Drift’s not in the medbay, and considering he’s one of the only members of this crew not known for serial medbay escapes, Ratchet has a pretty decent idea of where he might be. Sure enough, Ratchet hears raised voices all the way down the hall, before he’s even reached Rodimus’s office door. Got it in one.
“—just sitting there. Do something! Get angry! Hit me!” Rodimus’s shrill voice echoes off the scuffed white walls.
“Let me get this straight.” And there’s Drift, voice trembling just this side of level. To Ratchet’s audials, he might as well be shouting. “You’re angry that I’m not angry with you.”
Rodimus splutters for a minute, voice going staticky with that special, fiery speedster rage. “Fucking—yes! Yeah! I am! Why do you always have to be so stupidly self-sacrificing? And don’t fucking tell me you’re doing it for—”
“The good of the ship, just like at the beginning of this whole mess. You already know where this is going, so just stop.”
Before Rodimus can get going again, Ratchet pings them both. There’s a moment of absolute silence before the door slides open. “Hey, Doc!” Rodimus chirps, sickeningly sarcastic cheer painted across his face. “You here for your patient?” Behind him, Drift’s slumped in his desk chair, looking every bit as awful as he should for trying to walk so far on an injury like that. He doesn’t look up from where he’s picking at something on one of his servos. “Go ahead and take the room. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Rodimus pushes past him, but before he can storm off, Ratchet stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Rodimus,” he says. “Drift did it, didn’t he?”
For some reason, Rodimus finds this incredibly amusing. He barks a laugh and says bitterly, “Yeah. Yeah, he did.”
Ratchet lets him go.
Later, after Ratchet’s run enough diagnostics and administered enough medicine to be sure Drift can make the trip back to the medbay without doing more damage to himself, Ratchet looks him in the optics and asks, “Who helped you?”
Drift’s gaze skitters down and away as he says, “No one.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Drift’s optics are back on him in an instant, pale and glowing with fury. “Just because I’m ashamed of myself doesn’t make me a fucking liar, Ratchet. Just because I can’t meet your eye doesn’t mean I’m not telling the truth. I know what I did, and I’ll own up to it.” He lurches unsteadily to his pedes, forcing Ratchet to step back.
“Drift…”
“Fuck you.” Drift pushes past him just like Rodimus had, but at least when he gets out the door, he turns and makes for the medbay.
Small victories, and all that.