nodded once again and moved his hand over the gauze to hold it down himself. Energon still leaked from his thigh. Internal repairs would have to wait. The wounds needed to be welded shut now. Ratchet grabbed the tool with his teeth and pinned it against his arm with the other. He could do this. It was fine. He could do this.

Ratchet never flinched. He didn't know why he was so shaken up suddenly. It wasn't as if he'd never treated Drift before.

He knew he shouldn't have kept repairing Drift after they'd become… whatever it was they were. It was a conflict of interest. He knew that. And he was certainly seeing why that was now. Every pained noise from Drift, every flinch had Ratchet's spark twisting and twisting, nearly as badly as Tarn's words. The thought of causing Drift any more pain, even if it was to help… It made him hesitate. And Ratchet couldn't afford that right now.

The welding tool was wedged in his elbow, handle sticking out. Ratchet took a deep vent and rammed his stump straight into it. He bit back the scream. Energon bloomed into the cloth covering around it. That would definitely cause complications when it came time to replace his hands. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping Drift alive.

Optics dimmed, Drift's gaze was unfocused and distant as he trembled lightly. He had stopped speaking some time ago. With the amount of energon he'd lost, Drift had to be in agony.

"Stay with me, Drift. Stay with me." Ratchet's shaking arm made its way to Drift's face once again, only to pull back with an ache in his spark.

Their optics met as Drift raised a hand up weakly for Ratchet to take. A stump would have to do. He felt Drift's fingers close around it.

"This is going to hurt. I'm sorry." Whether he said that more for Drift, or for himself wasn't very clear in Ratchet's mind.

The pain patches tucked in his med kit were useless in this situation. And a steady hand was needed in order to hook up into Drift's medical port, which neither of them had at this point, so there was no way for Ratchet to minimize the pain.

Holding the welder up, Ratchet flicked it on with his nasal ridge and brought it up to Drift's thigh. He hesitated, arm beginning to tremble. What was he doing? The longer he waited, the more Drift would bleed out, and the more pain he'd be in.

He could do this.

Ratchet touched it to the wound. Drift screamed.

---

Drift was in agony.

Vents cut through him, sharp and shallow, not cycling enough air through no matter how many he took. Horrible pressure bloomed from his lower body, what remained of it. The feeling of vital fluids leaving his frame was awful in a way he couldn't describe.

It was silent agony. Quiet, slow, and terrifying.

Ratchet moved in a blur above him. Fussing over him. He was distracted, scared, acting in a way that was so unlike how he normally was, it terrified Drift.

Drift needed some sense of normalcy, something familiar to ground him. He couldn't center himself no matter how hard he tried. The room spun, vertigo slammed his sensors. His frame was too light yet too heavy all at once. And there was Ratchet, hovering over him, looking as though he had no idea what to do. A calm, firm voice, giving the impression of someone with it all together, but his face…

Ratchet was falling apart.

Drift wanted to reassure him, tell Ratchet that he wasn't hurting him.

But then that awful, searing hot pain hit him once again and Drift couldn't hold back his scream. He knew it was Ratchet, and that he would never hurt him, but the pain all registered the same in Drift's processor. If he shuttered his optics, there would be someone else over him, shoving their new instrument of torture into Drift's frame to see how he'd shriek this time.

So he kept his optics open, locked on Ratchet. Hand gripping Ratchet's arm, watching tears pour down his face. Listening as Ratchet whispered apologies under his breath through Drift's cries.

The burning heat spread across his frame as Ratchet welded wounds on his arms and shoulders. Drift tried desperately to keep his mind in the moment, but it wandered to places filled with molten lava and sickening jeers. It went to strong grips holding him as he flailed, clawing desperately, trying to get away. That one last kick he'd gotten in before feeling his legs slowly submerged and drowned in his own screams.

Ratchet was saying something, but the words sounded garbled and wrong in his audials. Maybe they'd gone ahead and dumped the rest of him in. It certainly felt like it.

A cable. Ratchet had it dangling from his mouth as he fumbled with a port in his chest. He was trying to do an energon transfusion. He was struggling. Drift tried lifting his hand to help, but found it too heavy to move.

Tears in Ratchet's optics. He was crying. Over Drift. Was he dying? Did Ratchet think this was his fault?

"…Not your fault. Not your fault, Ratchet." The words rasped from his vocoder, nearly burnt out.

Ratchet's arm brushed his face. "Don't talk right now, Drift." A sad gaze in his optics. Drift hated to see it.

With a surge of will, Drift lifted his hand up and took the end of the cable hanging over him. A command opened up the port cover, albeit much slower than he would've liked. His trembling grip kept missing the port, he couldn't get it in. Ratchet's arm pressed against his hand, carefully leading it until he felt something snap in.

Ratchet sat over him, arms pinning the other end of the cable, trying to get it into his own port. He needed help. Drift could help. He leaned up towards Ratchet, but the sudden motion made him dizzy and sharp pain shot through his frame.

"Idiot. Don't try to get up."

Growls of frustration, curses under his breath. Ratchet was getting more and more stressed with the cable. The med kit was knocked over in a fit of anger, scattering the tools across the floor.

"Let me help. I can help."

"You can't help, Drift. You're... I have to do this." Ratchet's vents were erratic, he was panicking.

Drift reached up towards him and tugged on the cable until Ratchet finally conceded, leaning down into Drift's space. His shaking hand couldn't seem to get the cable in right. Ratchet tried to guide him again, but couldn't see and pushed him the wrong way. It was difficult to hold his arm up so long, the joints began to lock up, but finally something snapped in place and Drift lowered it.

Almost immediately Drift felt something coming through. His frame eased up, systems acclimating to the energon flow. He hoped Ratchet wouldn't give too much.

"Sharing energon, isn't that just sweet?"

Clawed hands ripped the cable right from his chest.

"Well, look who's awake now. And looking much better."

A pede kicked Drift hard, sending him tumbling across the floor until he hit the wall. Systems nearly shut down from the impact.

"Good. I was worried we might lose you without even ending your punishment on a good note. Then your friend would've had to make up for it. I'm sure you wouldn't want that."

Drift was vaguely aware of Tarn approaching where he lay heaving on the ground, the pain too intense to focus properly. The tank's shadow swallowed him up as he crouched down over Drift.

"Originally, I was going to carry out your final punishment myself. I figured this would be a fitting end for you," A hand gestured at the sword stuck in Ratchet's leg. "But since you're a special case, I'll let you choose."

Quiet hums could be heard as Tarn began caressing Drift's finial softly. He tried to flinch away until a hand held his helm down sharply, pressing it into the floor as the other continued its gentle strokes.

"Who would you like to carry it out, hmm? Tesarus hasn't gotten much of a turn with you yet. Although, it would probably end a bit too quickly with him. How about Vos? You remember him."

Drift's vents picked up against his will, making his frame tremble. Regret sank in. Maybe he should've used that sword when he had the chance. The hand on his helm tightened down, digging into him. Drift bit back the noise that nearly escaped his intake. Tarn went on running his fingers along as he hummed louder.

"Kaon. You both know Kaon. I'm sure he'd love to get another round in."

In a panic, Drift craned his neck to try and get a glimpse of Ratchet. Their optics met briefly. His locked onto ones wide with terror, lost and hopeless.

"There's always Helex. You know, he was just telling me he wanted another go with you-."

Drift didn't notice he'd blanked out until coming back, shivering violently and gasping under Tarn's hands.

"I don't want to have to repeat myself again, Deadlock. What will it be?"

"Just… just kill me…" The words barely made it out of his throat.

"Mmm no, Deadlock, dear. That's not how we do things around here." A hand tenderly held his chin, tipping Drift's face up to look at Tarn. "I thought that would've been clear from your time here with us, but apparently not. Being on the list isn't just an execution order, it's a call for punishment, if I hadn't mentioned that word enough times to you already. You are being made an example, to keep other Decepticons on the straight and narrow, if you will. It's too bad you didn't stay that path, you would've made a fine addition to our ranks, granted you were a bit too much of a loose cannon for my liking."

Anger boiled up in him and Drift used the last bit of strength he had left to force the words out weakly. "I never would've joined… your group of freaks… Tarn. I killed… to end the war… not to drag out… more suffering..."

The hand grasping his chin tightened, claws digging into Drift's face. "I suppose I may have believed something along those lines at some point in my life as well. Funny how things turn out, isn't it?"

Drift was slammed into the wall behind them.

"But I believe we've steered off topic. I have a question that still needs answering."

Vents got caught in his intake as he choked on them. He couldn't cycle air through, couldn't speak.

"You know what? Take all the time you need. I'm a patient mech."

Drift was slammed back once again.

And again. And again.

Distantly, Drift felt he could hear Ratchet yelling, but the words made no sense.

Energon forced its way up Drift's mouth as he coughed and hacked on it. He held a hand up, trying to push Tarn off to no avail.

"Are you ready to answer the question, then?"

Drift's words came out a garbled mess, flooded with energon.

"Well if you won't, then I suppose your friend will have to answer for you." Tarn released him, letting Drift crumple to the ground. He felt himself dragged along by the arm. Towards Ratchet.

No. No.

Drift was dropped face down beside Ratchet. He couldn't find the strength to lift his helm. Ratchet made a pained noise at the sound of a sword being pulled out.

"Perhaps you'd like to grace us with an answer, Doctor? The more my patience is tested, the less time I intend to give you to patch him up. Or try to, anyway. Not much you can do with those, is there?"

Ratchet didn't answer.

The sword stabbed something. Ratchet jolted with a scream beside him. Drift forced his helm up shakily to see Tarn holding the sword hilt, stuck in Ratchet's leg once again.

"I'm afraid no response isn't an acceptable one. Unless, of course, you'd rather we just keep Deadlock. I was trying to give him the merciful way out, but I could always just kill you right here and leave him to spend the rest of his miserable existence shut away in this closet. Some entertainment is always good for team morale, you know."

"No-!" Ratchet was venting heavily beside him.

"Then I suggest you answer quickly."

Ratchet's helm lowered, turning to look at him and Drift saw a flash of optics filled with anguish. His face morphed into a grimace as Tarn twisted the blade.

"I'll choose! Just- just take me instead!"

"Wrong answer."

Tarn continued twisting the blade in Ratchet's leg, making him cry out in pain. Drift tried to get up, to stop this, but felt a crushing weight on his chassis and his words were drowned in energon once again.

"Getting very close to that strike three, Doctor. I'll give you one more chance. Choose."

"I don't even know the names of your- your clowns!"

The hand left the blade as Tarn held it up to his chest in mock horror. "I'm hurt, Doctor, truly." He leaned up close. "I know you were listening earlier. Choose. Now."

Drift didn't hear Ratchet's answer, but he could guess what it was from the way he felt his frame freeze up in sheer panic.

"Excellent choice, Doctor. But really, some advice. Maybe learn who the names belong to next time."

Tarn strolled back out, probably to go fetch him.

Drift could only lay shaking. Numb.

Why make them choose? To be cruel for no reason? Has he not been through enough already?

Ratchet sat beside him, face buried in his arms, sobbing. Probably feeling as though he doomed Drift to this. Is that why? To torment them one last time?

"I'm sorry, Drift… I'm so sorry…"

Drift managed to reach a hand out and touch Ratchet's leg beside him.

It's not your fault.

He couldn't form the words.

Drift could already feel that his frame's grip on his spark was weak at best. Whatever came next… would probably be it.

So far nearly every vision… every dream… they'd all come to pass. Except one. The one that scared him the most. Maybe if he didn't make it back to Ratchet… maybe that would stop it from ever existing.

It's not like he had a say either way. But what else was new.

Ratchet lowered his arm down to Drift's hand and he closed his fingers around it once again.

You tried your best, Ratchet. Don't blame yourself.

Ratchet looked down at him, coolant running down his face. Drift had so many things he wanted to say, needed to say, but the words died in the sea of energon still creeping up his intake.

I'm glad I got to have you in my life. Maybe we can meet in the next.

Ratchet's arm left his hand and moved up to brush softly against Drift's face.

"I'm sorry…"

Tears dripped from his face as Ratchet leaned down to touch his forehelm to Drift's.

I'm sorry Ratchet. I'm sorry things didn't work out.

Drift barely registered being hauled up and carried out. Arms hung limp as he kept his gaze locked on Ratchet until the door closed behind them.

He barely noticed himself being brought into another room.

Or how that room shook violently.

The confused shouts.

The way he was discarded on the ground with hardly a second thought.

It didn't matter.

How long did he lay there, forgotten?

Maybe he was already dead. Was this the Afterspark?

Drift's only solace was that maybe he'd see Ratchet soon, and wasn't that just a terrible thought?

He'd like to, though. See Ratchet. And Rodimus. Primus, he missed Rodimus.

Someone approached. This must be it, then. He only hoped it would be quick.

"Drift?!"

A soft touch. Gentle.

"Oh god. Oh god. No. Drift… No…"

Someone held him so tenderly. It was nice.

"What do I do? Primus. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry…"

He had to be in the Afterspark. Rodimus was here. Rodimus was dead.

But he was here, cradling Drift so gently.

So it was over then. He was safe.

"I have to- oh god. I need Ratchet. We have to get you to Ratchet."

Ratchet was here?

So he'd dragged Ratchet with him to the Afterspark.

That thought should've been saddening, but Drift only felt relief. And maybe that was terrible of him, but he couldn't bring himself to care at this point.

He wanted to see Ratchet again.

"Don't worry, you're gonna be okay. I'm taking you to Ratchet. You're gonna be okay." Rodimus sounded so scared. Why? They were both dead, what was there to be scared of?

Cradled securely in Rodimus' arms, Drift finally let the exhaustion pulling at his processor take over. He nodded off into the safe harbors of sleep, content that he'd get to see Ratchet again soon, and wasn't that a nice thought?

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