Drift buckles underneath the weight of it all, and he leans heavily against Ratchet for a long moment, his optics distant, unfocused. The air is still in his vents, his spark tight in his chest.
Drift had left. Drift had let Rodimus pin it all on him, to -- what? Save face? For a moment Drift can't believe it, can't imagine how that would go, but...he'd have to take the fall for Rodimus, wouldn't he? The Lost Light can't survive without him. It'd be the only way to recoup from something like that, to ensure the mission goes on.
The realization, even fractured as it is, weighs heavy in his chest but Drift pulls himself together anyway, pulling his weight away from Ratchet. His optics dim, and he vents out, slowly. He's not okay, not by a long shot, but he can't afford to crumble where he stands here, either. He has to find some way to make this right.
no subject
Drift had left. Drift had let Rodimus pin it all on him, to -- what? Save face? For a moment Drift can't believe it, can't imagine how that would go, but...he'd have to take the fall for Rodimus, wouldn't he? The Lost Light can't survive without him. It'd be the only way to recoup from something like that, to ensure the mission goes on.
The realization, even fractured as it is, weighs heavy in his chest but Drift pulls himself together anyway, pulling his weight away from Ratchet. His optics dim, and he vents out, slowly. He's not okay, not by a long shot, but he can't afford to crumble where he stands here, either. He has to find some way to make this right.
"You came after me -- why?"