robothell | (no subject)

Megatron had, after the run in with Tarn, just left him. Well, him and his arm. Rodimus wasn't sure what he was expecting after the entire ordeal, but he was already taken aback at Megatron intervening on his behalf. Huh. But you can only go so far while carrying your arm and trying not to leak out anymore than you already are, as Rodimus is quickly finding out. Slumping against the nearest wall, he lets his arm fall to the ground while clutching at the wound and hoping that the energon starts clotting soon.

Maybe he should start heading towards the crater? There was some energon there that he could use to refuel, and maybe he'd run into Drift that way. But heading back there meant hauling himself and his arm in the direction he just came and ugh, he really doesn't want to do that. It's a better idea than any other one he's had - so it's with a fair amount of effort that he scoops up his arm from the dirt and turns around - leaning on the wall for support and leaving a streak of fresh energon along behind him.

Well, Cybertron could just deal.

Edited 2015-01-08 04:25 (UTC)

"What," came a sharp voice, pitched at a half-bellow, "the hell are you doing?!"

This was a rhetorical question, as Ratchet could see that the obvious answer was 'bleeding all over absolutely everything', but he felt a little better having asked it anyway as he diverts himself from his trajectory to the medibay, such as it was, and swoops down on Rodimus instead. His optics widen when he sees the actual extent of the damage and he reaches out, catching at Rodimus' intact shoulder and his side to support him.

"Back to the meidbay, come on," he says in a tone that brooks no argument. "We need to get those leaks patched now, and I'll make sure that arm is salvageable. After that, you can tell me exactly what happened."

He'd know that voice anywhere, and he visibly flinches at it. See, he's been avoiding Ratchet on the Lost Light for a reason, and doesn't really want to have to deal with the medic here. Except that he's the best damn doctor they've got and well, okay, he really could use one right about now.

"Hey Ratchet, funny running into you here." It's a strained greeting, and Rodimus gives his best attempt to shrug off Ratchet's attempts to help him along. He's got this, okay, he doesn't need your help when you don't want him around. He's perfectly capable of walking to the medibay by himself.

Except he stumbles and ends up leaning on Ratchet anyway. Great. Fantastic. Is he trapped? He feels like he's trapped.

"I've had worse. I'm fine, really."

He is not fine. Gesturing with his detached arm to emphasize just how fine he is is not helping his cause any. And he is moving - slowly but surely - towards the medibay.

Ratchet ends up half-dragging him into the medibay and he doesn't wait for Rodimus to put himself up on one of the slabs--he takes Rodimus' waist and braces his solid medic's chassis to half-lift him and settle him down, tools already unfurling from his wrist. He works quickly, patching the worst leaks first and starting to work on Rodimus' arm, his face worried and grimly set.

"What the hell happened?" he asks tightly as he starts to reattach the torn limb, as quickly as he can while still being thorough.

Rodimus watches with a vague expression of interest, shifting uncomfortably now and then while Ratchet works. But at least the arm is salvageable.

"Well first I ended up here, and then I got kicked in the face by Brainstorm. But only after Ironhide nearly hugged me to death." Look at how helpful he's being, Ratchet. He's edging into sulking territory but first he must be as obtuse as possible. Only a little on purpose. "And then I corrected Megatron on the matter of ranks and Tarn took it badly."

So that explains the arm and the giant dent in the shape of a hand on his other shoulder.

"Tarn." Ratchet almost snarls the name. "What in the hell possessed you to get in his way, are you suicidal? Don't even answer that." The arm is fixed back into place, though Rodimus can't quite use it yet--he's just reconnected the lines enough to stop the bleeding before he turns to Rodimus' scorched internals.

"What did he do, take a blowtorch to you?"

"I didn't get in his way, he was just standing there when I ran into Megatron." They were having a conversation that Rodimus interrupted is the accurate implication. It would have been nice for Ratchet to tell Rodimus that, however, because he absolutely tries to move it and makes a frustrated sound when it doesn't do what he wants. Ugh.

"What?" It doesn't register that Ratchet's talking about the damage he did to himself into a moment or two later. "Oh, no I got that when I set myself on fire to get him to let go of me after I kicked him in the face. Before Megatron started shooting at us. Did I mention that?"

To be fair, Megatron's presence is probably what saved his life but. Details.

Ratchet, to his credit, does not slap Rodimus full in the face, or attempt to strangle him. He does start yelling.

"What is wrong with you?!" he demands and mid-volume, still working on Rodimus to check for melted parts or ash clogging his joints, his hands moving quickly. "Do you have any sense of self-preservation at all, or was being deliberately obnoxious to an ex-warlord while his psychotic torture minion was right there next to him just something you needed to check off on your to-do list for today? How long have you even been here--what are you going to do for an encore? Oh--wait--" Ratchet's voice drops to a vicious hiss, optics suddenly bright. "Maybe you'll meet the guy you discharged on false pretenses and exiled while he apparently has amnesia and then not tell him what happened, conveniently making it my job." There's real anger in Ratchet's voice now, not just bluster, and he snaps a piece of plating he was checking under back into place and draws back, his lips twisting. "You're having a hell of a week, Rodimus. I'm almost impressed."

Ratchet might have well hit him, with the force that Rodimus recoils. Or at least attempts to - it's hard to try and get away from the medic who's working on you. His relationship with Ratchet is already strained thanks to the vote, and if there's anything he doesn't want to hear from the other it's everything regarding that event and everything surrounding it.

Someone who isn't Rodimus would just sit there and take it, but Rodimus has had enough. He's nearly died, he's been yelled at by Megatron of all people, he's found out multiple who are dead have come back to life somehow and the last thing he needs, the very last thing he needs is this. So Rodimus glowers back at Ratchet, ignoring the warning signs that this an argument he doesn't want to have.

"You don't know anything about that!" How dare he assume that he does? Does Ratchet even know what Rodimus tried to do - come clean, only for Drift to tell him not to. It had hurt, it still hurt, that he couldn't stop his best friend from taking the fall. "You've made your opinion on my choices clear, Ratchet. I don't need to hear this from you."

It's probably not a wise idea to bring that up at this point, but Rodimus isn't gifted with a lot of common sense.

"Yes, and they continue, despite all odds and any appeals for you to use the brain I only know through medical scans is indeed inside your skull, to be completely unacceptable. Are you trying to get killed your first few days here? Provoking Tarn of all people!" He resists the urge to throw up his hands, but he does remove them from Rodimus' plating, if only to defeat the temptation to clench down in anger.

"And don't," he says, his voice low now, lips drawing back from his teeth, "don't you dare tell me what I do and do not know about that. It sure as hell wasn't you picking Drift up off the deck of the ship as he was railroaded out, and it sure as hell wasn't you watching the look on his face when I had to explain that people had died when Overlord escaped. I'm tired of cleaning up your messes."

"If you're so upset about it why don't you just leave me alone! I didn't ask you to patch me up, you did that all on your own." Rodimus would appreciate that if he knew the reasoning, instead it just makes him attempt to try and get away from Ratchet - scooting along the berth to get further from him. "And I didn't do it on purpose. It just happened because he can't take the fact that Megatron's not a Decepticon anymore."

Primus, Ratchet. Rodimus tries to move further and then realizes that his arm isn't responding and he groans. Alright, fine. They'll do this.

"I never asked you to clean up my 'messes', you just do." He's never asked, he's always tried to avoid them, but he wants to change that. He knows he should. He has to be better, but his optics narrow at Ratchet's tone. "No? Well then I guess you're lucky. Because you're not the one that had to listen to your best friend telling you that instead of coming clean with the crew, you should let him take the blame."

He sent his best friend into that because it was what Drift wanted. And Rodimus-- he couldn't tell him not to. Not after what he said.

Edited 2015-01-18 02:11 (UTC)

"I care about Drift too," Ratchet says angrily, then stops.

He cycles his vents for a moment, dragging in ragged pulls of cool air as he deliberately smooths his hands flat on the medical slab and looks down at them, at the seams of his wrists. A lot of the anger seems to drain out of him, bleeding from his face and the set of his shoulders to leave him slumped and tired, bringing one of his hands up to rub slowly over his face.

"He's my friend too, Rodimus," he says, more quietly now, looking back up at Rodimus' face. "And I believe him when he says you didn't force him to take the blame, but it still happened on your watch. He blames himself for Pipes and Rewind and the rest, he thinks it's his fault. The least you could have done was come clean with him, even if you couldn't with the rest of the crew."

Ratchet shakes his head and reaches for Rodimus again, a little impatiently.

"Get back here, I have to finish checking your organs for scorch marks and reattaching your arm. I'm not letting you wander around injured, no matter how annoyed I am with you."

"You sure don't act like it," he mutters, not looking at Ratchet. But he does what he's told at least and scoots back because, well, what choice does he have?

"It's not his fault," he says automatically, because it isn't. Drift told him it was stupid and he was insane for even considering it, but Rodimus had done it anyway because Prowl had said-- well it didn't matter what Prowl said. "I was captain, I let it happen, it's my responsibility." This is stuff he knows, and regurgitating it for Ratchet isn't hard for him to do now, even though his expression is slightly pained when he does so. Because he doesn't like admitting to his mistakes any more than he likes being reminded of them. "But I-- I just got him back, Ratchet."

He couldn't do that to him. He didn't want to do that to him, shove all that on him when he didn't remember it all.

"Of course it's not his damn fault," Ratchet snaps. "It's not yours either, not really, but it is your responsibility. So shoulder it."

He looks down at his hands again, working slowly at Rodimus' plating, finishing checking and clearing damage before he moves to Rodimus' arm.

"You owe him that, regardless of the circumstances here. We both do."

"I'm trying," he snaps back. Even though he doesn't want to have this conversation with Ratchet. He's trying but Megatron is there and undermines him and it's awful. How can he redeem himself, how can he attempt to fix what he's done and to be better when he doesn't have the chance anymore? Optimus took it away from him, and-- well. He curls into himself further, turning as much away from Ratchet as the other will allow.

The last statement gets a sound of agreement from Rodimus, reluctant as it is. He knows that, Ratchet, Primus.

Getting yelled at Ratchet had - surprise surprise - not improved his mood any. Ratchet didn't know anything about the entire thing with Overlord, or anything else for that matter, and getting yelled at about it had put Rodimus into a sour mood. He's currently sulking somewhere out of the way in the city, head back against the wall as he flexes his now reattached arm. The welds are still fresh and shiny because no one's bothered to find paint or something and the paint scuffs he's received from the squabble with Brainstorm aren't painted over either, but most of the other dents have been hammered out. So that's something.

Not that Rodimus would admit that he's sulking. He's just taking time away from everything to think about things. That's totally what he's doing, shut up Megatron.

Ugh.

To say that Drift's feeling conflicted would be putting it lightly.

He hasn't been able to take his mind off of what Ratchet had told him about Overlord. About Pipes, Rewind -- his exile -- and Rodimus' subsequent confession after he'd left... Drift's mind still boggles at how much has happened. How could he have missed all this -- how could he not remember? Rodimus had suggested some time travel shenanigans, and while Drift's no longer certain this has anything to do with Brainstorm, he'll concede that point.

Drift had asked Ratchet not to yell at Rodimus on his behalf, but he also knows that's not going to stop the CMO. Regardless of what Ratchet says, though, Drift needs to talk to Rodimus himself. His spark is too heavy with the weight of what he knows now, with guilt over something he hasn't even lived to see happen yet. He knows it makes him a coward to hope he never does.

Rodimus hasn't commed him like he'd said he would -- Drift has his suspicions as to why -- but he doesn't have much difficulty tracking him down. Rodimus always has had a distinct presence. Drift finds him in a broad alleyway between two buildings, looking at least as miserable as Drift feels. He notes the sulky look on Rodimus' face, the fresh welds and scuffs of bare plating, and knows he's already seen Ratchet. He sidles into place next to Rodimus, his own expression a little heavy. There's a lightness to his manner like there always is, an afterimage of his aggressively cheerful face, but it's subdued now.

"Hey," he says quietly, his gaze settling on Rodimus' face. "I've been looking for you."

If there's one thing in the many things Rodimus has missed about Drift, it's the fact that even his presence is enough to make a smile come to his lips. Even if it is brief and fleeting, it was still there for a moment before he casts his eyes away from his friend.

"You could have commed." Which is a poor excuse, seeing as Rodimus didn't comm Drift either. He suspects - due to Ratchet's yelling - what Drift wants to talk about. And he doesn't - he doesn't want to talk about this at all. It's not as fresh of a wound as it was, but it still stings to think about even with his new-found resolve to do better. But even that's tempered by the fact that no one seems to think he can. Why else put Megatron in charge of his ship? Why else would Optimus take his ship from him?

And he doesn't want any of this time with Drift to be ruined by all that, didn't want Drift to have to deal with things that hadn't happened yet. Or risk losing his best friend after he just got him back.

Ratchet had yelled at him for that too, and Rodimus just vents a sigh and leans back, back of his helm thumping into the wall.

"So could you." It's not an accusation, just a statement. But Drift's not really interested in arguing with Rodimus or guilting him. He doesn't want to fight. He just wants to talk.

Drift wishes Rodimus would at least meet his gaze, but he imagines Ratchet must have done a number on him; he would know. His optics shift back to the scuffs on Rodimus' plating, the fresh welds on his arm that seem to go all around his shoulder, and his optics narrow in concern.

"What happened to you? Are you all right?"

Whatever else Drift has to say -- it can wait.

"Yeah, guess I could have." He flexes his hand again, making sure the fingers respond to his thoughts before he answers Drift. "Ran into everyone's favorite Megatron fanboy and the bot himself."

It should be pretty obvious what followed any sort of meeting with the DJD's leader. Drift's the one that told him all the stories in the first place, and Rodimus' own mind hand plenty of time to spin them into graphic scenarios of what happened to his friend while he was off not calling him during his exile. But that's behind them now, and it's with another rough intake of air that Rodimus looks over at Drift.

"I told him he should take up slam poetry. Among other things." Like 'decepticreep' and a host of other insults and names that came to him in the spur of the moment. Drift knows Rodimus well enough to fill in the blanks. He's actually kind of proud of all that this tie around instead of his run in with Tyrest, if only because this time it didn't end with him in jail facing execution. Progress!

No, Rodimus, not progress. Drift's optics widen with a flash, then narrow -- no surprise at all registers on his face, not at the news that Tarn's here. Aftermath had given him a courteous heads up. Drift stares at the weld lines around Rodimus' shoulder and he has no trouble, no trouble at all envisioning what Tarn must have done to him. Rodimus is lucky to be in one piece even now, let alone alive.

"Rodimus -- " Drift's chest suddenly feels tight around his spark, knowing how close Rodimus could have come to having his own spark extinguished. He stays in close, one hand going to the hilt of his sword, suddenly poised to move. "How did you get away? Is he looking for you?"

Drift probably ought to be more worried about himself when it comes to to Tarn, but he'll let the leader of the DJD get to Rodimus over his dead body.

Somwhere in his spark Rodimus knows that, that he's exceedingly (albeit characteristically) lucky to have ended his encounter with Tarn missing only an arm and perfectly okay in every other wat that matters. He doesn't know if anyone else has managed it, and frankly he's okay with that since it's a pretty awesome claim to fame. But he knows that if Tarn stumbled across Drift his friend won't be so lucky. He's on the List, he's what Tarn would consider a traitor and Rodimus thinks as coming around to his senses, only a bit more important than that. So he grabs Drift's arm with his undamaged arm to - he doesn't know what. Do something, anyway.

"Megatron charged at Tarn and he dropped me. And then tried ordering me away, like we're not the same rank." Rodimus isn't too pleased about that, mostly because Megatron wandering around the Lost Light, acting like it's his ship is an affront to Rodimus' everything. "Don't think he's looking for me - I mean I'd never thought a mech that big could move so fast."

So he's fine, Drift, really he is.

Edited 2015-01-10 05:15 (UTC)

The light of Drift's optics flickers slightly when Rodimus grabs his arm, and for a moment he stays like that, frame slightly tense, ready to move, as if he expects Tarn to appear round the corner any moment. But then he vents out slowly, relaxing, his hand falling away from his sword.

"Good." There's a world of relief contained in a single word, Drift's optics brightening again. He knows perfectly well what Tarn is capable of, that Rodimus had been more than lucky to get away alive -- and he's not sure Rodimus will be so fortunate next time. Drift might have commented on Megatron saving him, questioned his motives, but honestly, he's not sure what to make of the tired ex-warlord since they'd spoken.

But Rodimus is all right -- that's the important part. And now that Drift knows Tarn's got his best friend's number, he'll be keeping an eye out. Drift puts a hand over the one on his arm, the usual levity not quite returned to his face.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

No doubt Rodimus already knows what that's about.

Oh yes, he knows exactly where this is going. He could dig in his heels and prevent Drift from dragging the conversation in this direction if he really wanted to, but he doesn't think he (hah) has the energy to spare after being worn down by Ratchet. Rodimus dims his optics, looking away from Drift once again, but he doesn't remove his hand - fingers curling into the plating like he can make Drift stop talking through that alone.

It won't work. He knows it won't work.

A pause, as he steels himself for the oncoming conversation. Primus, he don't want to have this. Isn't it enough just to have Drift back, healthy and whole? Why does he have to do this, why does he have to tell him about things that haven't happened yet? He scowls suddenly, not at Drift but at Ratchet. Still. This is one conversation he knows he can't escape. More than that - one he shouldn't escape.

"Yeah, okay."

Hit him with your best shot, Drift.

Rodimus is so often accused of being flighty, of dodging responsibility, and once Drift had thought that of him too -- but not anymore. Drift wouldn't have tracked him down if he'd thought Rodimus would try to squirm his way out of talking about it. He knows it's hard -- of course it's hard -- but he has faith in Rodimus.

And that's why he senses the scowl isn't meant for him, that it's more a reflection of Rodimus' internal struggle, or guilt maybe -- because Rodimus carries a lot of guilt, far more than most people think. Drift can see the way it weighs down his spark. So when he feels Rodimus' hand tighten over his arm, he doesn't pull away -- he just covers Rodimus' hand more firmly with his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Drift's optics stay on his face, even if Rodimus isn't looking at him. When he speaks, his voice is soft, entreating.

"Why didn't you tell me about Overlord?"

And there it is. Rodimus winces, casting his optics back at Drift for a second before training back on the wall.

"I didn't-- I finally had you back, Drift." Selfish, yeah. He admits to that. But could anyone - except for Ratchet - blame him? "What was I supposed to say? 'Great to have you back, by the way the reason I haven't seen you in months is because I exiled you for something that wasn't your fault?'" That Drift told him not to do, told him it was stupid and he shouldn't have risen to Prowl's bait but he did anyway.

To say nothing of the vote. Drift had taken the fall for Overlord so he could remain captain, except that it hadn't mattered in the end - they still kept him. Well, they had until Optimus had named Megatron as co-captain and that had just made everything worse. The Lost Light was his. It was a gift from Drift, the quest had been Drift's brainchild that Rodimus had gladly helped along and then all of that had been taken from him and given to Megatron. Megatron!

He'd lost Drift, and then he'd lost everything that he was supposed to take care of in his absence, to say nothing of what it meant Optimus thought of him. Whatever chance Rodimus had to prove himself, to make amends, had been taken away from him. And that? That hurt.

Edited 2015-01-11 05:41 (UTC)

That Rodimus can't even look him in the eye tells Drift how bad it is, how distraught he is. Drift's optics dim, his posture slackening as the weight of it only settles on him further. He can't imagine what Ratchet must have said to Rodimus.

"Don't you think I deserve to know about that?" Drift says quietly, but there's no accusation in his voice, no bitterness. His voice is tinged only with sorrow. "That I had a hand in the deaths of so many of our crew -- our friends? Don't you think I needed to know that?"

He'd been opposed to the idea from the start, thought it was idiotic and irresponsible, but whatever Rodimus says, he shares responsibility for what happened. He'd gone along with it in the end. When Chromedome had refused to cooperate, Drift had agreed to waiting until the time was right to convince Chromedome -- no, manipulate -- into helping. Drift doesn't know if that ever worked in the end, but it doesn't really matter. The entire plan had failed.

"Do you think I was going to leave if you told me?"

"It hasn't happened to you yet." That's not a good excuse, and voicing it only makes it seem more hollow than it did in his head. After telling him everything he already had, the omission of Overlord is a glaring oversight and one Rodimus knows he can't argue his way out of. Doesn't stop him from trying. "Why should you have to deal with something that hasn't happened?"

Better to keep Drift from knowing the truth. Especially since he was exiled because of a lie that he told, no matter how many time Drift would insist that that was how it was supposed to go. Rodimus refuses to accept that now; not when he has a second chance.

"I don't know. Maybe?" Yes. The answer is yes. "Whatever it was, I didn't want you to do it." Wanting things to be how they were, just for a moment, shouldn't have been too much to ask. "I lost you because of Overlord once, Drift. I couldn't risk it a second time."

"But it has happened." Drift's optics are intent on Rodimus' face, as if he can entreat his best friend to look at his face by sheer will alone. He wants Rodimus to look at him, not to stare him down but so that he'll understand where Drift's coming from, what he's feeling. "Even if I don't remember it, that doesn't change the fact that it happened. If you hadn't told me -- if Ratchet hadn't -- someone would have, sooner than later. And I'd rather have heard it from you."

Drift doesn't want Rodimus to feel guilty -- he really doesn't, because more guilt is the last thing Rodimus needs, he knows. He knows how much time and energy Rodimus pours into trying to prove himself in other people's eyes. But Rodimus doesn't need to prove himself to Drift, not anymore, and Drift doesn't ever want him to feel like he needs to hold back.

He pries the hand on his arm away, wrapping his own around it instead. His grip is firm but not unyielding, fingers curling over the back of Rodimus' hand.

"You're not going to lose me," he says quietly, and there's a fierceness to those words at odds with the soft tone of his voice. "Rodimus, look at me -- that's not going to happen. I'm not going anywhere."

There isn't any resistance from Rodimus, and his grip shifts the moment he feels Drift take his hand - mirroring his actions, although his thumb rubs idle patterns across the black plating of Drift's hand. Staying still isn't one of his strengths and he's always moving, even in little ways. But his optics flicker from the wall to their hands and finally to Drift's face.

Something in his expression crumples; he just can't keep his face blank for any longer. "Drift..." A deep, shuddering intake of air that rattles his armor. "You told me to do it."

Exile him, and if Rodimus is going to tell Drift, then he figures he might as well tell him the entire thing. "I was going to come clean, tell everyone - and you told me that I should say that you were the one that brought Overlord on board." And he came clean anyway, and was still captain in the end. So it was pointless. Pointless..

Drift's relieved that Rodimus holds onto his hand, appreciates that he stays still with Drift long enough to have this conversation. Drift keeps his gaze steady on Rodimus' face, not to challenge or intimidate him but just to remind Rodimus that he's here. No surprise registers in his optics at this new information, only a solemn understanding.

"I knew it wasn't your idea," Drift says softly, although somehow his voice doesn't sound so heavy anymore -- it's lighter, almost relieved. He tightens his grip on Rodimus' hand, just to steady him, because Drift can tell this is hard for him. "I knew it had to be something I came up with, Rodimus, because I know you wouldn't choose to send me away like that."

Drift vents out slowly, none of the rattle that's in Rodimus', anchoring him. "I think I know why, too. Rodimus -- you don't have anything to blame yourself for."

Optics dimming slightly, when Rodimus speaks next his voice is more sure, more steady. "You didn't have to, Drift. I held a vote later, after telling them everything, and I won. You didn't have to leave."

And maybe that's what really bothers him - the idea that Drift didn't have to take the fall for him to remain captain. As if he's even captain anymore now that Megatron seems to be intent on undermining him and just being Megatron on his ship. Never Megatron's ship. His. But there's some comfort in the fact that Drift knows it wasn't his idea, that Drift knows he wouldn't just throw Drift off the Lost Light.

He knows that Drift didn't do it for him, the other had made that clear when he left. But Drift says he knows why so Rodimus leaves that alone; thinking it better left unsaid if at all possible. If he can get away with it.

Ugh, Ratchet would probably yell at him wouldn't he.

"I know." Drift's voice is a quiet sigh, a distant echo of future weariness on his face, but he looks oddly at peace. His hand doesn't leave Rodimus' shoulder, still clasping tight. He wants Rodimus to know he's here -- that that isn't about to change any time soon, even if he doesn't agree with Rodimus about his own exile. "Ratchet told me. I know. But that doesn't mean what I did wasn't necessary."

He frowns, and apparently the conversation with Ratchet hadn't completely erased all the bad feeling between them. "Ratchet would." Is he still bitter about Ratchet wanting him gone? Yep. Absolutely.

"How can you say that? You belong with us, on the Lost Light." Drift is an Autobot, just as he is or Ratchet is and certainly better than Megatron is. Hell, if everyone's letting Megatron be an Autobot then Rodimus doesn't ever want to hear anyone casting doubts upon Drift's loyalty ever again. New rule, once they get back to his ship.

Edited 2015-01-19 01:04 (UTC)

"It doesn't matter if I belonged or not. It doesn't matter if you came clean about it later -- because I'm glad you did. I am. Everyone else, I think they deserved to know, given what happened."

Drift vents out slowly, knowing this is hard for Rodimus, but he knows he'd put his foot down in the future, too. He doesn't see any reason to waver from that resolution now. He'd like to believe in his future self.

"I know I haven't lived to see it yet, that all of this is secondhand, but...I think I did what I did because it was necessary at the time. If I thought it was a good idea for you to come clean to the crew right then, I don't think I'd have left."

Drift leans against Rodimus a little, his optics dimming. "But that doesn't mean I'm not glad to be here, Rodimus -- that I'm back, for you, even if I haven't had a chance to miss you like that yet."

Drift might be leaning a little, but Rodimus practically slumps, wrapping one arm around Drift - turning in his face to rest against the smooth metal of Drift's pauldrons. The ache in his spark eases slightly, and he lets out a sigh and a rush of air as he just clings to the other bot. He's missed this, the comfort that comes from having someone like Drift there for him. And not because it's like Rung or Ratchet would accuse him of - that he missed Drift always telling him what he wants to hear because that's not true. Well, okay, not completely true. Because he's trying, he is, and he knows he needs someone to not do that.

Drift is different, because Drift knows what it's like to do something you regret and have to live with it. And right now? Rodimus could use that more than anything.

"You were just as unreasonable when I told you not to do it," he admits, coming to realize that arguing with Drift about this is pointless. But the 'for you' makes something twist awkwardly in his tanks - grip tightening slightly as soon as he says it. "Yeah."

Drift almost feels bad for having left -- that he does so in the future, anyway -- even if he believes it was necessary. But seeing how much Rodimuns relies on him for support, in greater clarity than he ever has...Drift hopes he won't have reason to deprive Rodimus of that again.

He smiles faintly, because he's not surprised his future self put his foot down about it. He lets Rodimus cling to him for a moment before he shifts, turning to tug Rodimus into a proper hug, pulling Rodimus to rest against him, if he wants, as Drift sits back on the edge of the fountain a little. He can see Rodimus is struggling with this.

"I'm here to support you, Rodimus," he says simply. "And it's not like I could leave the planet even if I wanted to. But I don't want to, anyway. I think this is where I need to be right now."

Of course he wants to, and he does - pressing his face against Drift's plating as he holds the other bot. He's silent for a moment or two, uncharacteristically so, before his lips curl up into a smile. "Good, or else I might have to order you to stay." He'd never actually do it, but it's the thought that counts.

Pushing himself away from his friend, Rodimus's hand lingers on his arm for longer than is probably necessary, only falling away when Rodimus gives a small huff of laughter. I think this is where I need to be right now. It's so Drift he can't help himself.

"Does that count for all of us? Because I think I need to be back trying to save Brainstorm from killing Optimus. It's kinda important."

He's ruining the moment.

Drift still looks deeply troubled by that whole thing with Brainstorm, but his optics dim, turning thoughtful. "What if he's here too, though? I think we're here for a reason, Rodimus -- and whatever that reason is, whatever the force behind it, I don't think it'd allow Brainstorm's plans to go unchecked."

Drift hopes so, anyway. But he believes in the importance of Rodimus' destiny, and it's hard to convince himself that all of this is mere coincidence.

"I think we should split up, see who else is here. It wouldn't hurt to keep ourselves well appraised, particularly if Brainstorm's been up to something while I've been away."

"He is," Rodimus admits, rubbing the back of his helm. "I tackled him to the ground in his alt and he kicked me in the face. Long story." It's been a day to say the least.

But Drift's conviction is nice, even if Rodimus doesn't find himself agreeing. He'll just deal with it when it comes - like he always does. Well, maybe with a little bit more planning this time. There's only so many things that can go wrong in one day and he thinks he hit the limit. "Let any crew members know we'll have a meeting sometime soon. Just to catch everyone up."

Ugh. This means he's going to have to talk to Megatron again. Ugh.

But one more thought occurs to him: "Hey, you got anywhere to stay yet?"

Man, okay, Drift really doesn't know what's up with Brainstorm's whole evil time travel nonsense, but kicking Rodimus in the face? Not cool.

"I think an organized gathering is the way to go," Drift agrees, nodding. "That way we can bring everyone together, get a solid head count -- and raise morale. If we're all together, it's easier to keep everyone thinking positive. And keep an eye on Brainstorm, too."

Sorry, Rodimus, we all have to do things we don't like. Drift wouldn't really be crazy about talking to Megatron either, though.

"Huh? No, not yet. Haven't really had a chance to look around for any place to stay."

"Not sure what we're gonna do about him. I mean the original plan was to follow him back in time and punch him until he stops doing whatever it is he's doing. But he's playing innocent now."

Maybe they should ask him to take off his mask? Just to be certain. They can do that at the meeting then, he's decided this.

"Great, then you can stay with me." That won't be a problem, right? It's a sign of how much time has passed and how much Drift has missed that he pauses and adds: "If you want to."

Drift raises a not-eyebrow at that hedge, somewhat uncharacteristic of Rodimus, but it's not exactly a bad thing. He smiles, his optics brightening at the prospect. Why wouldn't he room with Rodimus? It's kind of a fun idea, honestly. The Lost Light had been big enough for them both to have their own quarters, particularly since Rodimus got the captain's cabin, but here in the ruined city, it's probably safe to say there aren't as many comfortably inhabitable places to stay. Besides, it's good to stay close.

"Of course I want to," Drift says readily, nudging Rodimus's shoulder. "I take it you've found a place to stay, then?"

"Near the center of the city, great view of a bunch of destroyed buildings."

It's prime real estate, what can he say? But Rodimus grins at Drift's acceptance, shoving the voice of doubt that threatened to say but what if he didn't want to, after everything you didn't tell him aside. He doesn't have time for that and it's not even true now that Drift has said he would. Of course Drift would, it's Drift.

"I'll comm you the coordinates later and we can meet up again around sunset," he says, to give them plenty of time to cover as much ground as possible.

"Sounds good to me," Drift says, and there's a trace of relief in his voice. He'd come to talk to Rodimus with a heaviness in his spark, and he'd been hurt but not angry -- but it was hard to stay that way, after talking to Rodimus. It still hurt, that Rodimus had kept that from him, but all Drift really wanted to know was that it had been done with good intentions, if he was going to do it at all. And Drift knows now that Rodimus understands how it'd made him feel, and he doesn't think Rodimus would do that to him again.

He turns a half-step away, one hand on the hilt of his sword, but he pauses to smile and wave. "I'll see you at the new place, then. I can't wait to check it out."

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