After his conversation with Rodimus, Ratchet wastes no time in storming down to the brig. Quick as he is, he’s not the first one there. There’s a crowd gathered around cell three, and as he gets closer, Ratchet realizes someone’s busted the door open. A dozen members of the crew are inside, beating on Drift.
Drift isn’t fighting back.
“Hey!” Ratchet hollers, and everyone freezes. It’s almost comical. Most of these bastards are young, war-born idiots who still freeze at the sound of an officer’s voice. Good. “Break it up!”
A particularly bold blue and purple much turns to face him. “Are you really going to defend this t--”
“Yes,” Ratchet interrupts. “I am. And unless you want Ultra Magnus to hear about this, I suggest you listen to me.”
Blue-and-purple opens his mouth to retort, but one of his companions grabs his shoulder. Clearly, comms messages are exchanged, and blue-and-purple deflates. The crowd disperses, and Ratchet is left alone with Drift, crumpled on the floor of his cell and staring up at Ratchet with something like awe in his bright optics.
He’s not too badly hurt, all things considered. It’s mostly cosmetic damage, scrapes and dents, but energon splatters the floor and drips from a cut on his right arm, and Ratchet wants to get him to the medbay sooner rather than later. He’s still shackled to the wall, and Ratchet hopes that’s why he made no attempt to defend himself.
“Drift?” he calls, stepping into the cell. No reaction. “Kid? Can you hear me?”
Drift cycles his optics and vents sharply as if awakening from a trance. “Ratchet?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” He kneels at Drift’s side and, when Drift doesn’t move, unlocks the shackle around his wrist. “Come on,” he urges. “Up. I’m taking you to the medbay.”
Drift says nothing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react other than to angle his finials further back and keep watching Ratchet with that awed, confused look.
“Why didn’t you fight back?” Ratchet asks after a long, silent moment.
Drift just shrugs.
“Let’s go. Up, on your feet. You need some energon in you; Rodimus says you haven’t fueled since Overlord.”
Drift, who had been pulling himself to his feet, freezes at the sound of Rodimus’s name. “Did Roddy say this was alright?”
Ratchet rolls his optics. “He agreed under duress.” He agreed under threat of exposure, he thinks to himself. Selfish bastard.
“Ratchet…”
“Listen, do you want to get out of here, or not?” He tugs Drift’s hand, trying to get him to follow Ratchet to his feet.
“But Rodimus said--”
Ratchet growls. “I don’t care what Rodimus said.”
Drift watches him carefully. When he speaks, it’s just one word: “Why?”
“As far as I’m concerned, the legal system decided you deserve a second chance, and it’s not up to Rodimus to take that away from you.” It’s the truth.
Drift shakes his head sadly. “I’ve already had my second chance, and I blew it. This is what I deserve, and I’ve been trying to get out of the habit of dodging my punishments.”
“This isn’t responsibility, Drift, this is idiocy! You know he’s planning on dropping you off at the nearest prison, right?”
Drift flinches hard. Oh. Ratchet wouldn’t have broken the news to him that way if he’d known-- He would have been gentler. He’s never been good at that.
“I,” Drift starts. “If that’s what he thinks is best.”
“Damnit, kid, listen to yourself! You spend half the time expecting everyone to just forget your past, and the other half expecting them to shoot you for it. What is with you?”
“It’s what I--”
“If you say it’s what you deserve,” Ratchet warns, “I swear I’ll start screaming.”
Drift yanks his hand of of Ratchet’s. “It is! You know what I’ve done, Ratchet.”
“You’re right. I do. I also know what Rodimus did.” Drift cringes. “And I know he’s using you to get out of his own punishment.”
“He’s the captain,” Drift argues. “The crew--”
“Exactly! He’s the captain, so he should bear the responsibility. That’s how it’s supposed to work. That’s what Optimus would want. He would want Rodimus to own up to his mistakes, not shove them off onto the nearest vulnerable idiot with a guilt complex.”
“Ratchet…”
“Drift. Listen to me. You infuriate me. You are, without a doubt, the most annoying, most difficult person I have ever met, and that’s saying something. Despite that, for some Primus-forsaken reason, I care about you, and I know you deserve a second chance. Yes, even if you blew the first few. That’s how life works, kid. You can’t just give up.”
Drift stares at him, tears welling in his optics. He frowns, searching for something in Ratchet’s face or field or aura or whatever, and then, without warning, surges forward and hugs him so tightly Ratchet feels something in his spinal struts pop. “Thank you,” he whispers like a prayer.
“It’s gonna be okay, kid. I promise you, we will make it okay.”