---

Chapter 7: It was beautiful

"-keeps passing out… did what I could…."

"-massive internal damage… prepare… surgery-"

"-been complaining of… think he's suffering from waking nightmares-"

Words filtering in fragments. It was still dark. There was something covering Drift's optics. The world felt suffocating.

"…Ratchet? Is that you?" Finally finding his voice, Drift didn't like how small and raspy it came out.

Warm pressure on his arm. Ratchet.

"I'm right here, Drift. You're safe now."

"I can't- I can't see." Panic welled up in his spark.

Ratchet sucked in a small vent and hesitated. "…I'm sorry. You've been having hallucinations. This is the only thing that's kept you calm. You probably don't remember… but you had it pretty bad last time you came online."

It was dark. He didn't like it. Dread crept in at the edges of the cloth covering his face. Vents became choppy, hitching as he tried to breathe. He didn't like it.

"We met up with the Vis Vitalis. They have the proper medical facilities to treat you. They're preparing to put you in surgery now."

"…I want you to do it."

"You know I can't."

The darkness was all consuming. Suffocating. A strong wave of nausea came over him. He felt sick and dizzy, weak.

"Ratchet- I don't feel right. Something's wrong-"

"Just the medicine they have you on. You might feel a bit sick. The blockers had to be uninstalled and you were in so much pain, they had to put you on something much stronger."

Noises clattered from every direction. Sharp scrapes of tools shuffled around. Unfamiliar voices. Unable to handle the unknown anymore, Drift reached up to move the cloth, when he felt hands gently take his.

"Drift. You really shouldn't. It's for the best."

"I need to see, Ratchet." There was an uncomfortable pressure forming in his chest. "I need to see."

Feeling his hand slowly released, Drift finished pulling the offending fabric off his face, finding himself nearly blinded by the bright lighting. Ratchet stood over the rolling berth he was laid on, looking exhausted. A hand rested tentatively over his abdomen, as if trying to hide something.

There was a sword sticking out of Ratchet.

"Drift. Drift, remember what I said. You've been hallucinating." Ratchet held him down firmly, stopping his panicked flailing as Drift desperately tried to get up.

"Oh great. Not again…" Another voice. Unfamiliar.

Ratchet leaned over, looking directly in his optics. "Whatever you're seeing- it's not real. I'm fine. I'm not injured. And if I was, there are plenty of competent medics here that would help me."

"No- no I did this to you. Oh Primus. I killed you. I killed you-"

"Last I checked I'm not dead," Ratchet snapped. "There's nothing here, see." He took Drift's hand, placing it on his plating. It was smooth. No sword.

Looking back up into Ratchet's optics, he found there were none. Energon streamed down from the black holes in his face. "See? I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about."

Something grabbed his shoulder. "I'm going to administer some medicine. Calm you down. You won't feel a thing." Someone else was there.

Tarn stood over him, a large needle in hand.

Hands shoved him down again as Drift flailed and gasped in a panic. He had to get away now.

"This is getting ridiculous. He needs to be restrained."

"Absolutely not. That will only make him freak out more. He's difficult enough to deal with as it is. Will you- just hold still."

Ratchet's hands were rough, holding him down uncomfortably hard. Hurting him.

"Having some trouble with him? I could chain him to the berth for you."

Two sets of black holes bored into him as Kaon also pinned him down on the berth. Electric hums pulsed faintly under his touch. Drift fought harder. Not again. Not again.

"Let go- get off-!"

"Drift, just calm down already. There's nothing here that will hurt you." Ratchet's voice was gruff, unkind. As though he were just dealing with an annoyance. An inconvenience.

"Well… except me, of course."

Kaon was close. He was too close. Too close.

Tarn brought the needle closer. "Hold him still, will you? He keeps squirming around. At this rate, I'll just have to stick it wherever I can get it."

"Get- get away from me-!"

"Deadlock, c'mon. A mech like you, scared of a little needle? This is just embarrassing."

Tarn snatched his arm, turning it over roughly. Drift tried to yank it away, but had no strength left.

"You know what? I think we do need those restraints."

"No-!"

In a move of desperation, Drift tried to throw himself off the berth. But they held him fast, pinning him as his limbs were strapped down tightly one by one.

Drift couldn't move, couldn't get up. Vents hitched uncontrollably as he tried to calm himself, unsuccessfully. The room was getting smaller- walls closing in. The need to purge rose drastically in the flurry of reports clogging his processor.

"Drift, really. A bit over dramatic, aren't we? Over something as little as this? You're bringing this on yourself. Just cooperate. They're only trying to help you." Ratchet stood beside Tarn, energon dribbling from his face and abdomen, staring down with an amused expression despite having no optics. As if he enjoyed this.

The cold metal of the needle pressed up against the exposed protoform of Drift's arm joint.

"No…stop… stop it-" The needle pushed in.

That horrible pressure was the only sensation his processor could register. Systems flooded with panic. Alarms screeched so intensely it completely overwhelmed him. Drift's optical feed was clouded, blurry from the coolant building up against his will. Frantically pulling, yanking- nothing was working. The bonds wouldn't come loose.

"Ah-ah. You'll only make it hurt more. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"Ratchet…help…help me…please…" Drift could barely hear himself through his sobs.

"Oh, I can't help you, remember?" Ratchet placed a hand on the needle, pushing it further in. Empty optic sockets came right up to his face, blurry shapes transforming into a horrible twisted image.

"I'm dead."

---

"Shh. It's okay. It's okay. You're safe."

It was dark. Something wet and heavy laid over his optics. Face aching, completely soaked in coolant. A hand gently stroked his helm. Drift startled under the touch, causing it to pull away.

"Drift? You there?"

He didn't know why the sound of Ratchet's voice made him feel… sick.

"I'm sorry. That was a real bad one, wasn't it?"

"…I don't… it's hard to remember."

"You've been having these consistently since you were released. I was informed you were having intense waking nightmares before the surgery, but they wouldn't allow me in to see you. Slaggers. I should've just barged right in."

"… It's over?"

"Yeah. You should be on the mend. Unfortunately the damage was… worse than I thought. It's going to take some time for you to regain your strength."

Drift touched the cloth on his face. Fragments flashed through his processor. How much of that was real? How much of this is real?

"Do you want to take it off?" Ratchet's voice was quiet.

"…I don't know." There was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

"I'm not familiar with how they do things over there, but you were having vivid hallucinations. They said this was the only thing that-"

"Would calm me down. The Vis Vitalis medics treated me. I know. You already told me."

"…I did?"

"I…think?" Drift clutched the tarp covering his legs. "No… that was. Someone else."

Ratchet hesitantly placed his hand back on Drift's helm. "Is it happening again? What do you see?"

"Nothing. It's dark. But if I take it off-" His vents quickened.

"You don't have to, it's alright."

"No, I want to see. I'm just…"

Soft strokes on his helm. A wave of calm washed over him. He hadn't noticed he was hyperventilating.

"This is real- right now? It's real?" He realized how stupid it sounded after getting the words out.

"This is real." Something squeezed his hand resting loosely by his side. "I promise."

"And you weren't…in there, with me. Right?"

"No, they wouldn't let me in. Believe me, I tried. And you know it takes a lot to keep me out."

Drift snorted.

"I did something, didn't I? In your nightmare."

"No… no that wasn't you… It wasn't real."

"But it feels real to you."

Fingers brushed the cloth again. "It's not real. And I'm going to prove it to myself. I'm going to… I'll take it off and everything will be normal." Drift's hand started shaking. "It'll be fine."

"Drift… you really don't have to force yourself-"

Ripping the cloth off in a single motion, Drift had to reset his optics multiple times to adjust to the sudden visual feed. The lighting was much softer, a warm glow opposed to the harsh glare of the operation room. Propping himself up, Drift felt some resistance. He was hooked up to the medical equipment next to the berth, whirring quietly. A recovery room. No… it was his personal habsuite.

"Figured you'd be much more comfortable recovering in your own room. I know the Medibay isn't exactly the most relaxing place to hang out."

Ratchet. He sat by the berth on a stool, back slightly hunched forward. There were several glasses of energon sitting on the desk beside him, untouched. Drift met his optics.

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea-

"Drift? Drift, what's wrong?"

Drift's face was buried in his hands, struggling to stifle the sob caught in his intake.

"I'm stupid. I'm so stupid. Why did I think it would be any different-"

Something brushed his shoulder.

"Stop-! Don't. Don't touch me."

"It's alright. I won't touch you. Can you tell me what you saw?"

Keeping his hands firmly on his face, Drift tried calming himself, but none of his breathing techniques had any effect.

"…Your optics. It's your optics. They're…"

He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Alright then. I'll take care of it. Just hang on." There was rustling by the desk. "Should have something in here- ah."

"And…there. My optics will no longer be in your line of sight."

"…What?"

"Feel free to tell me if this helps. I can't see you anymore."

Sliding a finger out of the way, Drift let an optic peek through his hand, turning his helm back towards Ratchet.

He had a strip of fabric wrapped around his optics.

"…What are you doing?"

"Are you looking? Is this helping at all?"

Lowering his hands, Drift sat up straighter. "Yeah. Yeah it is, actually-."

He made the mistake of glancing down.

"…Drift?"

"I- your middle. There's… you have a sword. My sword."

"I see. Would you mind handing me that tarp on you, then?"

Drift kept his gaze locked in his lap, grabbing the corner of the tarp and holding it out, hoping Ratchet would be able to reach without him needing to move his optics. Something snagged, tugging it off of him.

"Dammit. Stupid blanket." Ratchet was clearly struggling with it, grumbling to himself.

Drift tried to ignore the shadow standing off in the corner. There was nothing there. There was nothing there-

"…Alright. How's this? Any better?"

Drift hesitantly looked back up.

"You look ridiculous."

"I can imagine. But is it helping?"

The tarp was draped over his shoulders, and tucked around his neck, covering the expanse of his chassis. The rest sat bunched up in his lap. There was no sword.

"Do I need to cover my legs too? Are you still looking? Seriously, you need to tell me- I can't see you."

"No, no this is fine. I don't see it anymore."

Ratchet released a vent. "Good."

They sat like that for a moment, neither speaking.

"Uh…Ratchet?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you planning on staying like that?"

A hmph. Ratchet crossed his arms over the tarp. "Well it helps, doesn't it?"

"But now you can't see. How is this any better?"

"This isn't about me. I'm fine."

Drift clenched his fists. "You shouldn't have to do all this just to be around me. No one should." Starting to tremble, Drift wrapped his arms around himself. "What if I still have this problem when I recover? You know how I am… how easily violence comes to me. If I don't have control over what I see, how I react…"

"Drift, you really don't give yourself enough credit. I don't think I've ever met a bot outside of Magnus with anywhere near the level of self control and discipline as you. Definitely to your detriment, but I digress."

"It doesn't matter. You don't get it. I'm messed up. Self discipline won't fix this. There's something wrong with me. I'm just… I'm going to be stuck like this forever." Sickness suddenly washed over him at the thought.

It was getting exceptionally difficult to ignore the figure standing just outside his line of sight. A cruel grin, hands twirling something sharp and pointed-



"You're not messed up. You're going through something. And we have plenty of skilled medics here to help you figure it out."



"There's nothing to 'figure out', Ratchet. It's a curse. I used to think this was a blessing from Primus… but no. I'm being punished. Maybe I deserve it."



A scoff. No response from Ratchet. He looked like he was trying his hardest not to say something offensive. It didn't matter. Drift wouldn't be so easily offended. He knew he was right.



"…You're not cursed. Your processor is under a huge amount of stress right now. Added with the side effects of the medication they have you on, it's only natural that would amplify the intensity of your… visions."

Nausea rolled in Drift's tank as light reflected off the needle he knew was there-

Focus on Ratchet. Focus on Ratchet.

"I've… been like this for a long time. Not to this extreme, but this isn't something that will just go away. There's no cure for this. I don't want anyone to have to bend over backwards for me. Especially you."

"Drift. You moron. People taking care of you when you need it isn't 'bending over backwards'-"

"I know you're only doing all this because you feel responsible somehow, but you're not. What happened to me was my own fault. You don't need to-"

Ratchet sighed and scooted his stool closer, scraping against the floor loudly and cutting him off. "I'm doing all this because I care."

He paused, face scrunched up in a weird expression, hands settling in his lap, idly smoothing out the tarp. "Maybe I don't show it enough, I know I definitely don't ever say it. And I'm realizing that hanging around your sorry aft dredges up a bunch of feelings I don't have the emotional capacity to deal with right now."

Drift found his gaze fixed on Ratchet's hands, looking at his face felt weird with no optic contact.

"And maybe I'm only able to say all this because I can't actually see your face at the moment," One of Ratchet's hands stopped fiddling with the tarp and reached out before stopping, pulling back, probably remembering what Drift had said before.

Drift grabbed his hand, a bit too hard, before it could retreat.

"…But I do care. More than you'd ever catch me admitting sober. So yes, Drift. If you have to stay holed up in your room, if your processor torments you and no one else can come near you, I'll do whatever I need to make sure you don't go through this alone. If I have to look absolutely ridiculous in the process… well that's just what I'll have to do. But I'm not going to let you cut yourself off because you're somehow convinced you deserve this."

For a moment Drift forgot about the terror standing behind him and it was only the warm hand in his own. He held on tight as his spark hummed quietly. It was too good to be true. He knew it. But if this was a dream, he was prepared to fight to keep it as long as possible.

Drift laid back on the berth. "…Wow. I guess I was right. This can't be real. I didn't expect you to admit to any of that- not for another century or two at least. This could only be the product of my own twisted subconscious."

"Well you better have that saved to your memory drive. Wait-" Ratchet frowned. "What exactly do you mean by 'not for another century or two'?

"Ratchet, please. I clocked you as the caring type a long time ago. But you're also the most stubborn bag of bolts I've ever known. You were never going to admit it. Why do you think I took any opportunity I could get to bug you? You weren't… fooling me."

Something touched his shoulder and travelled down his arm, right to the joint. A shadow loomed over him, right in the corner of his optical feed.

Don't freak out. Don't freak-

"…Drift? Are you alright? Your hand is shaking."

Vents were becoming more and more labored. Cold metal brushed against him. "Not really." His voice shook.

Violent shivering encompassed his whole frame, his fans couldn't keep up with the rapidly rising temperature.

Ratchet stood up quickly, a hand on his blindfold. "Hang on, I've got some-"

"No!" He clung to Ratchet's hand like a lifeline. "Don't leave. Don't leave me with him."

"I'm not going anywhere. I've got my stuff right here."

He was going to stick it in. He was going to stick the needle in.

"…I really think I need that cloth back now."

Ratchet's scanner was already hovering over his frame. He pulled his arm away and turned to the side, tugging the cloth up slightly to check it. "I'm going to give you the blindfold I've got on. Just shutter your optics and try to take deep vents."

One last glimpse of that cruel grin glitched across his feed before it faded to black. The feeling of something soft laid across his face. It was oddly soothing.

"Drift, I'm going to touch you, alright? I need to check your vitals. Your temperature is getting dangerously high."

He nodded, desperate to feel something besides the side of the needle rubbing against him.

It pressed against his protoform.

"Um. Ratchet. Actually… I really need some help." Trying not to panic, Drift reached out blindly to grab the other's hand. He didn't want to acknowledge how his other arm didn't move, heavy and unresponsive.

Ratchet took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "What are you seeing?"

"Not seeing… he's going to- the needle-"

Pressure on his arm. Drift immediately pulled Ratchet's hand across and pressed it into his arm joint. Coolant built up under the blindfold. He could still feel it.

"No… no no no-"

"Hey. It's alright." Ratchet gently rubbed his arm. His hand lifted slightly as Ratchet moved around to the other side of the berth, still keeping contact.

The berth shifted as Ratchet sat on the edge, pulling Drift's arm into his lap, cradling it as he massaged the joint. "Right here?"

Drift nodded shakily, and the movement made his processor swim.

Circles rubbing into his arm. Uncomfortable pressure.

"Tell me what you need me to do. Is this helping?"

"Just- just keep talking. I want to hear your voice."

"Is someone doing this to you? Are they in here with us?"

"No, no that's stupid. I'm just losing my mind. You're not supposed to believe me."

"I'm serious, Drift. Is there anyone else in here? Because I'll take them out."

"…Right next to you. He's right next to you."

"Alright." Almost immediately he heard something hard smack into the wall and clatter to the floor.

"Is he gone?"

A twisted snicker beside his audial.

"…No."

His arm shifted in Ratchet's hold as he resumed massaging it.

"Well then I'll just have to talk him to death, won't I."

Drift gripped the edge of the berth with his free hand. A horrible sinking feeling. "Ratchet? There's not… actually anyone next to you… is there?"

His hand faltered for a moment. "Did I make it worse? Scrap, I'm sorry. I thought it might help if I- no there's no one else here. Just me."

"No, I mean this is- it's helping. A little. Talking to you."

"Well, just let me know if I do anything wrong." Ratchet set something on the berth next to him, rustling his free hand around in it.

Drift sputtered. "Who is this and what happened to Ratchet? First admitting you've got a big spark, and now that you were wrong?"

"Shut up. I can be wrong as much as I like."

Ratchet adjusted Drift's arm, switching hands and continuing to rub circles. "Alright, this is gonna be a bit cold. Don't freak out." Something wet and cool was placed on his helm. Instant relief. Drift felt some tension leave his frame.

"Pipes wanted to come visit you. As soon as you're ready for him. There's actually quite a few people asking about you. They would've been here when you came online, but I figured it would be best not to overwhelm you so soon. Especially with- you know." Another cooling patch was placed on his chestplate.

"My fragged up brain."

"Your brain is not 'fragged up'. The only fragged up thing you've got going is all that New Age nonsense."

"Don't knock till you've tried it. I really think some meditation would do you wonders."

"Not gonna happen."

The sensation of Ratchet on his arm was enough of a distraction to keep Drift grounded, but he could still feel it- piercing his protoform, throbbing under his hands. Being held there, indefinitely.

Keep talking. Just keep talking. Don't think about it.

"… So people have been asking about me? Really?"

"Yup. Somebody's popular."

"Hmm."

"What, are you surprised?"

Ratchet's motions were getting choppy, he pressed down too hard in the joint and Drift held back a wince. He didn't seem to notice, to Drift's relief, and continued rubbing the area.

"I mean… I didn't really get the impression I was… liked. By most of the crew."

He didn't say why. Ratchet knew.

"You mean you aren't convinced the crew is helm over heels for your charming, not annoyingly fake at all personality?"

Drift gave his best look of disapproval, without being able to actually look.

"Yeah okay, I might've exaggerated a bit. It was like… five, six people. But that's still pretty good. More than I would've expected."

"Such a vote of confidence. That makes me feel so much better."

The back of Ratchet's hand pressed against Drift's helm. It lifted, touching different spots. "On that note, actually… how are you feeling? Pain-wise at least. I'm still a bit concerned about your temperature…" The end of his sentence trailed off as he muttered to himself.

"Real pain or imaginary pain?"

"Pain is pain, Drift. It doesn't matter. If something hurts, I'd like to know. Your arm, right? Anything else?"

The pressure was getting unbearable.

"I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar, you do realize that."

The massage paused. Ratchet's hand pulled away. "Dammit. Freezing up again. Just a second-"

A loud bang on the side of the berth. Drift flinched despite himself.

"-Sorry."

"If your hands are giving you trouble, you really don't need to-"

Stabbing pressure. Hands on the needle, pushing it in harder-

"Deadlock, c'mon. A mech like you, scared of a little needle? This is just embarrassing."

Gentle strokes. Shaking hands were back on Drift's arm, laying limp and twitching in Ratchet's lap. The sharp, twisting sensation took up all his processing power. Drift couldn't get his breathing back under control. Vents rattled and hitched as he wheezed.

"I've got you." Ratchet murmured quietly. "Just focus on my voice. There's no one else here. Just me." A hand brushed above his brow, stroking softly. The pad on his helm peeled off, a new one taking its place. "Just me."

They stayed like that for some time. Ratchet murmuring softly, one hand on Drift's arm, the other stroking his helm. Searing heat. He felt as though he were boiling alive. By the time Drift's breathing had reached a normal rhythm, Ratchet had already gone through multiple cooling pads.

"Primus, I'm so pathetic. I hate this." Drift's words came out quieter than intended.

"No you're not. Shut it."

His hand lifted from Drift's helm, hovering somewhere over his frame. A beeping sound. "Tsk. Way too high for my liking." Another pad pulled off. "Your cooling fans can't seem to keep up. I'll have to look into that, check your… no not that-" Ratchet continued muttering to himself as he fiddled with the machine next to the berth, still keeping a hand firmly on Drift.

Tapping on his chestplate. "Arm, please."

Drift dragged it to his chest, feeling a cable port in.

"I think your temperature is affecting the intensity of the hallucinations. Not a huge fan of the medication they've got you on. That's probably what's causing this."

Cables were tugged as Ratchet adjusted them, lightly shifting Drift around. "Unfortunately the damage to your circuits was so severe, they were forced to use something much stronger. You don't remember, but you were… in a lot of pain. It would've been neglect not to."

"Still not happy about it-" The cable retreated from his medical port. Ratchet muttered quietly to himself. "There we go. That should help…"

Drift felt numb and dizzy and overwhelmed all at once. The pressure was beginning to build again and he couldn't stand it anymore. Static danced lightly across his plating. Voices whisped by his audials and he swore he could sense someone standing right next to Ratchet-

"Drift? You okay? You've been pretty quiet."

Reaching out blindly, trying to pull Ratchet closer. Drift grabbed hold of a wide shoulder, tugging it downwards.

"Alright, alright, hang on-"

The berth creaked as Ratchet shifted to lay down next to Drift, arms wrapping around his frame carefully. Drift pulled him closer, desperate to get any contact.

"Careful now, mind the cables." Ratchet pushed back a little, adjusting the cords sticking out of Drift, but eventually gave up and let himself be smothered.

Face buried, helm tucked in, Drift scooted himself down to Ratchet's chestplate and curled in on him, holding on as tight as he could. A sigh and Ratchet eventually returned the tight hug.

Completely covered in Ratchet, he felt soft, warm- but not too warm. Fans kicked to another gear, finally giving his frame some relief from the oppressive heat. Everything else started to fade out. The faint pressure on his arm barely registered. No jeering voices heard over the loud thrumming of Ratchet's spark in his audials.

He finally felt… safe.

"Seems like your fans are catching up. Feeling any better?"

A nod. His finials clanked into Ratchet.

"Careful, careful. That's still healing."

Absently trailing a hand up his helm, Drift could feel it. Still covered in gauze, but the tip was there, sharp and pointed.

"Don't stab me, either."

"Sorry."

Drift shifted himself so Ratchet's spark hummed against his own. They settled into a similar rhythm, soothing and quiet. Hands gently rubbed his back and Drift felt dangerously close to slipping off into recharge. He wasn't going to let that happen. Not now.

The blindfold had slipped off his face, but Drift kept his optics firmly shuttered. Unsure if he would actually see anything, but desperate to keep the moment as it was, it wasn't worth it to risk it. But with the warmth enveloping him and the peaceful darkness around him, it took all of Drift's willpower to stay online.

Some time passed before Ratchet spoke again, barely a whisper. "Drift. You still awake?"

"Mmhm."

"Uh huh. How about you take your face out of my shoulder so you can actually form words."

"…Getting really tired. I don't like it."

"You should try to sleep."

"No."

"Worried about nightmares?"

"…"

"Your body needs recharge to heal properly."

"You know why. I'm not going offline. Period. End of conversation." Drift buried his face in his claimed shoulder once again, words becoming progressively more muffled. Ratchet sighed.

Just keep talking. Stay awake. Stay awake.

"You know… they thought we were Conjunx."

Maybe not the best conversation to have, Drift realized. Too late now.

"Yeah and anybody walks in here right now, the whole ship will too."

"Hmm. You don't hear much at Swerve's do you, Ratch."

"Oh, I'm very aware of the rumors that fragger circulates. I talk to him every night."

Despite being very conscious of how their legs were tangled up together and his sleep-riddled processor was digging him straight into a hole, Drift still couldn't seem to stop himself.

"It's a shame to have to disappoint him like that, huh."

"Yeah. Real shame."

Was that sarcasm? He was too exhausted to tell the difference.

"It's just too bad this isn't real. Because otherwise I'd be really tempted to ask you out on a date right now."

"Hmm… lucky for you this is real, and that answer would be yes, by the way."

"You can't do this to me, Ratchet. That's not fair."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I've wanted this for so long… figures it would only ever happen in a dream."

"Well… what can I do to convince you this is real? I'm not taking my answer back."

"You can say whatever you want- doesn't change the fact that I'll eventually wake back up and find you dead, right before I end up joining you." Drift held on tighter. "This was nice though. It's good to know you would've hypothetically said yes. In my subconscious."

Ratchet let out an obnoxiously exasperated sigh. "…Read my aura."

"What?"

"That's something you do, right? Auras, or whatnot."

"Yes, but-"

"Well, read it. What does it say? You'd only be able to see that if I'm real, no?"

He hadn't even thought to check, his processor being the jumbled up mess that it was currently. He almost… didn't want to.

"Hurry up, this is more damaging to my psyche for me to say than you realize."

"Quiet. I'm focusing."

"No you're not, I know you're grinning right now."

"Why, are you reading my aura, Ratchet?"

"Stop diverting attention you slagger. I didn't know it took you this long just to read an aura, with how often you would share that information with me against my will. You must be losing your touch."

"It's not that…" Drift dragged his helm back over Ratchet's spark, listening to it pulse quietly. He wanted to be proven wrong, for this to be real. So badly. But he didn't think he could handle it if he was proven right. It would only hurt that much more.

"Drift. Do you trust me?"

"…"

"I wouldn't lie to you about this. It's not a dream. It's real. It's real to me."

Ratchet's chin rested on his shoulder.

"It's real. I promise."

"…Okay."

Drift took in a deep vent and focused. At this point he just needed to know.

At first, nothing. But his processor quickly filled with soft, warm color.

Care, guilt, responsibility.

Love. It blossomed up from Ratchet's spark, repressed and hidden for so long, finally bursting free. All different colors of love. For so many people. Drift nearly released his hold on Ratchet from how overwhelming the sensation was.

"Well? Did you look at it?

It was beautiful.

"I did."

"And…?"

"Not telling."

"But you admit I was right?"

Drift snuggled closer, burying his face. "You were right, Ratchet. You were right."

Lethargy pulled at his processor, but it wasn't filled with fear this time. He let it tug at his consciousness.

"Stay with me?" Drift was barely online.

"I'm not going anywhere. Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you come back."

Safe and surrounded by warmth, Drift finally let sleep take him. "I know you will…"

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