robothell | [ THE "DRIFT GOT HECKED UP BY TARN" CATCH-ALL POST ]

Drift's not really in a position to argue when Rodimus decides to push him over on the slab so he can climb on -- he winces slightly and lets out a grunt as he shifts to accommodate Rodimus. But the serious look on his face gets to Drift, it's not a look he sees often, not like this -- and certainly not about him. Drift's optics flick down to Rodimus' hands, both of them covering Drift's. The sight, the warmth of Rodimus' hands against his, tugs at his spark.

Not nearly as much as the words that follow, though -- Drift's let go of his ego enough not to be ruffled at Rodimus' imitation, especially when it's such a close reminder of himself. An arrested look catches Drift's face for a long moment, caught off guard by it -- his face softens and he lets out a soft vent of air, pulling the hand on his chest away from Rodimus' to cover his face again. This time, though, it's half in embarrassment -- that and something like relief, something that almost tugs his mouth back into a smile. The heaviness that's settled over Drift seems to melt away now, little by little.

"You're right," he murmurs, not quite laughing but sighing something that sounds like it. He swallows it down, looking back at Rodimus. "I would say something like that."

Rolling onto his side, Rodimus finds himself reluctantly letting go of Drift's hand - he's grown used to its weight in his grip but he needs that hand free. So that he can wrap it around Drift's middle and pull the other bot back closer to him as he curls into his side. This, Rodimus realizes, is so much better than sitting in a chair, even if his other arm is kind of trapped under his weight. He'll deal with it later, for now he's just focused the feeling of Drift pressed against him, warmth spreading through him at the small change in Drift's demeanor.

He'll take it.

"Yeah, you would," but his tone is fond, and there's a light in his eyes that hasn't been there since this conversation began - the beginning of a smile creeping over his face. "Magnus would say that it means I've been spending too much time with you." Magnus would always say that, though, no matter what. He understands why now, more than he used to, but it's not going to stop him from spending even more time with the other bot.

Drift feels fine, but Ratchet would probably object to him being moved around like this -- but Ratchet's not here now. It's just him and Rodimus (and Nautica, but Drift's pretty sure he heard her counting points of articulation in her wrist earlier, so) and that's something he didn't even realize he was craving. It was hard, not being to communicate with Rodimus before he got his voice back, but just having Rodimus close like this -- it brings some light back into his spark, too.

But the mention of Magnus tugs at his spark, brings to mind another weight Drift's been bearing in his mind. He curls in close to Rodimus, sighing out air softly from his vents even as his optics reflect the fond light of Rodimus'. He curls a hand over Rodimus' side, tucking his helm in against the other mech's.

"Rodimus -- there's something else I need to ask you about."

If it's bringing some light back to Drift, it's doing wonders for Rodimus - previous concerns momentarily banished to some unimportant part of his mind as he just focuses on this. Sure, he can't forget everything that's happened, but he can absolutely not think about it for a little while at least.

Or so he thinks.

"Yeah?" He doesn't move, eyes dimming in contentment for the moment. How bad can it be, really? "What's up?"

Drift's optics dim again, half-shuttered, but his hand smooths absently over Rodimus' side, as if soothing. He's not even upset this time -- okay, he's a little upset -- but really he just wants to know. He's not offended, and he doesn't think Rodimus has been keeping things from him with any malicious intent, but Drift would really rather not hear all these earth-shattering events from other people.

"Why didn't you tell me about Crystal City?"

If he hums a little at Drift's touch he dismisses it as unimportant, because it is. He shifts to free his other arm - hand reaching out for Drift's to hold it again. At the question however, he stiffens despite the comforting hand on his plating. Crystal City. How could he forget about Crystal City? So when he looks at Drift there's sadness in his eyes, lips turned down and regret clear.

"I didn't mean to," he says emphatically, hoping that Drift will believe him. "I just-- I forgot. I wasn't there when Cyclonus and Whirl found what was left of the Circle. They were really the only ones who saw Dai Atlas die, the rest of us were busy." Rodimus pauses, tightening his grip on Drift. "I'm sorry."

And he is - for Drift's loss and for not telling him earlier. It's something he's saying more and more to Drift, but he feels as if Drift is the one who needs his apologies the most right now.

Drift sees the look on Rodimus' face and knows it's genuine, and he's prepared to let it all go. He doesn't want to be upset with Rodimus, and there's a kind of relief in knowing that he doesn't have to be. But that thought vanishes from his mind almost entirely when Rodimus drops the news -- his optics widen and he looks shocked and almost devastated, the like the bottom's just dropped out of his tanks.

"I -- Dai Atlas is dead?"

"And most of the Circle." Like, ninety percent ended up dead by the time they got to them. So uh. There's that. Confusion flickers across his face, frown deepening at Drift's reaction. "Er. That's not what you meant?"

Rodimus didn't meant to just spring that on Drift, but he mentioned Crystal City and he knew Drift missed the whole Luna 1 thing on account of the exile thing. And the whole not being caught up to everyone else thing too, but he's still not catching on to what Drift's referring to.

Help him out.

Drift already looked devastated at the news, but hearing that Dai Atlas isn't the only one dead by far hits him like another blow to his stomach, and it shows on his face as he curls in against himself, half-doubled over. If Drift were standing up when Rodimus gave him that news, he wouldn't be by now.

"Magnus told me we found Crystal City empty and ransacked," Drift says, his voice distant to his own audials. His gaze is just as distant, staring past Rodimus or else not quite reaching him, optics pale. "I didn't -- what happened to them, Rodimus? Who's responsible for this?"

His gaze goes back to Rodimus' face, coming back into focus even as an unspoken thought eats away at him from the inside -- did I have a hand in this, too?

"Oh, yeah. We did." Good job, Rodimus, that might have been important. But he has an answer for Drift, and it seems so far away - Luna 1 - even though it's only been six months. But other events have, maybe not eclipsed but certainly overshadowed, what went on on the lost moon of Cybertron. "Tyrest."

He attempts to pull himself closer, to tighten his grip around Drift and to draw him in. "I said he went crazy-- Drift, he tried to kill every single constructed cold bot in the universe. The Circle gave him all the test subjects he could want." And then he scrapped them and turned them into the Legislators and sometimes even Rodimus has a hard time accepting just how off the rails Tyrest went.

Ah, right. Tarn is only the leader of many. Jesus Christ, Megatron, you got into some hard shit. June pats the plating of his leg, moving on to wipe some of the energon from his ridiculous foot pipes.

"Megatron's the one responsible for Tarn, isn't he?" June says, frowning, but her expression is soft, patient. "He's the one who made the D.J.D. in the first place."

Drift looks dizzy for a moment, the room spinning until he comes back to himself, still looking a little stricken. At least it wasn't his fault, but it's a small consolation -- they're still dead. He takes in the explanation with a quietly nauseated expression, glad that Rodimus is still tucked in close. It gives him a comfort he can't really put a name to, and Drift lets Rodimus tug him in closer, a sigh shuddering through his vents.

"Why," he mutters, not so much to Rodimus but just at the room around them.

High school is hard for everyone, June, including people with the ability to make their OCs into reality. He gives her a questioning look when she moves on because he's really not sure how or why this is happening to him.

"Yeah. Because apparently having a bunch of bots who go after people who've defected or deserted is exactly the sort of thing you want to have." He gives a huff, resting an elbow on one of his knees. "Most of the NAILs are people who ran away at the beginning or former Autobots. People don't leave the Decepticons and live, mostly."

Drift had been an exception, still was. But it doesn't feel like it.

Somehow, June's not surprised to see it. Not that she expects the Autobots have always kept their hands clean -- four million years is a long time, and your hands get dirty fast in war. She's had as much confirmed by a few others, more or less. June just watches him patiently, her lips still pursed in a frown as she reaches up to pat Rodimus' leg.

"So if Megatron's the one responsible for Tarn," June says, her voice oddly gentle, "why do you look so guilty?"

His thumb rubs circles into Drift's plating idly, even as his expression is full of regret. He doesn't really want to talk about this, hates talking about anything and everything that happened on Luna 1. But Drift here makes it easier, sets his mind at ease and his spark whirring calmly in his chest. "Crazy, remember. Because killing everyone was the best way to get himself into Cyberutopia. He thought he could get rid of his guilt by doing it."

But Rodimus knows it doesn't work like that, and he thinks-- he thinks Drift knows that, too. Guilt doesn't work like that. Never has, never will.

He doesn't know if it would be easier to live with some of the stuff he's done if he'd done it after the war properly begun, he doubts it though - you can't just blow up your city and justify it until it doesn't bother you anymore. It's what bothers him about Megatron, about this regret he just stumbled upon when Rodimus knows he claimed not to regret anything before the war really got going.

His optics flicker to June for a moment, expression crushed. He doesn't want to talk about the fact he can't protect his crew, especially someone he's just met. Magnus would know, Rung would know, and maybe he'll tell Drift eventually if he doesn't know, but... So he just looks at her before curling in more. Maybe if he doesn't answer he won't have to tell.

Seeing Rodimus' face fall like this wrenches at June's heart, and she almost feels bad for asking as she watches him draw in against himself. He looks sick with -- not just guilt, but loss and frustration, too. June just draws in closer, letting the handkerchief fall to the ground so she can press both hands against Rodimus' plating.

"It's not your fault he went after your friends," June says softly. "Tarn's a monster -- one Megatron created. Anyone would want to protect the people they care about...but that doesn't make what he did your fault."

"No, I mean -- " Drift vents out a frustrated rush of air, still looking vaguely sick. "Why this? Why all of this? We're supposed to be on a quest for enlightenment. I never expected it to be easy, but I just thought -- "

Drift breaks off, shuttering his optics. He knows how guilt works just as well as Rodimus does, most certainly better than Tyrest -- well enough to feel its pangs now, mixed in with frustration. Drift's never considered himself naive, but he'd never imagined their quest would go so far off the rails. He just slumps against Rodimus, pressing his forehelm tiredly to the other mech's shoulder.

His hand comes up to cup around the back of Drift's helm, holding him close. Rodimus wishes he had an answer for Drift. But even from where he's standing he can't see a reason why they've gone through the stuff they have in any way that would mean something to the other bot.

"After Tyrest, Magnus said that maybe it was a good thing we didn't have a straight shot to the Knights. That finding it like that would mean people would start justifying what happened." And making their loss less important. Rodimus had agreed, even though Magnus could have sensed his disappointment. "Maybe it's just not the right time?"

He is incredibly bad at this form of comfort, of talking like Drift.

"I should have protected them," he moans from where he's hiding his face in his arms. That's what he's supposed to do but he can't, he can't. He didn't. And Drift almost died because of it, Ratchet lost his leg because of it and the more he tries the more they die on him.

He doesn't know what to do, and he doesn't like that feeling any more than the guilt and the frustration.

June would hug that poor sad robot boy right now if she could, but unfortunately he is several times her size and she's all the way down here, so the best she can do is rest her weight against his leg, sighing..

"Rodimus..." Her voice is quiet and deeply sympathetic. "I know that nobody got hurt because you were idly standing by. I just don't believe that you let this happen."

Drift appreciates Rodimus' attempt at comforting him, even if it's not totally working -- he just curls in against Rodimus, nodding dimly. The timing doesn't seem to have much to do with it, honestly -- but then again, he's walking blind on this one. He has been from the start.

"Maybe," Drift murmurs, venting out a soft rush of air. He's still reeling at the news of all the death in the Circle of Light. "Sorry, I just -- I'll be all right. Thank you for telling me."

As if, you know, Rodimus hadn't totally forgotten to say anything in the first place.

Running his fingers up and down Drift's helm, Rodimus gives a sound of agreement with Drift's assessment of the situation. Yeah, maybe. "Should have told you earlier," is what he admits, however, because even he can recognize what a Bad Move that was.

He's silent for a longer moment and then: "You want me to stay?" Like this, with him. Sure, Ratchet might yell at them when he comes back from whatever he's doing, but Rodimus is willing to risk it when it comes to Drift. He's got nothing that needs his attention and he'd much rather spend his time here.

Hug the sad, miserable robot baby, June. He's so sad. He's so miserable. He is in desperate need of a hug. And maybe June's right, but it doesn't make him feel any better about it.

"But I knew he was out there," he protests, as if by sheer force of will he can make her understand. "There had to have been something I could've done."

Something he could do now, and the desperation in his voice speaks to that more than his actual words.

June looks up at his face, at the desperate misery in his optics, and something in her chest heaves. The plating's still a little slick, but June sighs and presses her cheek to it anyway, the closest she can really get to hugging him.

"No," she says sadly, her gaze staying on his face. "I don't think there was, Rodimus. You couldn't have stopped him. And if you'd died trying -- who would look after your crew then? I think they need you more than that."

[ THE "DRIFT GOT HECKED UP BY TARN" CATCH-ALL POST ]

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