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Chapter 16: Please stay

"Alright, where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Well, apparently I'm not allowed to see."

With Ratchet's optics shuttered, Drift managed to covertly sneak a glance at the expression he adored so much. Ratchet always made that scrunched up face when he grumbled to himself. Too damn cute.

"I'm not allowed to walk either, it would seem."

"Nope." The boxy frame in Drift's arms shifted as he adjusted his grip. It wasn't often he got the chance to carry Ratchet around like this. Not without jumping through an extraordinary amount of hoops first.

Drift loved a good challenge. Especially when it payed off.

"Doctor's orders. Gotta stay off your pedes for a week."

Drift knew what he was doing. He knew Ratchet did too. Still took the bait nonetheless.

"I can hear your damn cheeky smile you slagger. I wouldn't be in this predicament if someone didn't decide to fake an injury in my Medibay," Ratchet kept talking over Drift's snickers. "-and then trick me into taking time off when there are important things I need to get back to-"

"Maybe you should've actually checked me over before immediately signing off on the work leave form. Probably should've double checked the name too."

"For a strained servo in the leg? The only 'treatment' available is rest. Any medic with half a working optic could've seen your barely concealed limp from a mile away. You're too good of an actor. I should've known you'd never come to me willingly with an injury."

"Have you considered for a moment Ratchet," Low grumbling from the mech in his arms. "that perhaps you should've treated your own 'barely concealed limp' with the same immediate concern you showed to mine?" Drift bumped his helm lightly into the one tucked against his shoulder. "I had a great model to base my acting off of, after all."

"Whatever. Just hurry up, will you? My joints are going to lock up if you carry me around like this all day. And you better have made sure no one passes us in the halls. If anyone sees me like this, you better hope your dodging skills are up to par because I will be throwing things."

"Aw, you wouldn't do that Ratch. Then you'd have to fix me up. Besides, I made sure absolutely no one will see you being carried so daintily. Don't worry-"

"Hey doc! Hey Drift!"

Drift barely suppressed his snort as he exchanged a nod and smile with Tailgate as he skipped on by. Ratchet stewed bitterly in his arms.

"Come on, you know Tailgate, he won't judge." Drift failed to stifle his laugh this time as Ratchet scoffed and crossed his arms in a huff. "I'm sure he'd agree with me that you're cute like this."

"Notice his lack of voicing that thought out loud."

Drift only snickered at that as they made their way into his destination. One last glance back at Ratchet, who had surprisingly kept his optics shuttered the whole time, despite his griping, and Drift could see a light blush creeping across his faceplate. Had no one ever complimented Ratchet like that? He'd have to make an effort to do that more often.

"You can look now, Ratchet." Drift stopped by the assortment of cushions he'd laid out on the floor.

"The observation deck? Really? That's the surprise?"

"Figured since you have to stay off your feet for a bit, might as well have a nice view while you're at it." He gently set Ratchet down on the cushions before laying down on his own set next to him. Ratchet gave a skeptical glance over.

"Just wait. Trust me." A tap of the control panel he'd brought had the lights dimming down until they were shrouded in darkness. At first that's all it was, until his optics adjusted and the faint glow of the endless stars above illuminated the space. Countless galaxies, shimmering, glowing, blinking, as they danced across deep hues of blue and purple and pink. A view that only got more stunning with each passing moment. A quiet gasp beside him had Drift grinning. Ratchet gazed up at the massive windows, completely transfixed and that sight may have been even more beautiful than the one above them.

"I like to come out here sometimes. Just gazing up at the stars." Drift tucked his hands underneath his helm as he looked upwards. "It's beautiful. No matter what planet I've been to, it's always breathtaking."

"Let me guess, it's that meditation thing you like to do." Seemingly snapped out of his trance, Ratchet was turned back towards Drift. Though there was still that little glint in his optic.

"Sometimes. Not always. A lot of the time, I just like staring at them. Easy to lose yourself in it." Drift didn't want to admit how often he'd come up here just for that lately. The visions afflicting him were far more disturbing than usual and clearing his processor was more of a necessity to not collapse under the stress.

Their optics met for a brief moment before Drift glanced away quickly. This wasn't something he could disclose to Ratchet. Regardless of how close they'd become. He didn't want to trouble Ratchet. Especially given the contents of those visions…

Silence persisted between them for a bit before Ratchet spoke up again.

"Is that what auras look like?"

"Huh?" Drift was not expecting that.

Ratchet had a finger extended, pointing up at the stars. "You're always going on about 'auras' and how great they are. Is this what they look like to you?"

"Hm…" Drift settled back down, letting his gaze trail back upwards. "I suppose so. Never really thought about it like that. But yeah. They kind of do, don't they?"

"Huh." Hands folded on his chestplate, Ratchet's gaze was locked on the stars. "I'd bet yours would look just like that."

Drift tried to hide the flush he felt creeping up under his cheeks, probably to no avail. "Awww-"

"Shut up, you." Ratchet grumbled to himself, but there was no real bite behind his words.

A hand snuck over and took Drift's, interlocking their fingers. Ratchet gave it a gentle squeeze.

"…Thank you. I… really needed that break. This is nice."

Drift squeezed back. "Anytime."

"Maybe we could do this again. But do not be faking any more injuries. You're going to stress me out."

"Alright, got it. No more fake injuries."

Ratchet had his finger jammed in front of Drift's face. "No more injuries period, Drift. I'm serious about the stress- you're going to give me spark failure if you don't stop being a reckless idiot." His hand rubbed at his faceplate. "I need to recruit some actual medics so I can transfer your aft over to them."

"And give up control of the Medibay? You'd do that for me?" Drift felt his hand pulled closer to Ratchet as he made a noncommittal hum in response.

"Yeah. I'm surprised too."

Helm turned back towards the stars, Drift released a vent. There was something between them. Something special. And Ratchet wasn't pushing him away. Maybe he wanted it too.

Maybe… this could grow into something even more beautiful.

That thought made him content and Drift held on tight to the hand in his own, soft and warm like the pulse in his spark.

---

Drift woke with his hands empty and cold, dull pain aching across his frame.

Droning beeps. Hushed voices, tense and direct. Shuffling pedes, carting tools about. He was in the Medibay.

"Out, Rodimus."

"But-"

"No 'buts'. Out. Drift is still in no condition for visitors. The last thing he needs to wake up to is some half baked apology from you."

Ratchet?

"I'll have you know I'm captain-"

"And I'll have you know I don't care, co-captain. Out. I'll call for you when he's ready to see you."

"W… wait…" Drift's vocoder popped and hissed when he pushed the words out. Primus, his throat hurt.

"Drift!"

Someone rushed to his side. Was he in a berth?

"Careful, Rodimus. Don't overwhelm him."

Optics onlined to blinding lights overhead and Drift tried to shield them, but found his arms heavy and aching, connected to an assortment of cables.

Rodimus stood beside him, leaning over the berth nervously. "Hey."

"Hey…" Drift's voice rasped and he just knew how terrible he must sound.

"Um. How- how are you feeling?" Why was Rodimus so jumpy? As if Drift would leap out of the berth and tear him to shreds right there.

"Well… I didn't think being dead would feel this awful, to be honest." Rodimus' face fell at that. Was he really that upset? What's done was done. Drift would take some discomfort in the Afterspark over being trapped in that hell ever again.

"Drift… you're not dead."

What?

"If we didn't happen to find you when we did, you…" His optics didn't meet Drift's as he stood fidgeting and wringing his hands. "Look, it doesn't matter, okay? Ratchet fixed you up and you're gonna be alright."

"But… but you're dead, Rodimus. You died." It was so hard to think, his helm throbbed horribly. Nothing made sense.

Rodimus only looked down at him with a puzzled look, concern growing in his features.

"Alright, back up Rodimus. Shoo. Give him some space." A gentle touch on Drift's arm. Ratchet. It was now that he noticed the lights had dimmed down to a more comfortable brightness.

"How are you feeling, kid? Tell me where it hurts. Or comm if you can, try not to strain your voice too much."

"Ratch- Ratchet. I'm… I'm not dead?" If he wasn't dead, then that would mean Ratchet wasn't either. Right?

"Nope. You're alive. For a while there, it… didn't look too good." Ratchet's hand squeezed his arm gently. "You've got a strong spark Drift, it pulled through. You actually woke up a bit earlier than I was expecting. Your auto repair systems are still catching up."

Drift's attention turned to the hand on his arm. "Your hands… are they-"

Ratchet pulled back suddenly and looked away. "They're fine."

"But- your other injuries…" Ratchet's plating was clean, clear of any marks or scratches. That couldn't be right.

Ratchet only looked down at him with a sad expression. "I think you need to get some more recharge, Drift. Rest your processor. We can talk later."

A loudly griping Rodimus was pushed out of the recovery room they had him set up in, with promises that he'd be back later. Something was off, wrong, but Drift couldn't focus enough to figure out what was bothering him.

A heating tarp was pulled up over Drift's frame, higher up than the one covering his lower body, disturbingly numb.

Ratchet's hand brushed against Drift's chin as he patted the tarp down on his chestplate and he wanted so desperately to reach out and grab it, but the sudden warmth enveloped him, lulling his frame into a lethargic state.

"I'm going to give you another dose of medicine, to see if that helps with the pain. There's a button right next to you on the berth. If you need anything at all, just press it. I'll be close by to check up on you."

As Ratchet finished messing with the machines hooked up to Drift, he turned to look back at him.

"Get some rest, Drift. You deserve it."

Wait. Ratchet. Don't go.

Drift was overcome with a deep exhaustion and couldn't find the will to speak anymore, only able to watch as Ratchet began walking away. A shaky press of the button and he stopped hesitantly.

"…Drift? You okay?" Ratchet was back beside the berth, hand hovering over the tarp.

Please stay.

"I can stay with you for a while, if that's what you want."

Drift managed a small nod.

"Okay." Ratchet sat awkwardly next to the berth, expression set in a line. He fidgeted in place, optics glancing around the room. Everywhere but on Drift.

"Can you use your comms at all?"

Concentrating on anything was agonizingly difficult. Drift strained but the only thing his stupid processor wanted was sleep. He needed to stay awake.

"It's okay, don't push yourself. Your systems are still coming back online. It should hopefully be functional in the coming days."

Ratchet sat in continued silence beside him, pretending to look at the machine by the berth. He was probably bored. He shouldn't be obligated to stay with Drift. What was he thinking? And of course he only realized now that he'd been staring and Ratchet was definitely uncomfortable.

Those awful words from Froid's monster crept back to the front of his processor and Drift quickly pushed them back down to whatever depths of hell they came from. Not now.

"Drift." A quiet voice from beside him. Ratchet started speaking again before pausing, gaze locked in his lap.

"I know I said we'd talk later, but I wanted to say it's good to have you back." Drift caught Ratchet glancing up at his legs, before looking back down. Or rather, where his legs would've been.

"I just wish… it was under different circumstances." Another pause as Ratchet rubbed the back of his helm. "And I think you deserve to know… Rodimus told the crew. We know it wasn't you."

Drift couldn't think, thoughts clouded and jumbled. Should he know what Ratchet was talking about? It felt familiar.

"It shouldn't have gone the way it did. I should've…" Hands wrung nervously in Ratchet's lap.

"I should've gone after you. I thought about it. A lot, actually. But I never acted on it. I felt you deserve to know, at least."

Ratchet rose slowly. He was going to leave and that thought filled Drift with a sense of dread he couldn't explain.

"You should really try to get some sleep, Drift."

In a move of panic, Drift extended his EM field, trying desperately to reach out to Ratchet's, but he only pulled it in tight and stiffened in response.

"I'm sorry."

The rejection cut deep in Drift's spark as he watched Ratchet walk away, leaving him alone with his aching pain and thoughts he wanted no part of.

Maybe Sunder was right.

---

Drift collided into the wall as he ran down the corridor. All the dimly lit halls looked the same. His leg ached something horrible, making him stumble, but he couldn't afford to stop. Not now. Not out in the open like this. If they caught him out here again…



Should he go for the escape pods? Was it worth the risk? Was it worth getting found?



…No. Not again.


How much time did he have left? He's wasted too much of it.



Should he grab something to use as a weapon? Was there any point?



Drift stumbled into a dark room, legs shaking to the point he could barely walk. He had to hide. He had to find a spot before they came. What if they were already on their way? If they found him again before he could get hidden…



The room spun as he was overcome with nausea and Drift fell into something hard, the sound echoing. No, no no- That was too loud. They had to have heard it. Vents rattled from his intake. Too loud. Energon deprivation made his limbs jerky and uncooperative. He couldn't get up. Panic suffocated him. They were going to find him at this rate.



Drift dragged himself into a dark space tucked between the cabinet and the wall and curled in on himself, one hand clamped tightly over his mouth to dampen the sound of his vents, hitching out of control. Maybe he'd get lucky and pass out before they inevitably found him.



He couldn't take their sick, twisted games. He couldn't do this anymore.



Optics shuttered tight, Drift curled up tighter as he tried to disappear. Unable to escape into his own mind. All he could see were their faces, his own energon decorating their features.



Please, please just take him away from here. Out of this hell. Someone. Please. No more. No more…



His prayers reached deaf audials.



Cold fingers on his shoulder pauldron.



"Found you. I win."

---

Drift woke up gasping and wheezing.

"Shh. It's alright."

They were going to find him. It was too dark. Too loud. They were going to find him.

"You're safe, Drift."

Drift couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't get up, couldn't get away. Alerts screamed at him. He was trapped.

A figure over him, something in their hand. They already found him. It was too late.

"It's alright."

Something wet and cold on his helm. Drift jolted.

"You're here on the Lost Light, Drift. No one will hurt you anymore. Just a memory purge. You're safe now."

Drift felt some tension leave his frame. Ratchet. It was just Ratchet.

Those kind hands tended to him, rearranging cables, changing out the patches across his frame. Every so often Drift would hear reassuring words, spoken so quietly they were nearly drowned out by the whir of equipment hooked up to him.

Ratchet would come and go and at some point in his delirious state he hardly noticed Ratchet leave at all. A constant presence.

Maybe then he could ignore the imposing figure standing just out of his line of sight.

Ratchet came up to the berth and sat beside it with a sigh. He didn't touch Drift. He'd been careful to make as little prolonged contact as possible. Had Drift reacted badly? He couldn't remember.

"How are you feeling, Drift? You had a pretty rough round of memory purges."

"I'm fine." Primus, his voice still sounded terrible.

Ratchet sat in awkward silence beside him once again. He was still so hesitant. Distant.

Drift pulled his hand out from under the tarp and held it out. Ratchet paused before taking it and holding it gently in his own. It felt different from usual.

Drift's hand trembled. He wanted contact so desperately, but the feeling made his plating crawl. Drift held on regardless.

Ratchet wouldn't hurt him. It was fine.

A small, encouraging smile from the mech had Drift's spark fluttering nervously in his chest. He had to try one last time.

With a gentle squeeze of Ratchet's hand, his EM field casually rolled out, slow and steady this time, not too intense with longing. It barely brushed the edge of Ratchet's before his was immediately pulled in tight and locked down.

The second rejection stung even more than the first and Drift tried not to let it show on his face.

The hand slipped from his, leaving him cold and empty. Ratchet refused to meet his optics.

"…Rodimus brought you something." Ratchet's voice was quiet and reserved. Drift's attention was brought to his hands pulling something from his subspace. "Couldn't bring himself to give it to you face to face."

A scratched up Autobrand was placed on the berthside desk, next to an assortment of energon vials he hadn't noticed until just then.

"…For me?" Drift's hand trailed aimlessly to his chestplate. Tarn must've ripped it off at some point.

"Shouldn't have been taken from you to begin with. But I understand if you don't want it back. I probably wouldn't."

It was cold and hard in his hands, fingers ran over deep scratches. It felt as though it belonged to someone else. This was wrong. Drift set it back down. The sinking feeling in his tanks wouldn't go away.

A soft pat on his arm. "Once you've healed up enough, we can arrange for some sessions with Rung. I think that would be good for you."

A sharp burst of cold through his energon lines had Drift gripping the berth. He felt sick. Flashes of cruel optics and cold hands tying him down. Faint whispers of those casual words in his audials as he could only lay shivering and unmoving.

"Drift? You okay?"

No, he knew Rung. Rung wasn't like that.

…It would be fine.

"Um. Yeah. Sounds good." Drift couldn't hide the tremors from his voice. Hopefully Ratchet wouldn't pick up on it.

Ratchet didn't seem to notice, attention locked on the charts he had pulled up on the datapad in his hand. "Whenever you're feeling up to it, we can discuss your medical reports. It doesn't have to be right now, just whenever you're ready."

He already knew what this was about. Might as well get it over with.

"Now is fine."

"Right." Hesitation. Almost as if Ratchet didn't want him to say that. "The repairs went well, most of your systems are back online and fully operational."

Drift nodded slowly and waited for Ratchet to continue. He didn't.

Hands wandered nervously to his lap, pinching the tarp around.

"Most."

Ratchet took in a deep vent before looking up at him. "Right. Yes. Most of your systems." He seemed to lose his nerve and looked back down. "…I wanted to speak to you about your legs-"

On second thought, maybe he wasn't ready to hear this.

"Ratchet." Ratchet stopped and met his optics. "I… I don't think now is a good time, actually. Maybe later?"

"…Of course." The datapad was tucked away with shaking hands. "Up to you, Drift. It can wait."

Why bother putting off the inevitable? Why was he so scared to hear what he already suspected? If it was something that could be fixed, Drift wouldn't be laying here with no feeling below his waist, would he?

Drift tried to get his vents under control. He didn't want Ratchet to see him crumble. Not now.

Of course his stupid processor decides to trick him into thinking he still has something down there. Showing him the last times he got to use them. All the good it did him then.

Drift could still remember how it felt to just get up and walk where he wanted. Before they stole that away.

…He still didn't know what happened to the DJD. Did he even want to?

Think about something else. Think about something else.

"Ratchet?"

"Hm?" Ratchet hadn't made any move to leave this time, still Drift felt anxious at the thought that he might.

"Rodimus. He… did die, didn't he?"

Some expression stuck between confused and concerned formed on Ratchet's face. "He told me you said something like that."

"But he did. Right? You were there at the funeral. The sparkeater that we found in the ship? Don't you remember?"

There was that look again. Both of them had it. They thought he was losing it. Maybe he was.

"The sparkeater, yes. I remember. But Rodimus didn't die." Ratchet reached out to him. "It's possible the stress is interfering with your memory banks. Do you want me to-"

"No. I know what happened. He died. There's nothing wrong with my memory." Was there? It couldn't be that. Not so far back. The death of his best friend wasn't something that could simply be a glitch in memory.

Then again… what if it was? It wouldn't be the first time his processor fabricated events that never happened. How much in his life could he even believe was real at this point? Is that why Ratchet was acting so strange? So distant? Everything they went through together on the Lost Light… did his mind just create that on its own?

"Has anything between us been real over the past year? Anything at all? Please tell me. I need to know." Drift was getting desperate. Maybe he didn't actually want to hear the answer to that.

One last ditch attempt had Drift extending his EM field again. Ratchet's was kept close to him, but didn't pull away. There was longing. Guilt. So much guilt.

Ratchet refused to look up at him. "Drift… I haven't seen you in months. You left. We sent you away."

Drift buried his face in his hands. The dread building up inside him threatened to spill over. This couldn't be right. It couldn't be. That would be too cruel. Too horrible.

Then again, that didn't ever seem to stop fate, did it?

…No. He refused to believe it. Even if it was true.

There was something different about Ratchet. He was still Ratchet, yes. But also… not.

His aura looked off.

No. Of course. Why didn't Drift realize sooner? This was Ratchet.

But not his Ratchet.

His Ratchet… that was still on the Peaceful Tyranny.

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