Ratchet adjusts Rodimus' hands again, working methodically, mechanically, knowing that he needs to get energon back into Drift's systems as soon as possible and knowing he can't do that until he's sure it's not all going to end up on the floor in five minutes.

"You couldn't have known," Ratchet says, barely paying attention as he starts pulling at Rodimus' wrist to help him lift plating, pressing out deep welts and gouges so they're not pressing against critical lines anymore, then easing them back into place. He heaves in a shaking vent of air as his hands touch the center of Drift's chest plate, almost hesitating, before he forces himself to start sealing over the cuts, burning the shape of the symbol into his plating. His teeth clench and his optics sharpen, voice a raw rasp when he speaks again, though he still doesn't look up into Rodimus' face.

"Yeah, you did. And he's not going anywhere. Not if I can help it."