It was quiet. Pipes had stopped shivering some time ago, having gone disturbingly still in his arms. Electricity still faintly buzzed through the air. How long had it been? He lost all concept of time.
It was too quiet. Ratchet couldn't bring himself to look behind him.
Small pained noises. That was the only thing telling him Drift was still alive. A voice. Someone was talking.
"-You want it to stop? Hmm? I'm sure your friend could help you. Make it all end. Why don't you ask him?"
Ratchet was going to be sick.
"I could stop. Or I could keep going. Up to you."
He strained to hear anything more from Drift. Something that told him he was still functional.
"Hmm. Your choice I suppose."
Crackling behind him. A ragged screech. It was barely recognizable. Ratchet could hear Drift struggling to vent when it stopped, could hear systems failing from where he sat.
"Have a change of spark yet? …No?"
Another charge. Another horrible wail from Drift.
Again.
And again.
And again.
No more. No more of this. He couldn't sit there and listen to this anymore. Ratchet eyed the sharp tool on the cart next to him. What were his odds? He would most likely be running to his grave if he so much as got up, but the alternative…
Fingers rapped across his shoulders. Tarn stood behind him, hand stopping to rest beside neck cables. A silent threat.
"Stop… s-stop…" Fizzing static from Drift's vocoder.
"That doesn't answer my question, does it?"
A stronger surge of electricity followed by a strangled scream.
"Please-!" Drift's voice was ragged and desperate, glitching uncontrollably. " Stop! Stop-!"
"Here we go again. Is that a 'stop' yes or 'stop' no?"
"Told you that would fry his brain. Can't even form any other words. You're not gonna leave anything for me at this rate."
Ratchet couldn't take it anymore.
« Don't think the warning from before has changed. Move one inch and Helex gets him early. Say one word? And we'll see if two bots fit in there at once. Do anything remotely out of line and I'll make you hurt him next »
"Here. I'll make it easy for you. We'll call the good Doctor over so he can help you. Isn't that right?" Kaon raised his voice. "You wouldn't want your friend to get hurt anymore, would you, Doctor? You're a healer. Why don't you come over here and make the pain stop?"
Ratchet held on to Pipes even tighter. Coolant freely fell from his optics now. This was sick.
"Oh. He's not coming. Hmm. That's too bad. Guess you lost your chance."
A charge in the air. It lasted long. Too long. Drift's scream burned into his processor.
Coolant streamed from his optics. Ratchet was on the berth, gripping Drift like his life depended on it. Spark thrumming wildly, still shaken up. It was a dream. Just a memory purge.
…When did he go offline?
Ratchet eased his hold on Drift, who thankfully hadn't been disturbed by whatever he did in his recharge. He stayed there, on the berth, holding Drift carefully, afraid to let go. Afraid someone would rip him away again. He knew how ridiculous that was. No one here would do something like that. It still didn't make the feeling go away.
Drift's fans ran quietly in his sleep. He needed the rest. Ratchet only hoped it wouldn't be plagued by nightmares this time, like his was.
Occasionally Drift would start to twitch, and Ratchet rubbed his back softly until it died down. His chest rose and fell slowly, engine purring quietly in his sleep. Dangerous, because it very nearly lulled Ratchet into recharge again. No more sleeping. He needed to stay awake.
A beep from his equipment. It was time to check Drift's status again.
Once he was sure Drift was in a deep recharge, Ratchet began untangling himself, taking care not to jostle him in the process. He swung his legs off and removed himself from the berth as quietly as he could. Moving Drift onto his back so he would be more comfortable, Ratchet fluffed out the tarp and laid it over him, tucking in all the sides. He grabbed the cloth discarded on the floor and draped it over Drift's optics. Hopefully he wouldn't need it again. But Ratchet wasn't delusional.
The room was nearly silent, save for the occasional beep from the machine hooked up to Drift. All systems normal. Temperature still a bit high, but nothing to be too concerned about. Fuel level at 85%. Ratchet wondered if Drift would want to refuel orally when he came online, not just get everything funneled through his fuel port. So far he hadn't had the appetite, but Ratchet kept the glass of energon ready on the desk anyway.
He checked all the cables attached to Drift one last time, sticking out from underneath the tarp, making sure none had come loose. Drift stirred a bit at that, but thankfully didn't wake.
Finally satisfied with the situation, Ratchet sat back down next to the berth with a deep vent. Drift looked peaceful, which was a nice change. Ratchet didn't think his spark could handle any more of Drift sobbing and screaming in his recharge while he could only watch helplessly. His most recent nightmare seemed to have been much tamer than the ones prior. Which was really saying something.
Ratchet had thought they left the worst of it behind them. Getting Drift out alive, that was his goal. One that he hadn't even been sure he would accomplish. But now they were out. They were safe. Or, he was at least. Drift was trapped in his own personal hell, and all Ratchet could do was sit there and hold his hand. Barely even that much now.
Being safe didn't change the fact that his mind wasn't. It didn't stop Drift from waking up panicked and frantic, begging Ratchet to kill him all over again.
The absolute terror in his optics as Drift clung onto Ratchet, convinced they were back to drag him away. Seeing things he couldn't see. Feeling things. Terrifying things. And Ratchet still couldn't do anything but give assurances that ultimately meant nothing.
Because it was real to Drift in that moment. And even here, he was trapped in a never ending string of nightmares that he wouldn't remember, but still never be free of.
Ratchet reached down, stroking Drift's face. He wondered if encouraging Drift to sleep had been the right thing to do. This calm state he found wouldn't last. Ratchet knew that. But seeing him rest peacefully, Drift needed this. Even if it was short lived.
Even if nothing he said before stayed with Drift.
Each time he woke up, he recalled less and less. To the point Drift didn't remember waking up to begin with. Memories of what happened that day replaced with events that never happened. Drift would wake up confused, panicked. Unsure of how he got there, but remembering enough to know the severity of his injuries.
Drift's words ran back through his processor. This was something he wanted. This closeness. Desperately. Which was clear from how Drift had repeated nearly the exact same thing to Ratchet numerous times that day, and in turn, forgot every single time.
This had been the first time Ratchet answered back.
Why now, he didn't know. Maybe because Drift was so convinced he was going to die and his spark couldn't take it. Another thing that really worried Ratchet.
There was a good chance Drift wouldn't remember. Ratchet didn't know how to feel about it.
He didn't want things to change between them. Would it though? Maybe it didn't have to. Labels weren't his thing. They had something. People could assume whatever they wanted. And if Drift wanted to give it a name, maybe that wouldn't be so terrible.
Ratchet was more concerned with his own words, from before. Pouring his spark out like that. It felt… strange.
Did he want Drift to remember? He didn't know. Did he only say all of that because he suspected Drift wouldn't remember? Perhaps.
What he did know, was that he meant it. Every word. Maybe he would never repeat it, but with everything else in his life, Ratchet spoke louder with actions than words. And by the Matrix, he planned on showing it.
The communicator on the desk buzzed. An incoming message. From First Aid.
Ambulon pulled through. Recovery is going well. Thought you might want to know.
Also… the team recovered some swords from the site. I believe they belong to your friend. They were left outside his door.
Ratchet stood and made his way to the hall. Sure enough, there they were, leaning against the wall. He brought them in, leaving the smaller swords in the corner. The large one he was sure he'd seen Drift carry at all times. He leaned it up against the head of the berth.
The stone inside the hilt seemed to flicker at the proximity to Drift. He had told Ratchet about Wing. Something about his spark living on inside the sword. A bit of nonsense to Ratchet, but… it was important to Drift.
Maybe he was more willing to make compromises than he thought.
Ratchet sat down again, data pad in hand. He wasn't going to be able to fix this. It probably wasn't something that even could be fixed. But he could help. Or… find someone that could.
Spiritual Healing and Renewal Services. Ratchet grimaced. That sounded like something Drift would try. Not quite what he's looking for. He tried a more specific search, but Drift's symptoms weren't like anything he'd heard before.
"…No…"
Drift muttered in his recharge, starting to shiver.
"-Help…"
Ratchet's spark fell. Not again…
Drift's face scrunched up in pain. "No…"
Ratchet climbed back onto the berth, pulling Drift up against him, still wrapped up in the tarp. He rubbed his back, whispering softly.
He knew Drift couldn't hear him. Still.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you go back to sleep. I shouldn't have."
Drift shook in earnest now, Ratchet only held on tighter.
"I shouldn't have let them take you. Shouldn't have let it get to that point."
He rested his helm against the side of Drift's.
"I don't know if you'll hear this. Or remember it. But I meant what I said."
The shaking died down.
"I meant all of it."
Movement under his hands.
Arms wrapped around Ratchet's back.
"Ratchet…" Drift's voice was raspy, quiet. He paused, still groggy from sleep. "That was really sappy. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"You're a bad influence on me. Turning me soft. Losing my edge."
"Don't sound all that upset to me."
Drift brought himself closer, re-intertwining his legs with Ratchet. He was going to be trapped at that rate. A hand brushed Ratchet's face. He realized he hadn't cleaned the coolant off. If Drift noticed, he didn't say anything.
"Alright… before you get too comfortable, are you thirsty? I've got some drinks."
"A little. But that means I'd have to let go. And I don't want to. I'm in a real dilemma."
"I can see that."
Ratchet felt Drift's arms shift to wrap around his waist, snuggling downward. He didn't seem too distressed from whatever he dreamed, but Ratchet didn't want to bring it up and risk dragging up unwanted memories.
"How are you feeling?"
"…I feel like I want to stay right here."
"Is there something-"
"Trying not to think about it, Ratch." Drift tucked his helm in further. "Trying not to think about it."
His voice was soft and muffled. "…It's not as bad as before. I just… I need a minute."
How much did he remember? Maybe it was better not to know.
"No rush. Take your time."
"I think you mean your time. How long have you been in here with me, Ratchet? When's the last time you recharged? Refueled? I saw those untouched drinks by the way."
Damn perceptive bugger. "I've pulled longer shifts in the Medibay. I'll live."
"Yeah. In emergency situations."
"Exactly."
A sigh. Drift shifted a bit. "If I refuel, you have to do it with me. Or I won't. And you have to promise to get some rest. I won't keel over and die from you taking a nap."
"Alright, alright."
They stayed tangled together several more minutes before Drift finally decided to release Ratchet from his pretzel grip. He sat up slowly, scooting himself back against the wall, before meeting Ratchet's gaze.
And immediately threw a hand over his optics.
"Yeah. Okay. Bad idea… bad idea…"
Ratchet reached out to him. "Do you need me to-"
"No! No. I'm. I'm fine." A hand held out to stop Ratchet, Drift's helm lowered towards his lap, optics shuttered. "…Just need a moment."
Deep vents. Drift was trying to calm himself.
Ratchet grabbed the cloth, which had managed to fall off again, and nudged it against his hand.
"…Thank you."
Grabbing the drinks off the desk, Ratchet realized Drift would probably need some sort of straw if he couldn't see. He carefully placed the glass in Drift's hand. "Hang on, I need to go grab a straw real quick."
"I've got some. In the drawer. Should be right next to you."
"This one?" He realized that was a stupid question to ask someone that couldn't see him.
"Make sure to grab the curly one. I like that one."
Ratchet plopped the straw in Drift's drink and sat back down with his own in hand. He had to hold himself back from downing it in one go. Yeah, maybe he should've been keeping track of his fuel level.
Drift took a sip from his own drink. He froze suddenly, hands gripping the glass. The drink lowered, sitting in his lap, Drift kept his mouth shut in a tight line.
"Drift? Is something wrong with it? Did it go bad?"
Drift swallowed and it looked as if it caused him pain to do so. Ratchet nearly leapt into medic mode. Of course they didn't think to examine his throat.
"No- Ratchet, it's fine. I just… I can't drink this right now."
"Is it your throat? Does it hurt?"
"No…not that..." Drift looked like he was moments from purging, his hand hovered over his mouth.
It hadn't occurred to Ratchet that the hallucinations could extend to taste as well.
"I can get a bucket-"
Drift shook his helm, keeping his hand in place and venting deeply. It took him a few minutes to regain his composure.
"…I'm sorry. It wasn't you. It's just…" His voice was soft, barely heard in the dead quiet. "They made me… they made me drink…" Drift's helm was lowered. He didn't finish.
"It's okay, there are other ways to refuel. You don't have to-"
"Ratchet. I wanted this. To do this with you. And I can't. I can't drink with you. I can't even look at you."
Drift curled in on himself. "And you know the worst part? The most sick, twisted part? I don't even know if this memory is real. They all bleed together, constantly contradicting each other. Nothing makes sense. I don't know if the things I'm remembering so vividly happened at all or if my stupid processor is just making things up to torment me-"
His face was buried in his hands. "I know this is real. But how I got here… I don't know… there's so much- It's all so much. It just keeps replaying in my processor. I can't even be sure I'm grieving the right memories."
Ratchet sat down on the berth, backing up to the wall next to Drift. He held back the urge to try to diagnose the problem. This was out of his hands. Maybe all Drift needed right then was an audial to vent to. He could do that.
"Primus, I'm so stupid. To think maybe I was through the worst of it. That it would just go away. Visions, dreams, memory purges- I don't know what this is, what's wrong with me-"
Arm reaching behind, Ratchet laid his hand on Drift's shoulder and gently pulled him into his side. He stayed how he was, face in his hands, but Ratchet felt Drift slowly relax as he stroked his back softly.
The tension eventually left Drift's frame and Ratchet felt Drift lean his helm on him.
Ratchet's hand continued rubbing his back, but kept stopping up, freezing, and starting again in jagged motions.
"Let me see your hands."
Reluctantly, Ratchet pulled his hand away and placed it in his lap next to the other. Drift touched his arm, trying to feel his way to the hand. Ratchet kept forgetting about the blindfold.
Having found his target, Drift pulled Ratchet's hand towards him, making grabbing motions with his free hand until Ratchet gave his other as well. He set them both down on his thigh armor and began kneading the first hand, massaging the joints.
"This is good to do in the mornings and evenings. Helps loosen the joints."
Drift's movements were gentle, but firm, working with a fluid precision as he rolled Ratchet's hand in between his own. It felt… nice.
"You sure seem to know what you're doing for someone that can't currently see."
Drift didn't seem to hear him, completely laser focused on his task. His hands may have been snatched away, but Ratchet was at least grateful Drift appeared calmer. Distractions helped keep his processor from causing distress it seemed, at least temporarily.
Ratchet's hand was freed as Drift started on the other one. He stretched out his hand, opening and closing. It felt surprisingly flexible.
"Huh. I might need to bug you to do this more often."
"Maybe you should. For someone who likes to rag everyone else on their personal upkeep, you do a pretty scrap job taking care of your own."
Ratchet was tempted to snark back at him, but the massage on his hand was far too distracting. He chose to sit back and let Drift continue undisturbed.
The movements on his hand began to change. Softer, more intentional. Specific patterns.
The slagger thought he could sneak in some hand without Ratchet noticing.
He only cursed himself for never learning how to understand it.
"Hey, Ratchet."
"Hm?"
Drift hands slowed their movement. "…Are you alright?"
"Are you going to bug me to recharge again?"
"No… I mean, are you alright? After… you know."
"Not following you here."
Drift held his hand, running his thumb over it. "I might not remember things, well… accurately. But none of the scenarios running in my processor are… pleasant. You were there too. They didn't… hurt you, did they?"
"My injuries were so minuscule, they gave me a once over and cleared me. You got nothing to worry about."
"I wasn't meaning just in the physical sense as-"
Ratchet didn't have time to process things like that.
"Listen." He placed his free hand on Drift's shoulder. "You might not remember what you did…but you were the reason I wasn't seriously harmed. You were a damn idiot trying to throw your life away like that, but… I'm here right now because of you. Everything else I can work out on my own."
Drift had enough going on. He didn't need to hear any of Ratchet's problems. His problems… like not being able to do the one thing he was forged for anymore. Not being able to fix Drift…or stop them from hurting him to the point where he can't even remember what hurt him. To the point there's so many horrors in his head, he can't narrow down what's even real. So no, Ratchet's problems didn't matter here.
It didn't matter that Drift's screams haunted him. That the guilt ate away at him constantly. That the knowledge that he, indirectly or not, was still responsible for the horror Drift went through. Even if the alternative would mean Drift wouldn't be here now, sitting next to him.
It was selfish in the end. Ratchet didn't keep his promise. He wanted Drift. Wanted to keep him in his life. Maybe it was wrong to say that not wishing to end someone's life was a bad thing. But Drift suffered for it. He was still suffering for it. And in the end, he suffered even more for Ratchet's sake. To protect him.
And Ratchet was stuck with this knowledge. Drift wasn't even able to be angry with him over it. Maybe he wanted Drift to remember just for that. To hold him accountable. But then… would he really? Drift would just assure him he did the right thing.
And here he was still worried about Ratchet despite everything. Stupid Drift. Stupid, stupid Drift.
"Ratchet…? Ratchet, what's wrong?"
Drift's hands tentatively touched his face, cupping it when he found it. "You're crying..."
"You idiot. Asking me if I'm okay? Worry about yourself for once. Just for once." His stupid optics wouldn't stop pouring coolant down his face. There had to be a code to shut that off somewhere.
Ratchet was pulled into an embrace. Drift held him softly, helm resting against his own. "I could say the same about you, you rusted bag of bolts."
"I may not remember what happened, but I do remember you. Fussing over me. Taking care of me. I know that must've been hard. To see me like that."
"Shut up. I'm always fussing over your aft. I'm fine."
Ratchet returned the embrace, probably a bit too tight, as if someone would snatch Drift from him. He didn't know why. They were safe.
Drift tightened his own hold in turn. "It wasn't your fault. Whatever happened. I know you think it was. But it wasn't."
They stayed like that, closely intertwined, as if this were a contest to see who could hold the other more securely. Drift didn't seem to have any plans on releasing Ratchet any time soon. That was fine by him.
A chime rang in Ratchet's processor. The datapad beamed its found search results to him.
"Hey." Ratchet patted Drift's back. It was a bit difficult to vent in his grip. Drift eased up slightly.
"What do you say to taking a little detour? Once you've recovered. Get off this stuffy ship."
"You're saying that as if that'll ever happen. I'm fragged up, remember?"
Ratchet held back his sigh. Not the time.
"That's what the detour is for, actually."
"You're not going to try and trick me into going to therapy again, are you?"
Ratchet sighed. "No… no I'm not." He sent the information forward to Drift. "Did some digging. I found someone, a couple star systems away. Looks like they specialize in healing techniques related to the mind. Visions, as you call them, and the like. Spectralist techniques. I figured they might be able to help you, or… give you coping mechanisms. Anything, really."
"And if they can't?"
"Then we'll keep looking. The universe is endless, Drift. There has to be someone out there that can help. There's a specialist for every problem you can think of. Trust me on this."
Drift bumped his helm against Ratchet's. "I'm flattered you'd do all this for me, but don't you have your duties to get back to, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet?"
"In case you forgot, my hands are fragged up, former Third in Command Drift."
"Are you telling me… you're retiring willingly?"
"You better shut up before I take it back and figure out how to keep doing my job from a shuttle."
Drift's spark hummed against Ratchet's chest. "I'd like to go. With you. That would be nice."
His voice was soft, quiet. "…Thank you. Ratchet."
"I could say the same to you."
Took a little longer to write than I thought 😔
Thank you so much for reading! And for all the lovely comments!!
Edit: Decided I'm gonna add one more chapter as an epilogue