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Drift felt weightless as bursts of color shifted all around him.
The blackness surrounding him twisted and rippled, leaving him feeling disoriented for a moment until everything came into focus as the darkness finally receded.
Drift was standing in a room, no a corridor of some sort.
The hall was wide and seemed to stretch on for eternity, or at least as far as the sword mech's optics could see.The colors seemed muted, almost as if a cool tinted filter had been placed over everything, but that did nothing to detract from the beauty of his surroundings.
Tall collums joined together by extravagant archways framed the long hall. Each arch had their own unique intricate pattern that had carefully been etched into them, decorated with all manner of designs, swirls and golden glyphs. The glyphs were in what looked like a Cybertronian dialect, but they looked ancient, and like nothing the spiritualist swordsmech could distinguish.
Drift looked up in awe at the robust murals painted along the curved architecture of the ceiling. They were depictions of Cybertron's rich history, moments frozen in time, perfectly captured and immortalized in all of their infinite glory.
Ahead of him, scattered all throughout the long corridor, there were mechs, so many mechs, femmes, bots, and sparklings of all sizes, colors, and alt-modes. Drift didn't think he had ever seen so many bots in one place. They all seemed to be engaged in something, whether it be chatting excitedly amongst each other, singing, laughing, dancing, or any other possible sort of merriment that was to be had.
Each bot wore their happiness with equal parts excitement and bright smiles that reached their optics and filled the air with a pleasant energy that almost seemed to buzz over his plating. No one appeared to be upset or in any sort of distress, or even experiencing any other range of negative emotions he was unfortunately so familiar with. It was as intriguing as it was disconcerting.
Still, Drift was intrigued to say the very least and he wished to know more about this place....wherever this was.
Drift began a slow trek down the long hall, feeling a strange invisible force guiding him as he continued to take in his surroundings and the bots all around him. Despite the large number of mechs, it wasn't crowded and Drift was able to maneuver through them with relative ease.
They hadn't even seemed to have noticed him until now, but as Drift made a path through the gathering of mecha, helm after helm turned to gaze at him with silent curiosity, optics fix upon him, following his every movement. It made him feel uneasy, as if he were an outsider intruding upon something sacred.
Still, he pressed forward, feeling the pull again, beckoning him forth. Why was he here? What was this place, and what would he find?
Drift continued like this for sometime, moving through a sea of endless bodies, optics locked onto him, making him feel exposed and vulnerable under their watchful stares. Impatience and frustration began to mount as he continued his search aimlessly, shifting
to desperation when he felt he couldn't answer the silent command guiding his frame quickly enough.
He didn't understand. What was he searching for? He was tempted to almost stop this seemingly pointless search when he noticed that he had stopped moving of his own accord. His pedes locked in place as his optics focused on one particular mech, standing bright and tall, with his back turned to him.
Optics widened in shock as he took in the familiar form of the mech standing a foot away from him. The white plating, the helm shape, the turbines, the folded wings, they looked like that of the unique armor design that the Circle of Light members donned so many centuries ago, and it reminded him of one mech in particular.
"Wing." Drift heard himself whisper in a voice unfamiliar to himself, one of reverence but also laden fear and doubt.
Time seemed to almost come to a halt as the fallen knight slowly turned round to gaze silently upon him. His white plating shimmered more brilliantly than Drift had ever remembered. Those golden optics still held the same vibrant glow they always had as he was met with a smile that almost brought him to his knees, struggling to stay upright as he was almost brought down to them by the force of it, of Wing....here.
The jet was so beautiful. He always had been, and he looked nothing short of ethereal now. The very air around him was illuminated by an aura so effervescent, it seemed to over shadow the others with its mere presence.
Drift felt unclean, unworthy to be in the presence of such a divine being, but felt himself step towards the other regardless.
Longing overruled any other thought Drift might have had as he now stood in front of the mech that looked so much like the one he still mourned even now.
Being this close to the fallen knight, Drift could feel patience, love, and a silent urging encouraging him as he slowly lifted a trembling servo to a pristine cheek plate, servos just lightly grazing the cool metal. A delicate black servo came up to rest on the back of the speedster's, soothingly stroking the back of it.
"Wing." Drift said again, vocals raspy with emotion.
The white knight's smile widened before he answered with a simple, "Yes."
A choked sob left Drift's vocalizer before he could even stop it. Raw emotion swept over him as the full realization hit him. Wing was offline, but he was standing right there, in front of him. So that must mean Drift was offline too, right? The how's and whys of it didn't seem to matter at this moment.
He was finally reunited with the mech that had changed his life, that had shown him things like compassion, love, and another way to live. Now, they could be together again...but something about that didn't seem right.
What about the journey to find the Knights of Cybertron?
What about Rodimus and the Lost Light?
What about....Ratchet?
Guilt ate at Drift as he thought of the crew, of his best friend and ultimately of his mate. It was too much. Full sobs wracked the swordmech's body as he sank to the floor, no longer able to sustain himself with the weight of his own feelings baring down upon him. He felt his whole frame tremble as optic fluid spilled freely from tightly shut optics, just letting himself feel for once without fear of judgement.
It wasn't long before the speedster felt the welcomed weight of warm arms enveloping him, holding him as though he were something precious. He was pulled close as he tucked his head into equally warm neck cables, vaguely noticing that there was no scent there.
Gentle strokes to his back lulled him into a state of calm until the sobs finally withered away. Drift pulled back to look into Wing's optics, feeling both of the jet's servos come up to cup his face as the jet leaned forward to lightly rest their helms against each other together.
"You have ventured far Drift, much further than is generally permissible, but your aptitude for meditation has certainly improved." Wing said with an amused smile and a twinkle in those golden optics as he gently stroked the speedster's face.
Drift pulled back slightly, feeling confused for a moment before he remembered that he HAD been meditating just a few minutes prior. So this wasn't real then. It was just another elaborate scenario his subconscious had conjured up. Sometimes during these sessions he would see visions of the past and rarely even the future, but most of the time they only held a margin of significance. This vision was by far the strangest he had ever encountered.
"None of this is real then." The speedster finally stated in a low voice with downcast optics, trying not to let the disappointment he felt seep onto the other mech.
"It is. You are here in spirit. Your physical body is still safely aboard the Lost Light. "The white knight explained.
"But how is that possible, and where is here?" the racer questioned, feeling his patience beginning to wane.
Wing gracefully stood up and offered his servos which he accepted, helping the Autobot spiritualist to his pedes. Wing only released one of his servos as he gently lead Drift further down the infinitely long corridor and making sure to give it a reassuring squeeze from time to time. Mechs were still turning their helms as the pair walked past them, making Drift shiver under their merciless scrutiny.
"This is where our kind come to rest. You found your way here through a process known as astral projection. The spirit separates, though not entirely, from the body and can navigate through the astral plane, to where those who have past reside. Only those adept in the highest forms of meditation can achieve this." the white knight explained as they continued their trek onward to a destination Drift was still unsure of
Drift took a moment to process the information he'd been given. So was this the well then?
"Not quite how I imagined the well of sparks to look. " he finally said giving voice to his thoughts yet kept the question about why he was still being stared at so intently to himself.
Wing turned to him with a knowing smile " It's manifestation varies depending on the interpretation of each individual mech. So in other words, you could say it looks EXACTLY like how you'd imagined."
"So you're not seeing what I'm seeing? " Drift asked curiously as he gave his surroundings another once over.
Wing responded with a soft laugh."There's a bit more to it than that, and you will learn when it is your time, but for now, your fate lies elsewhere." the jet finished with a smile, lightly squeezing the speedster shoulder as they stopped in front of some sort of gateway.
"Wait! I want you to come with me! If I got here, then there's a way for you to leave right?" Drift asked without even bothering to hide the hope staining his vocals. Ratchet would understand once he sat him down and talked to him. They'd make it work. The prospect of having both mechs he loved together made him almost lightheaded with giddiness.
"I'm sorry Drift, but It doesn't work like that. We will be reunited once again, in due time. I swear to you.."
"It's all my fault..." the speedster suddenly cut him off, clenching his optics shut to keep another stream of angry tears from escaping.
"Listen to me, " It was Wing's turn to interrupt this time as he pulled Drift against his chestplate, wrapping himself around the distraught speedster.
"You are not responsible for what happened to me. You never were. I chose to fight along side you and the people of my city, and if given the choice again, I would do it without hesitation. I regret nothing, Drift and I can only hope that when your time comes, you are able to part from the physical world on the same terms." Wing concluded as he held Drift at arms length again so that he could look into his optics again.
"Easy for someone who didn't have a lifetime of blood on their hands to say." Drift muttered averting his gaze to the floor as he suddenly felt his own bitterness rear it's ugly head.
The jet placed both servos on the racer's shoulders this time as he spoke, "I am not without fault either. The nature of our sins may have differed, but they weigh on the spark all the same. You can choose to shoulder them at the risk of being buried under their weight. Or, you can cast them down, use them as stepping stones, bringing with you the experience and knowledge you have gained from them to forge a brighter path for the betterment of yourself and those around you."
Drift understood what Wing was saying. Ratchet had commented several times on how he always carried the weight of his own guilt upon himself and how it wasn't doing anyone any good, least of all him. Wing wanted him to take his lessons from the past, learn from them, and become something better, but how could he do that when everytime Drift had made any sort of progress, he always seemed to fall two steps back. He felt like he would never be the mech Wing or Ratchet for that matter, wanted for him to be. He would always fall short, just as he always had.
Wing must have been able to read his expression because he felt arms pull him into a warm embrace once again, offering him comfort.
"Your journey has been a long one, filled with strife and hardships that would have broken a lesser mech. You have learned much and you will continue to do so, bringing forth with you the lessons you have learned and the wisdom they bring you. Now, you must go back." Wing concluded again as he held a servo towards the glowing gateway.
"Where?" Drift asked feigning ignorance because he more than likely knew the answer to that question but didn't want to return quite yet.
"He's waiting for you." was the jet's vague reply.
"Who?" Drift asked but with more genuine curiosity this time.
Wing beamed brightly at him, "Another who loves you dearly. Go to him, Drift." Wing whispered as he stroked Drift's face one last time and pressed a kiss to his lip plates....
The world suddenly went black.
-----------------------------
Drift groaned as he slowly onlined his optics, re-calibrating them to take in his surroundings, feeling a sudden weight on his shoulder, the comforting weight of a servo.
"You didn't respond to any of my comms." Drift immediately recognized the raspy vocals as belonging to his partner and senior medic of the ship.
"Ratchet?" the speedster asked groggily even as his lover's frame finally came into focus. It felt good to say his name.
" You had me worried sick, kid." Ratchet said in that admonishing tone which meant business and that Drift was probably going to have to pay for this in one way or another later on.
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure what happened. I probably just overworked myself or something." Drift concluded as he turned away from the medic's hard gaze. He felt bad for not being truthful, but its not as if Ratchet would have believed him if he had been anyways.
A long sigh came from the ambulance before he spoke up again, "I told you to take it easy, kid. You're working too many cycles. You need to recharge just like every other mech out there."
"You're one to talk." the red and white spiritualist said with a smirk across his face plates. He knew he shouldn't be giving his lover anymore of a hard time than he already has, but he can't help it.
"Yeah, well at least I'm not passing out randomly in the middle of the floor of my habsuite because I'm so exhausted I can't even make it to my own berth." Ratchet said with as much exasperation as he could more than likely muster at that point after his own long shift in the medbay.
"Fair point." Drift concluded as he finally stood up with a little help from his mate and made his way over to the berth, lightly tugging the ambulance with him whom only protested mildly as he sat at the edge.
"Thank you." the swordsmech said in a somewhat muffled voice due to the various berth covers now pulled up to the speedster's nasel ridge as he reveled in the warmth they provided him.
"For what, doing my job?" Ratchet asked sounded downright perplexed or offended that Drift even thought for a moment that being left untreated or uncared for was even an option with him.
Drift smiled brightly as he looked at his mate with a profound love he had only held for one other mech in his existence. "For being there for me, caring about me and putting up with all my slag."
This time the spiritualist was answered with a smile of his own, stretching from audial to audial across the medic's face places as he spoke, "Well you certainly don't make it easy that's for sure." the playfulness very evident in the older bot's vocals.
A robust laugh burst from deep within Drift's chest plate as he moved to lightly tug the other mech towards him, hoping he wouldn't be stubborn and would take the hint to join him.
Ratchet was deciding to be merciful today it seemed because the next moment Drift found the warm frame of his lover pressed up right against him in the best of ways.
The former Autobot third in command wrapped his arms around the warm medic and burying his faceplate against the older bot's neck cables,"Thank you, Ratch." Drift whispered as he felt a pair of arms wrap around him as his own tightened their hold.
"Stop saying that. I'm here because I wanna be, not because I'm doing you any favors or anything." Ratchet said matter of factly, and with a nonchalance only he was capable of.
Drift chuckled again at his lover's feigned indifference. He may find himself thinking about Wing from time to time and was even more grateful to have been afforded such an incredibly spiritual encounter with his former teacher. Drift doubted he would ever forget the jet and how he had changed his life
but this...
here....now...
with Ratchet...
This is where he wanted to be too.