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

Megatron steps back as Ratchet nudges him, feeling an inescapable urge to contest the determinism implied in that. He still had time to change things, there was still an opportunity to go another path, one where he properly brought reform to Cybertron - without resorting to a cruelty worse than what they'd initially fought.

But he couldn't wax poetic about his plan to change their world when Ratchet was still missing a leg, and was bringing someone he clearly cared about from the brink of death, elbow-deep in their own energon.

What could he say?

"It won't happen again."

Drift has been in and out of consciousness since he awoke from the coma, a little more alert each day, but the damage he sustained was considerable and the self-repair alone is taking a toll on his energy. But that hasn't kept him from noticing Rodimus' avoidant behavior. Drift would like to pretend he doesn't have a clue why, but he's pretty sure he does. Rodimus didn't look pleased when Ratchet ushered him out of the medibay so Drift could speak to Megatron, and it's not like that's a surprise.

The truth is that Drift hasn't really been himself since the fight with Tarn, and he still doesn't feel like himself -- the inscribed badge on his chest bears heavily down on his spark, a leaden weight that he can't seem to shed, and talking to Megatron didn't make him feel any better. Not that he really expected it to. None of this changes the fact that Tarn tried to take something away from Drift that no one should be able to take away from him, no one, and he'd very nearly succeeded. There's really no word for how uneasy it makes Drift, the way it bores right through every layer of him.

But none of that means he doesn't want to talk to Rodimus. Drift tries to shift onto his side, managing only halfway, and his optics are dim but lit, settling on Rodimus' form as he wavers on his way toward the door.

"Rodimus?" Drift's voice is still wrought with static, still raw from the recent surgery, but it's enough to carry.

"It's a little relevant," Drift says, but he lets Megatron put a hand to his wrist. Drift's gaze settles on his face, searching. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little surprised to see Megatron working as a nurse."

He doesn't mean it in offense, just -- surprise. His optics are more curious than anything, except maybe tired. "How far... When exactly are you from?"

Because around here, it's a pretty relevant question.

"Oh, god." June sounds more relieved than anything, though -- that Megatron got out all right and that no other damage was done. If she could reach up and pat his damaged face she would.

Scavenged supplies? Definitely not an ideal environment for a clinic, but...you make do. June understands that. She frowns still, but it's mostly out of concern and sympathy as she looks thoughtfully up at Megatron.

"'We', huh? I didn't know you had any medical training."

His crew? Okay, that's something June hasn't heard before. Rodimus sounds oddly protective, and that resonates with June -- more than Rodimus expects, probably.

"I'm helping you clean up," June says mildly, apparently not bothered by how quickly her handkerchief is getting soaked with energon. That'll probably never come out. "You're very protective of them, aren't you?"

Ratchet barks a short laugh, not unkind, his optics flashing.

"Damn right it won't," he says, shaking his head. "You know, you told Optimus to his face you weren't sorry. Looked right at him when we had you captured and trussed up in the belly of a ship hurtling through deep space and there was not a lot keeping us from chucking you out an airlock, and you told him you only regretted that you hadn't done more. That all the killing wasn't enough. Murder on an industrial scale, you called it, because you liked it." Ratchet's expression shifts, calcifying, his hands moving ceaselessly. "You told him you learned to hate in a cell like that one.

"And, you know. For all your lack of understanding--for all your disbelief and confusion--you haven't called me a liar. You haven't refused to believe it's true."

At first, there's silence as he takes the readings. He seems to focus for a moment, before settling back and releasing Drift's wrist.

"I imagine Clench would probably have had me well-groomed for my first gladiator match by now," there's a little cynicism that came with being constantly reminded of one's own grim future in his voice,"But I showed up here en route."

He brings his hands up to Drift's jaw, pressing his thumbs lightly over the mechanisms of his neck - particularly near his repaired vocalizer.

"Does this hurt?"

"It's toxic to humans," he says by way of trying to get her to stop. She should know that, if she knows Megatron and Optimus Prime. But he offlines his optics - submitting to this weird... whatever it is. Maybe if he gives in and lets her do whatever it is she wants to do she'll let him go and he can do something. That isn't this.

Best plan.

"I'm their captain." It's what he does, is what he wants to say, but he hasn't been doing a very good job of it lately. And he doesn't need to be reminded of it constantly.

"It seems that being inflammatory is something that I never ended up tossing out," he looks acridly at the energon smeared across his arms - from Ratchet's contact, as well as his own with Drift. There was a growing compulsion to wipe it off. He looks around the tool set.

"And what the hell did you expect me to do, by the way?" he remarks, a growing indignance entering his voice,"Unless every Cybertronian on this planet decided to collaborate together in some massive lie," he bends down on a knee after finding the first box empty,"I doubt-"

There's a metal clang as a tray is jostled onto the floor as he reaches inside, making him sigh in exasperation. All of this equipment was so small. He reaches for the wipe anyway, his irritated cycling of air filling the silence.

As the energon is cleaned off, he relaxes himself, and stands back up,"The evidence is right in front of me. I'm not going to run away from the truth just because I don't like it."

Oh.

He pauses in his exit - the perfect picture of someone caught in the act, guilty as charged, and so on. He slumps for a moment, curling in on himself as if he can maybe still sneak away. But what would be the point in that, Drift knows and he can't avoid him forever. Rodimus vents out a sigh and turns to face Drift again.

"Hey. I was just--" Leaving. Right. His own voice is strung out, tired and exhausted as he is. Thinking about how long it's been since he slept in something resembling a berth is also something he doesn't want to do. The helplessness claws at him and eats him up - the urge to just go and run and avoid is almost overpowering. And yet-- he doesn't want to leave. Not when it's Drift.

So he wavers on his feet, and gestures over his shoulder before his hand falls. "Hey."

Rodimus looks almost as exhausted as Drift feels, and Drift's almost inclined to let him go, just so he can get some sleep. But Drift has a feeling that's not necessarily what'll happen, and more than that he has a feeling that they need to talk now. He's been trying to learn to trust a different set of instincts for a long time now, and it's hard, but for some reason it's easier when it's Rodimus. And Drift doesn't want Rodimus to just walk out that door if there's something he needs to say.

Drift tries to reach for him, hold out a hand, but honestly he's drained from his conversation with Megatron, way more than he'd expect to be for just talking. But he's exhausted, and it pulls at his lines, weighs him down, and his arm only gets so far, hand shaking slightly, before Drift has to rest it on the berth again. Well, this is why he's got his voice back.

"Hey."

Edited 2015-02-11 02:36 (UTC)

"You're not going to get far in a medibay if you're squeamish," Ratchet says mildly, watching Megatron wipe his hands, but he relents almost immediately and his optics turn sharp and curious.

"You could have, you know. I'm frankly a little surprised you didn't. You've been talking to a lot of Autobots. You could've decided that we were all biased and Tarn is a freak outlier and you waged a just war and we're all lying in the interests of self-congratulatory historical revision. You don't know--you haven't lived through it yet.

"...look," he says, cycling his vents roughly. "I meant what I said to Rodimus. I'm not interested in--in punishing you for something you haven't done yet. It's pointless on top of being fundamentally unsatisfying, even if there wasn't a you here I could blame in perfect comfort from the moral high ground. And for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure you were at least partly yanking Optimus' chain when you said those things to him." Ratchet shakes his head. "There's a reason things turned out so... badly. A lot of reasons. And I won't knowingly lie to you about what happened. ...but there's also a reason Orion Pax liked you so much when he first met you. I'm just starting to see what that reason is, I guess."

Rodimus is ignored for a few minutes as Megatron continues his examination of Drift. Although lacking the sensitive built in instruments of the other medics, he'd managed to find some auxiliary tools to scan Drift with. They seemed to be behaving for the time being.

Taking readings and making tiny adjustments turns out to be the majority of what happens between major surgery and recovery, which is what he'd been intermittently doing while Drift was unconscious. Not particularly exciting or risky, and would have been utterly dull to look at if it wasn't Megatron who was doing it.

As it were, he'd gone through this routine several times before. Approach, scan, occasionally glared at by Rodimus, and leave. Only this time, something makes him look back.

"Can I help you?"

His spark sinks with Drift's hand; he did this, he can't stop this, he can't protect anyone, but he can walk over to Drift's side. Which he does, standing awkwardly rather than sinking into his chair. (It is his chair, he's the one sitting in it most days so it's rightfully his.) Bitterness clouds his features for a moment - what if Drift doesn't want him here, what if he'd rather be talking to Megatron, what if he's still losing Drift in a way he didn't think he could?

His hand hovers of Drift's for a long moment, fingers outstretched before they curl into a fist. Not out of any anger towards his friend, but at his own failings and inadequacies. Drift encapsulates them all. He has, ever since that moment where he told Rodimus they needed to talk back on the Lost Light. There are plenty of people he should have done better by but Drift - he always comes back to Drift.

Fishing around for something to say, Rodimus settles on the safest topic he can. "Tarn's been taken care of," he says, rolling one shoulder. Not dead - he wishes - but Rodimus doesn't think he's going to be so eager to pick a fight with anyone after what Megatron did to him. That Rodimus couldn't, and his face twists miserably at yet another reminder.

Edited 2015-02-11 05:37 (UTC)

"This," he gestures at Megatron and Drift. Mostly at Megatron. "Is weird. Feel free to take offense when I say I'm not used to seeing you help people instead of killing them."

A novelty he doesn't like because he doesn't trust it. There's a choice to be made, and maybe this one is choosing the one that doesn't lead to four million years of war and killing and slaughter, but helping out in a clinic doesn't count for anything. Megatron at least grudgingly follows the Autobot code out of what Rodimus can only assume is necessity. He doesn't know with this one.

"You're going to give me a spark flicker one of these days," Aftermath says, drawing in a long in-vent and gently pinching the top edge of his mask.

"Tell me when you go," he insists, letting the hand drop after a moment. "I'll be near in case things go South."

And things could go very South indeed.

"Good." Drift's voice is low, even a little dark -- a tone he generally takes care not to use, because what made Deadlock vicious doesn't have any place in what Drift's trying to be now. The brand etched into his chestplate is a good enough reminder of that, but it's also an unavoidable reminder of who he used to be, too. What made him Deadlock in the first place.

But Tarn being taken care of is about what he expected. He knew Megatron would follow through, one way or another. So it's not really on the forefront of his mind right now. But Rodimus is, and Drift notes the way Rodimus reaches for him but pulls back, the bitter look on his face. Drift's optics dim, his mouth slack and tired.

"I thought you'd be happier about it."

Edited 2015-02-11 16:52 (UTC)

"Yeah, I've been on this planet for about a month, surrounded by the stuff, and I haven't died yet. I'm not going to eat it, Rodimus, I'm just wiping it off."

Rodimus is definitely the difficult sort, she can see that right off, but that doesn't put her off too much. The winning combination of being the single mother of a teenager and an E.R. nurse has taught her a lot about the value of patience.

"Wait...you're the captain?" June purses her lips, looking slightly displeased. "Megatron neglected to mention that the last time I spoke to him."

Drift winces a little at the pressure, optics sharpening -- but he's not worried about Megatron hurting him and he doesn't tense under those hands, except for when Megatron hits a tender spot in the cabling.

"A little," he admits, his voice hoarse with static. "...That's pretty far back. So the war hasn't started for you, yet." Air sighs slowly from his vents. "But I imagine you already know how that's gone."

"I am happy about it," he protests. And he is - Tarn got what was his and was humiliated by the experience. Rodimus couldn't ask for more. Except he feels helpless and not in the way he did after Overlord where he wanted to be the one to defeat the phase sixer. No, this has more to do with his inability to protect them, the way that he continually comes second to Megatron in everything. Why should Megatron get a second chance to prove that he's on the level while Rodimus gets everything stripped away? He can't-- he can't make a difference, prove that he's learned, redeem himself, if he's never given the chance.

He can't even keep his crew safe here.

"Rewind should have been here to capture footage of it for you." Because showing Drift his tormenter getting beat up is absolutely the best option out of everything he could have done to make Drift feel better.

"Well he wouldn't, would he? Walking around like he's the only captain while Optimus only ageed to it beause he's so desperate to believe that Megatron won't wake up one day and kill us all."

Ask him about his opinion of Megatron, June, it's not the greatest thing in the world. Something in his expression loosens when he sees his plating look normal instead of the bright magenta of energon. That's better, he thinks, much better.

"Still not sure how you're breathing," because that's clearly the biggest issue at stake here and not the fact there are two captains on one ship and one of them is a robot teenager and the other is robot Stalin.

"Not just Autobots," he adds, holding his chin thoughtfully,"Neutrals. Defectors. Other Decepticons. Nearly all with their share of terror, or anger at what I'd do to them - and what I'd bring to Cybertron."

Megatron tosses the wipe into a nearby bin, solemn and a little melancholy,"Ratchet, I'm a lot of things. Some of those things aren't the best, and I look at them and see the future I'm constantly reminded of. The seeds of something terrible."

He lowers his hands out of his sight.

"But I'm not delusional. And I certainly don't believe in fate. So if I'm given a warning like this, I'll correct my path and make the most of it."

"I don't think you'd prefer the latter," he adds curtly, which he realizes ends up sounding more threatening than intended after he says it.

Well, it should be obvious enough that he doesn't want them dead, so he doesn't retract it. He just does his last scan before putting the tools aside, and writes down notes on a datapad.

"Technically, I'm still undergoing training. But I help where I can."

Ideally, he'd have more time to prepare and practice exercises on things that weren't alive, but Tarn's attacks and other unfortunate mishaps seemed to pay no mind to that.

So, wherever Ratchet needed help, he'd be there ready with tools and able hands.

"It's been a challenge, to say the lease."

"I don't think they will. Tarn also knows that without me there will be no Decepticon movement."

He holds his chin thoughtfully.

"And without that, where will he be?"

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

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do u mean starters or edits ZINGGGG

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omfg idk if we can continue to be friends

of course we can. how can u say no to this face

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uh easily. obviously. also have a few more quirk edits.

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ur right, editing IS your quirk

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you say that like you don't love it

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