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Chapter 17: Scared. Angry. And with something to lose

"Drift- Drift! Please, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"Go back! He's still there! Go back-!"

"What are you talking about?"

Ratchet held his shoulder down firmly. Drift couldn't get up. He had to get up. Ratchet didn't understand.

"Go back! The DJ-" An awful weight in his chest, heavy, suffocating-

"-the ship, Ratchet. He's still on it-!"

His flailing arm was caught by Ratchet. "Drift, stop. Who are you talking about? We're not risking taking you back anywhere near that fragging ship."

"Ratchet! He's still there! He's hurt-!"

"Who?"

"Ratchet- Ratchet is still there!"

"Drift. Drift, look at me." Hands cupped his face, tilting it up to look at Ratchet. "I'm right here. I'm safe. I'm not on their ship. I don't know what sick mind games they played with you to convince you of that, but it's not-"

"No, no you don't get it-"

Drift felt hysterical. He couldn't just get up himself to go back. And of course Ratchet wouldn't believe him. Drift wouldn't have either.

"Drift, I need you to just take a deep vent, alright? Just try to calm down for a minute." Ratchet's hands left his face, but Drift couldn't get his vents under control.

Calm? Calm? How was he supposed to be calm? Knowing what they were probably doing to him right this moment?

"Drift?"

How long had Ratchet been with them? What if he was already dead?

Drift wheezed, chest tight and uncomfortable, it hurt. Primus, it hurt.

"Hey… it's alright. Deep vents, Drift. Deep vents." Ratchet had laid him back on the berth, his hand rubbing gentle circles on Drift's chestplate from where he now sat on the edge. "That's it. Vent in and out. Nice and slow." The scanner on his arm trailed over Drift's frame. Primus, he felt so pathetic.

"He's all alone, Ratchet. He's injured. His hands. He can't… he can't fix himself." Drift's voice was so faint he could barely hear himself. "They have him. They're going to- they're going to…" He could feel the moisture building up in his optics. There was no way for him to express to Ratchet just how horrible they were. How awful. He didn't understand.

"Please, please. I can't lose him. I can't. He went in there for me. And now he's trapped. Alone. With them."

"Drift." Ratchet took Drift's hand in his own. "I'm right here. With you." Drift felt his hand lightly squeezed. "I'm on the Lost Light, not with them."

"No… no. Not you. Someone else."

"Someone else?" Ratchet paused. "…Are you sure?"

If Drift had to bend the truth a little to be believed, then that's just what he'd have to do.

"There was someone else in there with me. He needs help. Please, Ratchet." Drift's optics remained locked on Ratchet's. He only hoped even a shred of the desperation he felt got through. He'd throw himself out of the berth if he had to.

"…Alright." Ratchet broke the contact as he looked away, scratching the back of his helm. "I'll talk to Meg- I'll talk to Command."

He stood up slowly and a light knock at the door had Ratchet whipping his helm around.

"Ratchet. I need to speak with you for a moment." A deep commanding voice came in loud and clear, even from outside the room.

Hardly a moment later Ratchet was already at the door, blocking it with his frame. "Ep! Don't come in here!" He stepped out, door hissing shut behind him. The other voice continued, only slightly muffled through the door.

"I was told Deadlock has recovered and is ready for visitors."

"That's Drift, to you. And he will be ready for visitors when he decides. I thought I told you to get your aft on a medical slab. You're leaking all over the floor." Ratchet spoke in a hushed tone, despite the other's volume. Drift couldn't place why that voice seemed so familiar.

"That's been a bit difficult considering you've hardly let me in the Medibay at all since he was brought in. And not to worry- this energon isn't mine. My injuries are mostly minor."

"Well, congratulations. Good to hear your little torture squad didn't hurt you too badly. Do you even know the condition Drift was brought to me in? Do you? It's a miracle he's even alive right now. And I don't believe in miracles." Drift barely caught the words, but the sharp, cutting edge of Ratchet's tone came through loud and clear.

"That's part of the reason I need to see him. I believe I owe him an apology-"

"You owe him a lot of things that a lousy apology won't fix. You're not going to say slag to him right now. What you are going to do is get yourself on a medical slab before I put you there myself. Drift doesn't even know you're on this ship and you're the last person he needs to see right now. He's been through enough."

Drift felt something in his chest contract. It couldn't be. It couldn't be him.

"…Megatron…?"

A loudly released vent from outside the door. "Dammit."

"I suppose there's no use in hiding it anymore, Ratchet."

He could hear Ratchet grumbling as the large mech made his way in.

Megatron walked up to the berth and looked down at Drift, expression unreadable. Covered in energon.

"Drift-"

"You fought them? The D-" Drift took in a shaky vent."…You fought them, right? That's their energon on you?"

His former Commander stood across from him, wearing an Autobrand and Drift really didn't know what to think about that. So he wasn't going to. There was only one thing on his mind. So best to cut the scrap.

Megatron only hesitated for a moment, looking slightly taken back before answering. "Yes. I did."

"Are they… are they-?"

"Drift. I'm not sure you're in the right headspace to hear about this right now." Megatron spoke with so little emotion it infuriated him.

"Tell me."

If his former Commander took any offense to the demand Drift hissed at him, he didn't show it. "I managed to take a few down, but some escaped in a smaller ship. I only just got back from trying to track them down. If there are any remaining, I don't know."

"Who? Who did you take down? Are they dead?"

Red optics met his. Optics full of what- compassion? From him? Everything about this felt so wrong to Drift.

"…I'm not going to share that information with you, Drift. You aren't well right now."

"Tell me!" Drift gripped his chest. Primus, his spark ached. "I need to know! Please!"

"Please just calm down-"

"No! " Drift gasped desperately. He couldn't vent properly.

Ratchet was on Drift in an instant. "I told you this would be too much for him! He's in no condition for this-"

Drift pushed him back weakly as he struggled to cycle in air. "There's still someone there. On the ship. He needs help."

"If they're- if they're still alive…" Gripping his helm tightly, Drift curled in on himself. "He's still there. Please. Someone has to go back for him." Something that too closely resembled a sob escaped his intake. "I can't get up… I can't fight. I can't help him. I can't- I can't…"

Ratchet's hands were on him again, easing Drift to lay back fully. He couldn't find the strength to fight it.

Megatron's expression seemed to soften somewhat. "Very well. I can go back and check. What does this friend of yours look like?"

Drift couldn't get the words out, exhaustion having snatched them away once again.

"…Megatron. A word for just a moment."

Ratchet left his side to pull Megatron out. Drift strained to catch what was said. Fortunately, he didn't have to try very hard. Megatron seemed to have a problem with voice modulation and Ratchet tended to raise his when he was pissed. Which he very much appeared to be.

"I do believe he's right, Ratchet."

"No, I worry they may have done something to him. Some sort of- of sick mind torture. He was convinced it was me on that ship just a minute ago."

So Ratchet still didn't believe him. Not that he expected any less. It stung regardless.

"No, Ratchet. There had to be someone else. I doubt just anyone would've been able to send that message. And to our specific frequency, no less. Minimus believes it has to have been someone previously on board the Lost Light. At the very least that's what the wording in the message seemed to indicate. There was a sense of familiarity there, not something a stranger would write."

A sigh from Ratchet. "Leave it to you to pull that much from just a few sentences."

"Words have meaning. Maybe you could do better at using them."

"You know what? Out. I can't stop you from going back there and I'm not going to try. But you had better not lead any of your creeps back here."

Ratchet didn't come back in after that.

Drift laid in the berth alone. He tried not to let his thoughts wander to the worst case scenario. They did anyway.

It would be fine. Megatron was going back. He'd find Ratchet. He'd bring Ratchet back.

A rustling just outside the door broke Drift from his thoughts once again. The third time in the past three minutes. Drift sighed. "…Rodimus, I know you're out there."

The door hissed open and sure enough, there was Rodimus, trying to look as though he wasn't hiding outside the room just a few moments ago.

"Oh, uh. Hey. I just got here-"

"No you didn't."

Rodimus stepped inside, hand scratching the back of his helm sheepishly. "Okay, you got me. I may have been hanging out in the Medibay. And I also may have overheard a few things. But I wasn't eavesdropping!"

Drift stared at him, raising an optical ridge.

"Okay, okay! I was." Rodimus held his hands up in mock surrender as he made his way up to the berth and sat beside it. "Just worried about you. He still makes me twitchy. I don't trust him. And then I heard you shouting in here? Had to hold myself back from breaking the door down."

"I'm surprised you managed that much." Drift smiled, and was surprised to find it felt genuine.

"Me too. Honestly, you know I really would have if Ratchet hadn't been here to keep him in line. Next time he stresses you out, I'm knocking his lights out. Count on it." His face turned serious for a brief moment. "You really didn't sound good for a bit there."

Drift caught his gaze wandering to the marks left on his chestplate. He absently placed a hand over it and Rodimus looked away.

"I'm fine, Rodimus. Just got a little worked up, that's all." The rasp in his voice was probably not convincing.

They sat in silence as Rodimus fidgeted beside him. Drift was still in shock that Rodimus was here at all. It didn't feel real. Of course, he knew this wasn't his Rodimus. Even still, Drift was glad to see him again. And he desperately needed a distraction right then.

A sharp invent as Rodimus shifted in his seat. He was getting restless. While Drift quite liked the silence, he was surprised Rodimus managed to stay quiet for so long.

"So… I bet you want to know what he's doing here."

"Not really." He probably should have, but Drift found he only felt apathy towards the situation. "Sorry, Rod. Maybe another time? But I've really heard enough about Megatron. I don't… I don't want to hear about him right now." Even saying the name left a sour feeling his tank. He'd heard it spoken far too many times through that sickly poisonous voice, weaving threads of searing pain in his spark.

"Oh. Right, yeah. Another time." He almost seemed disappointed.

"…Rodimus?" The name came out far quieter than Drift had intended.

Rodimus perked up. "Yeah?"

Hesitation pulled at him. Did he really want to know? "How long… how long have I been here, Rod? How many days since I was brought back?"

"How many days?" Rodimus scratched his face nervously. "Uh, maybe a week? Give or take a few- whoa, hey-!"

"A week?" Drift crumpled in on himself as he gripped his chest again. "He's been in there for a week?"

"Easy, easy, Drift." Rodimus tried to take his hand, but Drift batted him away. "…Is this about your friend?"

Drift could only wheeze in response. God, his chest hurt.

"Oh scrap. Um. I'm… I'm gonna call Ratchet. You really don't look so good-"

"No-!" Drift grabbed his arm, keeping Rodimus from pulling away. "Don't. Please. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine-"

Drift pulled him closer. "Rodimus. I… I need a favor." Taking a deep vent, he managed to push the pain down. He would be fine.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get Ratchet? Or at least get you some pain meds? I'm sure there's something around-"

"Rodimus! Listen to me." He finally got optic contact this time. Drift took another vent before continuing. "I need you to take me to the ship."

Rodimus jolted back as though he'd been shocked. "Whoa! Whoa, whoa. Hold up. The ship as in the DJD's ship? Drift, I am absolutely not taking you back in there. Are you crazy?''

"I need to."

"Look-" Rodimus held his hands up again, as if trying to appease Drift. That wouldn't work on him. "Megatron is already going back. He'll find your friend and bring them-"

"He doesn't know where to look, Rodimus! He's hidden away. All the- all the closets look the same."

"How about you just tell me, and I'll go look for him?"

"I have to show you-!" The twinge of pain was back. Drift ignored it. "I would go myself, but I- I can't, Rodimus." He hunched forward and gripped the tarp covering his thighs. "It's… it's been a week. A week. He's injured. This can't wait any longer. What if he's already…"

"Drift… I really can't take you. I mean, you're…" Rodimus gestured at the machine hooked up to him.

Drift ripped the cables out. And winced. He probably could have done that a little slower.

"I feel fine. I'm done recovering. Please, Rodimus. I have to do this."

A dramatic sigh from Rodimus as he approached the berth with his hands on his hips. "Alright. Fine. You win. Doing this cause I love you." Drift was scooped up into his arms. "But I really hope you realize Ratchet will literally kill me if anything happens to you. Actually… he'll probably kill me either way."

"Thank you, Rodimus."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm the best, you don't have to tell me." Rodimus stopped in the middle of the Medibay. "Wait. If I'm carrying you, who's going to carry your pal?"

"You can program one of the Medibots to follow you with a hovering gurney. New model, Ratchet should have some in the back."

Rodimus looked down at him and narrowed his optics. "How did you-"

"Just hurry up. And hand me that Medibot. I'll reprogram it while you look."

Rodimus kept glancing back at him as he worked. Drift couldn't help but feel he was taking advantage somewhat. There was clearly a good deal of guilt on Rodimus' side of things. Guilt that was meant for someone else. He'd have to apologize to Rodimus later.

"Well, what do you know. You were right." Rodimus pushed the gurney out with his side. "Hm. Won't be able to use a blaster holding you like this though."

"I'll use it."

"But your swords-"

"Gone. On the shuttle. I'll take the blaster." Drift paused. "Two blasters."

Rodimus handed him the blaster on his waist. "Never seen you use one of these before."

"…That might be for the best."

Drift could count the number of times he'd picked up a gun in the last ten thousand years on one hand, yet it still felt like second nature to him. It also brought up feelings. Old feelings, of someone drowning in rage and fear.

But that someone was still there, wasn't he? That scared bot, hiding in heavy armor, throwing himself so hard into a cause that lost its way from what he'd joined for in the first place. Maybe that was still true in a way.

Perhaps it was the fact that Drift had only been called by that name for the past several weeks of his life, but he felt strangely close to Deadlock. Closer than he had in a long time. Scared. Angry. And with something to lose.

"Good thing Ratchet's out right now. Forget making it out of the Peaceful Tyranny, we wouldn't make it out of here alive if he found out. I wouldn't, at least. He'd probably wait until you've recovered before killing you." Rodimus grabbed a blaster off a tray with medical tools while somehow supporting Drift in one arm. "Yeah, he's gonna kill me."

"Well then, I guess we'd better make this count. In memory of your service, Rodimus."

A cheeky smirk from Rodimus as they made their way out. Drift felt a painful twinge in his spark. God, he really missed this.

It was a few hours trip to the ship, according to Rodimus. The Lost Light having stayed within travel distance waiting for Megatron's return.

With each passing moment they grew closer and closer to the Peaceful Tyranny and the trepidation in his spark grew with it. He didn't want to go back. But he had to.

And then Rodimus was walking across some barren, dusty planet to the entrance and Drift felt his vents quicken.

They dragged him kicking, flailing, biting to the entrance of their ship. He wasn't going to make it back out.

Rodimus stopped just outside. "Drift…? Are you sure you wanna do this? I can at least let you rest on the gurney and I'll handle the blasters."

Drift only then realized how violently his hands shook, barely keeping hold of the guns.

"No. I'm fine. That would only slow you down. We need to find him as quickly as possible."

Some unreadable expression flashed across his features and Rodimus held tighter to Drift as they passed through the threshold of the ship.

It hit him in a sudden burst all at once. Heavy, suffocating. The smell, the feel of despair hanging thick in the air. Hopelessness. Horror. They were going to get him again. No. Please, please, not again. Not again-

"Drift? Drift!"

Shouts from Rodimus muted and muffled over the loud, wheezing vents echoing through his audials.

"Yeah, no. I'm taking you back to the shuttle."

Rodimus was going to leave.

"No! " Drift pushed down the nausea overwhelming his senses and the screaming alerts telling him to get out-get out-get out-

"You really don't look so good, Drift. I'll find your friend myself. Don't worry-"

"Don't! I'm fine. Just keep going." Drift knew he didn't look fine. He wasn't fine. But he had to do this. He had to. No matter how much it hurt him. Optics locked onto Rodimus', intense and desperate, hoping for once the other's ego could be kept in check and he'd listen. He pulled the blasters up close to his chest, still failing to hide the tremors in his hands.

Rodimus stared back hard before releasing a vent and continuing inside. "Fine. If you insist. But next time, you're going on the gurney."

Brisk steps through the corridors as Rodimus glanced around. Drift tried to ignore the sporadic patches of energon. And how many he recognized. Taking in a deep vent, he leaned his helm on Rodimus. Just find Ratchet. Just find him and leave and never come back.

"You said he's in a closet? Damn, you were right. These all look the same. You sure you know where to go?"

"Just keep going, Rodimus. Take a left up here." Drift rasped the words, finding it more difficult to get them out the further they went. He wasn't going to last long. They had to make this fast.

Rodimus slowed his pace. "Escape pods. Probably a good idea to keep tabs on that. They might come in handy in a pinch." He walked closer. To the escape pods. Drift tensed. The room with the escape pods.

"Maybe he got out and took one of these."

Stop. Stop, stop- don't go any closer-

"Hm? What's that…?"

Rodimus bent down to inspect the chains still bolted on each side of the entryway.

"Have we learned our lesson about trying to escape? Hmm?"

They were too close. Too close. Rodimus didn't know what they would do if he went in there. If they were found in there.

"Drift…? You okay? What's wrong?" He was going to walk through.

Drift threw himself from his arms, hitting the ground and wheezing as the pain blinded him. He could still taste it.

The brain module was pulled from his mouth, followed by that infernal contraption used to hold it open. Drift sputtered and gasped as the figure crouched down in front of him. Cold fingers grabbed his chin and pulled it upwards.

"Trying to cheat the game will only win you consequences. You should know that by now. So how about this? All I need is an apology, and we can put this behind us and pick up where we left off. Sound good?"

Those optic-less holes bored right into him. Drift could only mumble something intelligible. His helm felt stiff and heavy despite the missing component.

"Speak up, Deadlock. Or do you need some more time to contemplate your actions?"

A light shock jolted him, ripping a high whine from his vocalizer. Smoky gasps wracked his frame. Drift stumbled over his words, not making any sense.

"Think on it some more, hmm?"

"W…wait… please-!"

A tsk from Kaon. "Maybe be ready with your answer next time."

Drift's mouth was pried open once again as his fragile component was placed back inside. A muffled sob escaped his intake as his helm lowered.

"None of that now." Hands yanked him up by the fins. "Keep your helm up and take a nice, long look. That's all you'll be seeing until I get that apology."

"Drift! Oh scrap. Damn, I'm sorry- I didn't realize-"

Drift pushed Rodimus away, only barely lifting himself off the floor before purging the contents of his tanks- coughing, hacking, wheezing as he shivered. The tears came unwillingly, turning him into a sobbing mess as Rodimus hovered nervously over him. Primus, he probably looked pathetic.

"Alright, come on… let's get you on that gurney now-" Rodimus didn't get the chance to pick him up before he purged again, coughing and gasping so hard, it hurt.

The way out of this hell house sat right across him, so close, just a step away. But he was trapped in place, arms chained to the doorway. Taunted by the exit he couldn't take.

"Oh god. Um. Hey, it's alright…" A trembling hand touched his back and Drift jolted. It pulled back. Drift almost let out a sob at that. He wanted contact, needed it. He could ignore his frame's reactions.

Still, Rodimus lifted him quickly and placed Drift on the gurney, leaving him cold, with nothing but the thick air touching his plating.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I'm sorry." Rodimus muttered to himself as he pushed the gurney down the hall, continually glancing at Drift. "Should've never listened to you. 'I'm fine', my aft."

Only one blaster was left with Drift, Rodimus having taken the other. Not that he could've used it. Even trying to push himself up slightly had his helm swimming and systems overcome with sickness.

"Just stay down, Drift. I'll find him. I've got it."

It was almost hilarious how quickly he fell apart just being in here. How useless he ended up being. He hadn't been giving directions to Rodimus. They were probably hopelessly lost in this hellish maze. How did he think he would be able to do this?

The gurney stopped suddenly as Rodimus rounded a corner. "Oh scrap. Drift. Don't look. Shutter your optics."

It was too late. He'd already caught sight of them.

Figures lying still. Unmoving.

Throbbing pain in his chest. Drift remembered this hall.

"Did Megatron do this?" Rodimus started moving again. "We need to keep going. Don't look at them, Drift. Don't look."

Splitting pain. Awful, awful pain. Drift couldn't vent properly.

"Stop, Rodimus. Stop." Drift barely hissed the words out.

"We have to find your friend. Don't worry about them. I don't think they'll be bothering us."

"Stop."

Rodimus stopped and held his gaze for several moments. Drift couldn't tell what Rodimus was thinking. He didn't know what he was thinking either.

Drift looked over to the figure lying closest to him. With such a peaceful expression. Did he go out like that? Quick? Painless?

Drift held up the blaster in his shaking hand. It wasn't fair.

The coolant filling his optics clouded his vision. He couldn't aim.

A sob from his intake. It wasn't fair.

"Drift…"

Drift pushed himself up too quickly, crashing to the floor in a heap. He couldn't control the noises coming from his vocoder as the tears streamed down. The gun shook so violently, he couldn't get it where he wanted it. Needed it.

"Drift… no… Come on, we need to go." Rodimus knelt down beside him. "They're gone."

"I have to do this. You don't know what they did, Rodimus." Drift's voice shook so badly he could hardly make sense of what he said. "The things they did."

With shaking arms, he barely managed to lift himself up before collapsing again with a snarl. He tried again. And fell again.

"Why?!"

Drift tried aiming again, but could barely lift his hand from where he was on the ground. It wasn't fair. They got to lay here and rest so peacefully, after they made him suffer for so long? How many times had he begged to be allowed this mercy, but was denied every time, only encouraging their cruelty further?

"Why… why?"

The blaster was carefully plucked from his trembling hand and Drift made a strangled noise in response.

"Give it back. I need it. I need this, Rodimus. They took so much from me. That I'll never get back. Don't you get it?" That horrible aching pain in his chest grew unbearable and Drift curled in on himself.

He knew it was pointless. They were already…

Rodimus only sat beside him, silent. Why was he silent? Drift needed to hear his voice. Needed to hear something, anything.

"I'll never walk again. I'm not stupid. I know it's too messed up to fix. Even if I get new legs built, I can't ever use them. Because they… they…" Drift wheezed a laugh. A sad, pathetic laugh. "Have you ever heard of a bot with melted legs walking again? I…" His vents hitched. "They melted them, Roddy." Drift's voice was so faint he could barely even hear himself. "Melted. I can never walk, never fight again. They took it from me. And now they're going to take Ratchet from me too." He couldn't bring himself to care that he'd let the name slip. It didn't matter anymore.

"Who did it?" Rodimus' voice was strangely quiet, reserved. "Who did this to you, Drift?"

Drift's optics must've given it away, because Rodimus had turned to look, giving a sharp nod.

"Alright, c'mere." Drift was scooped up into his arms once again. Rodimus stopped at the edge of the hall, Drift balanced in one arm. The other went behind them, blaster aimed and loaded.

"Allow me."

Drift didn't look as the rounds were fired. He didn't look as Rodimus made his way down the corridor.

He didn't look as Rodimus stopped, the air thick and heavy. Full of emotions he never wanted to feel again.

"I think this is it."

"Rodimus…" Drift barely forced the name out, faint and weak.

"I know, I know. If I leave you out here, you'll kill me. Got it."

He could feel the moment Rodimus stepped through. It was suffocating. Awful. Drift didn't want to open his optics. Because then he might just find himself back here, alone and discarded. Waiting to die. Hoping to die.

Rodimus hadn't spoken a word. Drift looked.

Dried energon. Scattered tools. A sword.

No Ratchet.

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