59 minutes
A pair of arms pulled Ratchet up, steadying him as he wobbled on still shaking legs. First Aid only met his optics briefly before turning back to the slab, relieving his hold on Ratchet once he had his footing. Having a patient now in front of him, First Aid switched gears completely. Panic from before funneled into resolve, he barely acknowledged Ratchet as he went into full medic mode, only speaking to briskly give directions to Ambulon before rushing off towards the supply closet.
Ratchet stumbled towards the head of the slab, leaning on it for support. Ambulon was already hovering over Drift with a scanner in hand, checking vitals. Nearly all signs of rust were absent from his frame, so clearly the virus wasn’t what was afflicting him. Ratchet wracked his memory banks for any information on whoever the slag this Kaon was so he knew what exactly they were dealing with.
“Ratchet- snap out of it! Help me move him onto his back.” Ambulon already had an arm tucked around Drift’s legs.
Ratchet carefully lifted Drift’s torso as he was re-positioned on the slab, trying to ignore the full body flinches as they moved him. Wide optics flicked over to him as they set the now shuddering speedster down again. He tried reaching for the medic’s hands, but struggled from the weight of the clasps holding his wrists together.
“Ratchet- Ratchet are you-”
“Shut up. I'm fine. You should be more worried about yourself right now.”
Ratchet placed a hand over Drift's, pushing them back down as he pulled out the scanner readout on his other arm.
“What are you feeling, Drift? Tell me where the pain is.”
“-‘m fine…”
“I'll be the judge of that.”
There were no overt injuries visible on the outside of Drift's frame, save for a few nasty scorch marks and the faint smell of overheated circuitry.
“Damage from electric shocks, looks like.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Ambulon hooked Drift up to the nucleon feed. “Thankfully it seems to have missed his spark. Nothing fatal, it's mostly just circuitry repair for now.”
For now. He tried not to think about that.
Ratchet squeezed Drift’s hand reassuringly before pulling back. “Alright Drift, I’m going to apply some blockers and put you in stasis while we repair you. Now, I know how you feel about being put under-” Drift made a face as if he was about to say something stupid. “-but I don’t really care and if you say anything along the lines of ‘it doesn't hurt’ I will whack you with the nearest piece of medical equipment.”
Drift did his best indignant scowl before getting cut off by a wince of pain.
“That’s what I thought.”
47 minutes
“About what he said.”
Ratchet tensed, but didn’t pause his work under Drift’s arm plating. He didn’t ask who Ambulon was referring to. “Hm.”
“You don’t think he meant…I didn’t catch all of it, but it sounded like- well… you don’t think he meant that only you do the repairs, right?”
“Doesn’t matter.” First Aid slammed a new crate of cooling patches on the cart next to them. “He doesn’t get to waltz in here and tell us how to run our own Medibay. If he wants to injure people for slags and giggles, then he’s just going to have to make do with all three of us doing our jobs .” He joined them beside the slab, inspecting the scorch marks on Drift’s frame.
Ratchet could see First Aid glancing back at him every few seconds. The other medic set down the patch he had just pulled off of Drift’s chestplate. “Here-Ratchet- stop. Let me get that.”
Ratchet dropped his scalpel for the third time in a row, grabbing a clean one off the cart. “ What? No. I’ve got this-”
“No, no you really don’t.”
“ Yes , I do -” He dropped the scalpel again.
“Look- just leave the detail work to us. Your hands-”
“Don’t bring my hands into this.”
First Aid snatched the last scalpel off the cart before he could grab it. “I will bring your hands into this- because it is about them. You said so yourself- your hands are failing. And right now the life of every single patient here is on the line, so excuse me for wanting this done right.”
“He’s right, Ratchet. Leave this to us. Drift’s nearly through the worst of it. You should go take a breather. You’re not in the best headspace to be operating on someone you’re friends with right now.”
“I want to oversee this. I'm not going anywhere.”
“Ratchet, go take a breather-”
Ratchet felt like he was going insane. “A breather - Have you perhaps forgotten the part where they intend to keep bringing him back here until their little torture buddies get back or until his spark just gives out from the stress-?”
Drift started venting rapidly at that and Ratchet internally cursed. He hadn't noticed him come back online.
“I'm well aware of that Ratchet . The only thing keeping me sane right now is focusing on the problem right in front of me and that's exactly what I intend to keep doing.”
First Aid pushed past him and continued where Ratchet had left off, the tremor in his hands visible once again.
36 minutes
Ambulon was right.
First Aid had yet to speak to Ratchet outside of ‘He’s not dead’. Not since Tarn had returned to find someone besides Ratchet fixing Drift and proceeded to shoot Ambulon point blank through the chest. The blast had just missed his spark. Ratchet couldn’t see very well with First Aid hunched over him, furiously connecting cables into Ambulon’s unmoving form. He should help. He wanted to help. But the warning was clear.
28 minutes
“Ratchet - you’re going to hurt yourself.”
The tool slipped from his shaking fingers and bounced right off Drift’s nasal ridge before clattering to the floor.
“Or me.”
“Quiet. Stop distracting me.”
“Honest. I feel much better now. You should take a break.”
“You’re not feeling anything right now because the blockers I installed are still engaged.”
Ratchet crouched down and fumbled with the tool he dropped, but couldn't quite get it in his hand. With a snarl he stood up and kicked it across the floor. He sat down on the edge of the slab in a huff, glaring at his defective hands.
“...How's Ambulon?” Drift’s voice was so soft, he barely heard it over the whir of equipment.
“Don't know. First Aid still won't speak to me.”
The silence stretched on for several moments before Drift spoke up again.
“Ratchet… I need to apologize.”
“What happened to him wasn't your fault.”
“Not that. What I said before. I should never have asked you to do that. That was… that was a horrible thing for me to put on you. It was selfish. I wasn't thinking-”
“You were dying, Drift. We both were. You were scared, as you should be-”
“I'm not…” Drift mumbled, not convincingly in the slightest.
“You do realize that gets less believable every time you say it.”
Drift was quiet for a moment. “You’re right. I am scared.” He looked away. “...And I actually need to ask… something else from you.”
56 days
“Well- spit it out. What do you want?”
Drift had been fidgeting irritatingly for the past 5 minutes, somehow under the impression Ratchet hadn’t noticed him sneak in the door.
“I’m here for my follow up appointment?”
“Oh look who finally decided to show up. Two months late.”
Drift grimaced sheepishly. “Sorry…”
“What are you waiting for? Go sit on the examination table- and leave those swords outside. No weapons in my Medibay.”
It took him a good minute to find the single medical report that existed for Drift, the one that Ratchet had written himself after the mech decided to stab himself. Kup had apparently never bothered to send him in for even a basic physical.
“Alright, we’re going to have to do a full physical in addition to your follow up-”
He turned around to find Drift sitting on the examination slab… with his excessively large sword laying beside him.
“What did I just say about the swords?” He pointed at the weapon. “Out.”
Drift placed a hand protectively over the sword, bringing it closer to himself. “I have religious exemption.”
“You can live without your weapon of mass killing for 20 minutes. Out.”
Bad choice of words, he realized. But he wasn’t about to take it back.
Drift glared right through him, not breaking optic contact. Ratchet glared right back.
He quickly realized he wasn’t going to win this one, not without Drift walking out and not coming back. “Whatever. But if that thing so much as pokes me, your aft is getting tossed out.”
Drift mumbled something.
“What?”
“That's not what it's for. Killing.”
Again, really bad choice of words.
══════════════════
“Well, the good news is you seem to be in tip top shape. You’ve really been taking good care of yourself-”
“Thank you, Ratchet-”
“-despite the fact that you completely ran yourself through the spark like an idiot. Next time you impale yourself, do me a favor and hit somewhere non-fatal.”
“It’s a wonder I haven’t come back sooner.”
“Look, I would’ve hunted you down to lecture you, but it seemed rude to yell at you when you were still recovering.”
“I didn’t know you had that much self control, Ratchet.”
Drift was smiling now, and overall seemed much more relaxed. Despite the bad start, the examination had fallen into a comfortable silence as opposed to the tension from before.
“Thanks again, Ratchet. Maybe I’ll see you around? The offer’s still up- we would love to have you on the Lost Light.” Drift stood by the door, spending way too much time reattaching his swords. He was about to walk out when Ratchet came up and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Drift. I’m …glad you’re doing better. It’s good to see you taking care of yourself. Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid like that again.”
Drift snickered. “No promises.”
25 minutes
“You want me to promise what?”
“Hear me out-”
“No- no- am I hearing this right? Did you not just 2 minutes ago apologize to me for asking me to kill you and now you're- ”
“I’m going to die regardless, Ratchet. Tell me, what exactly did you intend to do? Punch him?”
Ratchet glared at him, but didn’t answer.
“I’m not making it out of this alive, but you can.”
“You’re asking me to-”
“I’m asking you to do exactly what Tarn said. Patch me up. Don’t interfere.”
Ratchet gripped the edge of the slab. It’s true- he didn’t have a plan. Their weapons had been confiscated. Communications were down. But still.
“I could get those cuffs off you- we could make a break for it.”
“You know you don’t mean that.”
Drift was right. That would mean abandoning Delphi’s patients to the DJD’s whims. Whims that Tarn had implicated very clearly.
“Look, we’ve been gone for a while now with no word back. The Lost Light will send help, send reinforcements. We just have to hold out a little longer-”
“No!”
Drift was sitting up now, gripping Ratchet’s arm. “They can’t . The DJD can’t know they’re here. Please . Please, if anyone shows up you have to- they need to leave.”
“Why?!”
“Because they will all die .”
“You don’t know that-”
“Just listen to me.” There were dents forming in Ratchet’s plating from how hard Drift was holding onto it.
“...I had a vision- or a dream- I don't really know what it was. But … the DJD- they attacked the Lost Light. I saw it. Everyone . They all… And you… we were together when they found us.”
Drift buried his face in his hands, words coming out muffled.
“It was horrible , Ratchet. It was so , so horrible. I saw what they did to you. I can still see it. I can still feel it. And then you say you're heading down to Messatine and I just… I can't let that happen to you. I already lost Rodimus… I don't want to lose you too. I couldn't save you in my vision, but I can now. So please… just let me do this.”
So your grand plan to save me is being tortured to death?!”
“ There is no grand plan. It's either we’re all tortured to death or just me.”
“But- you can’t just- You saw what they’d do to you. ”
“I know!” Drift curled in on himself, shaking violently. “I know…”
34 days
“Hey… you doing alright?”
Drift flinched and snapped his helm up at Ratchet from where he had been staring intently at the booth he was seated at for a concerning amount of time.
“...Yeah. I’m fine.” He did not look fine.
“This seat taken?”
Ratchet didn’t wait for an answer before plopping himself down across from Drift and sliding a drink towards him. “Want one?”
Drift took the cup, turning the straw around in his fingers, but not drinking it.
“I know this must be hard for you. You two were getting pretty close. Rodimus, I mean.”
Drift’s optics dimmed down a hue. He stopped fiddling with the straw.
“I’m going to miss that little bugger. It’ll be quiet around here without him.”
Ratchet took a swig of his drink. If Drift wasn’t even going to make a quip about how Ratchet would actually prefer the quiet, he knew it was pretty bad.
“Is that all you came to talk about? Rodimus? Nothing else?”
“Huh?”
Drift was looking directly at him now. “Overlord. I knew he was onboard. I helped. I was part of it. I knew he was here and still asked you to come with us. If he had gotten out somehow…”
There he goes jumping straight into the loaded conversations.
“Kid. Listen to me. Prowl ordered you to do it. He’s a real gearstick, trust me I know. You weren’t exactly in a position to say no. Not saying you were blameless here, but… I think you did the right thing. Coming clean about it.”
Drift flicked at his straw. “I knowingly put everyone here in danger. If Rod… if he was still here… I don’t know if I would’ve said anything.”
“Look- you stepped down from Command. You left security. What else do you think you deserve? Being locked up in the brig? Set on fire and booted into space?”
Drift looked as though he were actually considering the suggestion.
Ratchet sighed and ran his hands over his faceplate .
“Or… since you now have an open schedule, why don’t you help out around the Medibay? Instead of wallowing in misery and self loathing, I mean. Could use an extra pair of hands around there. Or swords. You could even just stand around looking intimidating- keep Whirl in line.”
“Thought you didn’t want me around.”
“Did I say that?”
Drift gave him a look. “No takebacks then- you aren’t allowed to complain when I make you take a break.”
He walked right into that one.
“Fine, fine. I promise I won’t complain. Most of the time.”
Ratchet downed the rest of his drink and found Drift once again staring into his own untouched glass.
“You gonna drink that sometime today?”
“Rodimus liked this one a lot. Unfiltered, comes off a bit too strong. Just like him.” His voice started to tremble.
“We were going to start lessons soon. Said he wanted to learn.” Drift gestured to his empty hip scabbards. “I don’t think he knew I figured out that he just wanted an excuse to get away from his duties.”
Drift’s helm was lowered, ventilations becoming uneven. Ratchet heard a sob.
Oh, great. He really wasn’t good at this sort of thing.
With a sigh, Ratchet stood up and joined Drift on the other side of the booth. Unsure of how he would react, Ratchet reached around and gave a testing pat to Drift’s shoulder. He felt a hand pull his arm closer and soon found the mech sobbing quietly into his shoulder. He hesitantly wrapped his other arm around Drift, rubbing his back reassuringly, knowing full well Swerve was getting a front row seat to this. Didn’t matter. He’d quell the ‘big ol softie Ratchet’ rumors that were surely coming in the near future. He had a reputation to keep.
16 minutes
“Drift. Drift, look at me.”
Ratchet was sitting further on the slab, a shivering bundle of speedster in his arms. He had to hold himself back from saying it was okay. Because it wasn’t.
“Drift. Listen- we'll figure something out, alright? You don’t have to-”
“You don’t get it, Ratchet- I have to do this. I have to. My visions… my dreams…they're real. It’s a glimpse into a potential future. It can be changed only if I make an effort to change it. I’ve never had a real reason to try to change them before- it was always little things. But this. It can’t happen. I won’t let it happen. If you try to interfere, everyone here will die. If they find the Lost Light, everyone will die. We can't escape. We can't fight. And I'm not going to risk anyone else's life trying something stupid. They're here for me, there's no reason for them to kill anyone else. Not unless you give them an excuse to. ”
Drift pushed out of Ratchet’s hold. “Which is why I need you to promise. No matter what happens to me, no matter what I say after this… do not kill me .”
“What-?”
“Ratchet. You know as well as I do what Tarn meant. Those shocks won’t kill me. Not any time soon. Tarn’s going to come back any minute now. And they’re going to do it again. They’ll bring me back, force you to fix me. Over and over again. I don’t know what state my mind will be in…. but at some point I know I’ll probably beg you to kill me. He’s counting on it. Because he knows you’ll be tempted to. But you can’t . Please.”
Everything was moving too fast. He couldn’t think straight.
“I’m sorry, Ratchet,” Drift was shaking harder now, staring at the floor as coolant streamed down his face. “I’m sorry… to keep asking these things from you.”
10 days
“What the slag are you apologizing for?” Ratchet stood in the doorway of Drift’s hab suite, tray in hand, looking incredulous.
“I’m supposed to be helping you with inventory today-”
“Not when you're sick you're not.”
“And for some stupid reason you now feel obligated to abandon all your CMO duties just to bring me fuel.”
Ratchet walked up to the berth Drift was curled up on, looking absolutely miserable, and set the tray down.
“This may come as a shock, but I do have an obligation to take care of sick people- which would include you. And another thing- this one’s the real kicker: you’re my friend. So yes, Drift, I do care about your general well being.”
The sick mech lifted a finger as if he was about to start speaking again, but was cut off.
“Who has been bugging me nonstop all week to take a day off? Oh, that’s right- you. Consider this my day off. Hound and Hoist have everything under control today. They're only to bother me if there's an emergency.”
“You don't need to stay here. Go rest in your hab. You deserve to actually enjoy your day off.”
Ratchet fluffed out the heating tarp he had brought in with him. “Well, believe it or not, I do actually enjoy taking care of people. Don’t go blabbing about that though. Especially not within hearing distance of Swerve. He's already onto me.”
He tossed the tarp over Drift, tucking it in around his frame. “This is unnecessary. I can do it myself, honest. You can go back to-” A cooling pack was placed on his forehead and Drift immediately relaxed, optics shuttering from relief.
“Hmm? You were saying?”
Drift made a non-committal hum and pulled the tarp up to his chin, nestling down more underneath it.
“...You really don’t mind staying?”
“Won’t matter once I sit down- I don’t plan on getting back up for at least 3 hours.” Ratchet said as he sat right down next to him on the berth, resting his back against the wall.
He felt Drift shift himself closer, leaning up against Ratchet as he tried to steal his frame heat.
“Ratch?”
“Hmm?”
“You would actually rather spend your day off here, with me, sick and miserable? Instead of, you know- anywhere else?”
Ratchet sighed and pinched his nasal bridge.
“Is it that hard for you to accept that I consider you a friend? And that as my friend, I enjoy your company? And that I would like to continue having you around, because you’re my friend and I enjoy your company? And -”
“Okay, okay, alright. Point made. Got it.” Drift snuggled closer, coming dangerously close to falling into recharge.
“...I like having you around too.”
6 minutes
As if he even had to say it at this point.
“Dammit Drift- I’m supposed to be the realist-! Not you.”
Ratchet clutched his helm. How much time did they have? It had to have been an hour by now.
“Ratchet-”
“ Shut up .” He grabbed Drift by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I don’t believe in luck , I don’t believe in visions of some predetermined future , and I sure as the Pit don’t believe in fate. Whatever you saw? Doesn't matter. It’s not going to happen. And whatever stupid self-sacrificing scrap you’ve got going on in your processor? Not going to happen . I’m going to tell you what will happen. I’m going to-“ He glanced at his trembling hands. “...I’m going to fix you. And then we’re going to figure something out. If I have to do it by myself I will .”
Drift tried to speak again.
“No- no you listen . Listen to me, you idiot. I’m not going to let you die. Period . You don’t get to make that call. I want to keep having you around, because guess what? You're my friend and I enjoy your company . And you know what? If fate really is some inescapable thing? Then I guess we’ll just have to die together. But it’s not getting me without a fight. And I’m not letting you die alone with these- these freaks .”
He couldn’t get Drift to meet his optics.
“So yes, I promise, Drift. I promise not to let you die to the best of my ability. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
His hold on Drift’s shoulders loosened as Ratchet pulled him into an embrace.
“I’m not going to tell you that you’ll be okay…but I need you to hang in there. We’ll get through this, alright? I’ll find a way. Don’t you dare give up on your life. There are people that would be worse off without your annoying aft around.”
He felt the other mech’s helm lightly clank against his shoulder. “...Stubborn old gearstick.”
Drift’s voice was quiet, reserved… like he had already given up.
Ratchet held on tighter. “Don’t know what else you expected.”
There was a sound in the hall. Pedesteps.
He felt Drift go rigid in his grasp. Ratchet didn’t let go.
“Ratchet. Disable your audials. Disable them until I get back. I’m serious. I don’t want you to hear. Please .”
He didn’t answer.
“Thank you for your help, Doctor. Excellent work. But really, it’s about time we took our leave.”
gonna get worse before it's gets better (but it will get better I promise. eventually)