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Chapter 24: Thank you, Drift

The steady whir of a healthy frame greeted Ratchet as he came online. Audial pressed up close, he listened to moving parts, flexing with each slow vent in and out. Everything sounded like it should. Healthy. Right. It filled him with a sense of ease. There was nothing here for him to fix.

Ratchet cringed as he picked up a strange clicking noise. Well, except for that.

A hand ran softly up and down his back in a steady motion while another carefully tucked Ratchet in closer, giving him a face-full of Drift's shoulder.

Ratchet was suddenly very aware of how violently his frame shook. He lifted a trembling hand up to touch his face, finding it soaked in tears. His cable lay limp and hanging, having been removed from Drift's medical port.

"You had a nightmare. A pretty bad one." Drift murmured as he shifted on the berth.

How much had he seen? Ratchet wracked his processor, but couldn't remember despite the terror of the dream still clinging to his subconscious. The thought of anyone seeing his memories of that ship made his tank turn with disgust. His first instinct was to push off, get away from the one holding him like some fragile instrument.

But he didn't. What was the point? What reputation did he have left to protect? The doctors here didn't know of him. He'd given up the only role he'd known for most of his existence all for someone he'd lost forever. What purpose did he serve anymore? What more did he have left? The Lost Light? Sitting by idly for the rest of his functioning? Being tiptoed around as if he'd break at the slightest pressure? Pitied?

Or… he could just stay here. The reality that he didn't know what to do with himself was too much to bear.

"Ratchet." Drift spoke so softly, it had nearly been drowned out by the whir of equipment. "Do you… remember where I found you?"

Ratchet's vents picked up in rhythm. Flashes of that pitch dark room, alone- so alone, the scent of spilled energon, just let him die already- venomous whispers from behind that expressionless mask as his spark was torn apart from the inside out-

"You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry." The arms around him pulled him in closer, but Ratchet pushed back, untangling himself from Drift as he tried to get his breathing back under control.

"Yeah. I remember. Wish I didn't. Not much to be done about that now." Ratchet groused- his voice truly sounded terrible. A trembling hand raised to his chest, willing his frame to just cooperate for once.

Drift was being far too nice, too careful. He hated this. "What're you apologizing for, anyway? This has nothing to do with you. I went in there myself. By my own choice. I did it for-" A pause. Drift's expression changed. It softened. There it was- pity. Ratchet looked away. "…I did it for Drift. Whatever that means to you."

Cool air bit against his plating and something deep inside urged him to just be held again, to sleep. To sleep and not wake back up to this reality where Ratchet had no direction. Too much weighing down on him, and no way to do anything about it. Nothing for him to fix. Nothing to repair.

"It does have to do with me." Drift moved to sit on the edge of the berth and the loss of that contact made Ratchet's spark ache. He didn't know what he wanted anymore.

"They were after me. You should've never gotten wrapped up in it."

Ratchet balked. "That bounty was up because of me. I pissed off the DJD, and had Drift put back on their radar."

"Ratchet- I've always been on their radar. They were going to get me eventually. I was living on borrowed time. That bounty? That's why I was there. Some thugs wanted in on it and got the jump on me. I guess I got lucky someone else got to the DJD first. The carnage left behind scared them off, which allowed me to slip away." Drift looked down at his hands, fiddling with them in his lap. "If they had only gotten to me first, then you would never have had to go through all of that."

"That's stupid." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Regretting that he wasn't the one tortured to death? "That's so- that's so stupid. What's the logic in trading one tragedy for another? It's a senseless loss of life. That's just putting my grief onto someone else. It solves nothing."

That little thought crept in, that terrible, terrible thought that if he had only just listened to his gut instinct, if he had turned running at the first sign of Froid's behavior… then maybe they could have avoided that hell. They would have simply gone about their lives, blissfully unaware as this Drift suffered and died alone instead.

"Don't you have people that care about you? Why would you want to put them through the pain of losing you?"

Drift looked straight at him, expression unreadable. "…I don't have anyone. There's no one that would've come after me. No one else would have to be hurt." This idiot.

"Are you seriously only saying all this because I got a little scraped up? You don't even know me. Don't sit here and wish death on yourself in front of me. I don't care that I lost my hands." Lie. Lie. Lie. Disgusting lie-

"You'd only be trading your life for his. What's done is done, there's no sense in fixating on the past." Come back… Don't leave me. Don't leave me…Please…

"He's gone." It was getting difficult to vent. Ratchet took in a shaky breath. "He's gone. And I just… I have to move on." He felt a hand tentatively touch his shoulder, but smacked it away. Ratchet flinched, immediately regretting it. Don't go. Don't leave. Drift didn't touch him again.

He wanted to be held.

Something between a laugh and sob escaped his intake as Ratchet buried his face in his hands. "He's gone. And you know what? You know what? There's not even anything left. Not a scrap of metal- nothing. Because they're sick. They're all sick. Nothing to bury, nothing to remember him by. And then there's you-" A shake of his helm. "I don't even know. I don't know anymore."

The berth creaked, a scrape of metal. Something was placed beside him. Ratchet looked up to see a pile of swords beside him. Drift's swords. "I found your shuttle when we escaped. These were inside. They're not mine." Drift gazed down at them with a sad smile. "Those are probably long gone by now."

The greatsword flickered weakly up at him, perhaps sensing the presence of Drift. Ratchet looked away from it, feeling sick. He couldn't bring himself to touch it. "I can't take these. What would I even do with them? You'd get more use out of it."

"Take them." Dark gray hands took his and placed it on the sword. "He'd want you to keep them safe." It was warm, the crystal faintly buzzing with energy. Ratchet ripped his hand away.

"Don't act like you know what he wants." This was stupid. He was talking to Drift. None of what he said was untrue. "You know nothing about him. You know nothing about me." Every word came out bitter, making the horrible chasm inside grow. What was he doing? This isn't what he wanted.

Ratchet stared down at the trembling hands in his lap. His field was a mess, he knew it was, but he did nothing to reign it in. What did he want? Did it even matter? Did anything matter anymore? Nothing made sense, he was exhausted, deeply, horribly exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. Maybe then he couldn't sabotage anything else.

Drift stood from the berth. Of course, he'd scared him off. Just push everyone away. He was great at that.

Ratchet startled as a frame plopped down right next to him, arms wrapping around him before he could react. "Hey-!"

Drift held tight, his grip firm, but not too much. It was secure enough that he wouldn't be able to escape it, not that Ratchet had really made an effort to get out of his hold. Instead, he simply leaned into it, secretly grateful for the stubbornness this Drift had too.

"Sorry, Ratch. I care about you too much to let you do this to yourself."

Helm resting against the scratched up chestplate, Ratchet could hear his spark, clicking and all. He didn't like that. "Why do you care so much? Don't you have your own crotchety old medic?"

Drift hesitated, only for a brief moment. "Because you're my friend, Ratchet. I know none of this makes sense, but deep down I know you're the same bot who saved my life all those millennia ago. The same one who looked me in the face and told me I'm special when I desperately needed to hear it. The same friend I asked to join me on the Lost Light. Time and circumstance may have separated us and taken us down different paths, but that doesn't change what you mean to me."

Drift's hand moved to cup the back of his helm. "I won't let you suffer through this alone."

The familiar warmth and safety covered him like a blanket, and Ratchet finally felt a sense of peace, however small. He reached down to the sword sitting beside them and let his hand rest on the crystal, still glowing despite it all.

His hands were suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace, held so tenderly, soft but desperate. He stared down at his empty hand. Empty, but grasped all the same. And for the first time since waking back up, Ratchet felt a fleeting spark of hope that maybe he was wrong. He squeezed the hilt of the sword.

"…Thank you, Drift."

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