The first thing Drift saw upon waking up was the blank ceiling above him. His thoughts wandered back to weeks of waking up just like this, the crushing despair settling over him as he realized his prayers went unanswered. But he couldn't even muster up that much. He only felt numb.
The second things Drift saw were his legs, now attached to his frame. Weld work nearly seamless. His fingers absently ran along the line and pulled back with a flinch at the sensation pinging from his leg.
"Sorry, Drift. Didn't realize you were online just yet." Ratchet's voice came just out of the doorway. "I'll be there in just a second."
Drift stared at his legs, numb. They hadn't been there the last he checked… had they? He couldn't remember. Fingers reached out once again, but pulled back at the last moment, too scared to touch. He could feel the hands tucked away in his subspace jostle as he moved. He remembered that much at least. It brought a comforting presence and he held on to it. Ratchet was safe with him and no one could snatch him away.
"Hey. How are you feeling?" Ratchet's hand touched his shoulder pauldron but Drift couldn't find it in himself to tear his optics away from his new limbs.
"…Weird. To be honest."
"Yeah, it's going to take a bit for your frame to adjust. The operation went smoothly, so nothing to worry about. We can go through the care routine for your new limbs once you've rested up some more."
"Right." His optics stayed locked in place, taking in each minuscule tremor throughout his legs. The gaping chasm of nothingness in his processor only grew larger by the second. It terrified him. He couldn't even remember the last thing Ratchet said to him before this, much less preparing for the operation itself. It figured his worthless brain could only manage to hold on to the memories he wanted nothing of and not anything relevant to whatever pitiful amount of time he had left at this point.
Ratchet's voice lowered as he gently squeezed his shoulder. "I can go over it again with you if you're having trouble remembering."
The almost pity in his voice had Drift laughing dryly. "How many times now does this make it? Do you just have it rehearsed and ready to go? For the pathetic, broken bot who can't do anything?"
"Stop it. Don't talk about yourself like that."
"It doesn't matter. I'll only end up forgetting again. Might as well save yourself the trouble."
"Drift-"
"Just…" Drift brushed the hand off his shoulder. The warm hand. The hand that didn't belong to a corpse. "Just do what you came to do, Ratchet. I don't want to talk right now."
"…Alright."
There was a faint humming noise from behind Ratchet and he stepped to the side to reveal the source as a hover chair. Figured. Drift looked back down at his legs. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
"Well, we've got a chair ready for you. If you'd prefer to rest in your room, I can take you. Your condition isn't critical anymore, so you don't have to stay in here. I know it's probably not very relaxing in a place like this."
His helm was nodding without really even processing what Ratchet said. It didn't matter. The end outcome would be the same whether he spent his last days in the medibay or his room. He didn't care.
Ratchet was speaking again. Drift couldn't focus enough to make out any of it. He just kept nodding. Ratchet wouldn't do anything to hurt him. There were faint memories, memories of restraints and pain. Of begging and crying and loud machinery. They were promptly pushed back down.
Ratchet wouldn't do anything to hurt him.
An arm looped under his legs, another wrapping around his frame as he was lifted out of the berth. The chair was cold and hard. Too wide. His pedes rested on platforms jutting out from the bottom. He heard Ratchet speak again. They were getting him a chair fitted to his frame at a later point. One better for mobility and getting around the ship.
Don't bother.
It wouldn't be of any use to a dead mech.
Drift said nothing. He simply nodded and let Ratchet cart him off.
They walked through familiar doors to familiar lighting. Soft, warm tones. He always liked to set the mood in his habsuite.
This wasn't his habsuite.
Ratchet lifted him out of the chair, setting him down on the edge of the berth. It wasn't his.
"There we go." Ratchet gave him a soft pat on the arm. He smiled. It was genuine. Drift offered up what he hoped was a smile in return.
"Velocity will be down to help you get in and out of your chair once you've recovered your strength a bit. Don't be an idiot and attempt it on your own for the time being. You'll hurt yourself."
Drift didn't know who that was. He simply nodded, too exhausted to speak.
The berth was filled with cushions and pillows. He couldn't be sure if the Drift who lived here liked them or if someone had prepared the berth for him. Drift found he didn't really care. He pulled himself up to head of the berth and into the soft nest.
"Your systems should be able to handle ingesting energon normally now." A soft thud of glass on the berthside desk behind him. "Try to drink some, alright? But just take it slow. Small sips. "
Drift nodded, helm buried in cushions.
His fingers were pulled open and something small tucked inside. "Call me if you need anything. I'll be back to check on you later." Ratchet's voice was soft in the silence of the room. He pulled a blanket up over Drift's frame. Much softer than the standard medibay tarps. It held the familiar scent of his favorite wax.
Drift left his hand limp, and the button sat loosely in his grasp. He couldn't bring himself to move.
"…Rest well, Drift. You deserve it."
It was a moment before he heard Ratchet's pedesteps and the hiss of the door. Drift didn't nod this time.
Drift stared at the room that wasn't his. Empty shelves lining the walls. Scattered trinkets, knocked over and abandoned. An untouched moment in time. A moment that belonged to someone else.
He remembered what filled those same spots in his own room. The stories they carried, stories told to him by friends he held dear. Friends he may never see again. Not in the same way, at least.
His thoughts didn't stay in those comforting memories- they wandered the walls, slipping into each crevice, the sense of unease growing by the moment. The feeling of being watched. He knew Froid had planted something in here. It would be almost insulting if he'd overlooked such an opportunity to squash any privacy Drift had left.
He shuttered his optics, feeling the weight of a thousand years slowly crushing him. Don't think about Froid. Don't think about him. Not now.
He tried to sleep, but lingering fears of what further traps had been laid in his mind kept him up. He didn't want any more. He truly couldn't take any more.
So he stayed awake.
There was a rap on his door. A muted voice calling from outside. Drift couldn't focus on who it belonged to. He couldn't bring himself to respond either.
He didn't want to see anyone. The thought of speaking was exhausting. If he pretended to be asleep maybe they'd leave him be.
For a moment it seemed as though they would. Until his door hissed open and they stepped right in, uninvited. Drift kept his optics firmly shut, hoping they'd take the hint, but he heard the mech walk right up to his berth and, after a moment, sit down beside it. The tension left his frame as Drift recognized the gait of their walk. He'd given Perceptor the code to his room, after all. This Drift clearly had the same level of trust. The thought eased his mind.
Perceptor didn't speak, perhaps worried about disturbing him. Revealing that he'd been faking sleep the whole time would've been awkward, so Drift continued with his charade. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Drift felt his hand pulled to the side as Perceptor took it in his own. The back of his hand slid into Perceptor's palm. He placed his other hand over Drift's, smothering it in warmth, a gentle hug. He didn't squeeze, he simply held Drift loosely, but still secure so his hand wouldn't fall out.
Perceptor had to be studying his face, taking in the damage left behind. He wasn't one to miss details.
"I know you're awake, Drift."
Drift's hand twitched. Shit.
"It's alright." Perceptor's voice was kept at a low whisper. "But if I'm disturbing you, just say the word and I'll leave you be."
"No-" Drift rasped out, optics cracked open now. "Stay. Please."
He smiled for a moment, so faint and soft Drift nearly missed it. Perceptor held just a little tighter to his hand, still tucked away somewhere safe. "Of course."
Maybe this Perceptor wasn't his, but Drift could afford a little bit of selfishness. He shut his eyes, and they were just a bit lighter this time. He let the safety of his friend wash over him as sleep finally tugged at his mind, not a thought of Froid in sight.