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“He was watching us in Swerve’s last night.”
Ratchet looked up from his datapad to see Drift sitting on the floor with one of swords and a can of polisher out, but he was no longer moving. He frowned down at floor, seemingly unaware of catching Ratchet’s attention.
“Pharma?” Ratchet said.
Drift nodded. “Me and Roddy went by Swerve’s this morning to—”
“Roddy and I.”
“I hate you. Anyway, we went by Swerve’s to look at the latest damage Whirl’s done, and Swerve was… well, Pharma’s not exactly a relaxing character to be around. Roddy said he could start sending Magnus in whenever Pharma goes to Swerve’s, just to keep an eye on him.”
Ratchet shook his head. “He would notice.”
“I don’t care,” Drift said. “He’s dangerous. He sliced your friend in half. Do you really want to see what he’s like when he gets too much engex in his system?”
Ratchet stared at him blankly. “I know exactly what he’s like when he gets too much engex in his system.”
The haughty look on Drift’s face fell away. “Ratchet…” he began.
There came a heavy series of knocks on the door, followed by a brief pause as Ratchet set down his datapad, and then another series of knocks fell against the metal.
Drift stood up quickly, sword in hand, and Ratchet held out a servo to tell him to stand down. “Most killers don’t knock,” he noted, as he keyed in the entry code. Drift did not set down his weapon.
He was met with the sight of a very frazzled First Aid. His visor was bright and wide, his servos outstretched as though about to knock frantically against the door again. Ratchet frowned down at the smaller bot.
Before he could say anything, First Aid said, “There’s something wrong with Pharma.”
Drift appeared over Ratchet’s shoulder. “There’s a lot wrong with Pharma,” he said. “Be a little more specific.”
First Aid’s gaze remained on Ratchet. He quickly glanced around the hall. “Please.” His voice dropped to a quieter note. “I don’t think this is something the whole ship needs to hear.”
Ratchet moved out of the doorway, allowing First Aid to step inside. Drift arrived at the keypad before Ratchet even moved, keying in the code to close the door. His sword was still in his hand. Ratchet didn’t bother to protest any further.
First Aid’s servos were clasped in front of him. His visor pinched in the middle. He was a picture of guilt.
“What did you do?” Ratchet said.
His visor widened. “I didn’t do anything!” he said. “Really.”
Ratchet crossed his arms.
“Okay!” He held out his servos in a placating gesture. “So, I confronted Pharma. I wasn’t going to do anything wrong! I just wanted him to stop, well, you know, being…”
“Spit it out, kid.”
“He stares,” First Aid said. “At you. All the time. It’s weird. It’s creepy to watch. He almost always does it when your back is turned, or when you’re with a patient, or you’re busy doing something else. And he’s got that smirk, you know the one.”
“I told you,” Drift said.
That guilty look was back on First Aid’s face. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to get him to back off.”
Ratchet took a deep vent in and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You said there was something wrong with him,” he reminded him. “What, exactly, happened?”
“He…” First Aid cast a worried glance at Drift. “He didn’t remember that you broke the conjunx bond.”
“What?” Drift said.
Ratchet stared at him. “What do you mean, he doesn’t remember I dissolved the bond?”
First Aid made a helpless gesture. “I told him to stop trying to ruin you and Drift’s bond, and he said he was trying to fix it, because you were his conjunx. He called you that, specifically. He said, ‘Ratchet is my conjunx.’”
Ratchet could feel the anger in Drift’s field. Perhaps this would have been a better conversation to have in the hallway after all, but a part of Ratchet figured if Drift really wanted to hear, that sneaky fragging ninja would have found a way. Pharma was now a secondary priority. Keeping Drift from using the sword that was helpfully already in his servo was number one.
“Drift,” Ratchet began.
“He—!”
“—doesn’t remember what happened,” Ratchet said. “He was possessed by a deified ancient Cybertronian. Some memory problems are to be expected.”
First Aid shifted uncomfortably. “On Delphi,” he murmured, “that’s what he called you, too.”
Ratchet narrowed his optics.
“That was before Adaptus, and after you dissolved the bond,” Drift said. “He’s clearly not listening to reason. He can’t just call you his—”
“I know,” Ratchet said. “Drift, I’ll handle this.”
“I’ll handle this,” Drift offered. “Happily.”
First Aid looked at Ratchet. “On Delphi,” he said, “I saw that Prowl sent Pharma a message. I didn’t know what it was, only that he opened and read it. Pharma talked about you, always in the present tense, but you never came around, and your mission to Earth was voluntary, and so was the Lost Light, so we… I mean, things didn’t add up, but we never challenged Pharma.”
“Aid, I’ll take care of this.” Ratchet rubbed his face with a servo. “You go on back to your shift. Leave Pharma alone for now. I’ll be there soon.”
“No!” Drift said. “Ratchet, he’s clearly insane. Let’s just go to Magnus, get him to throw him in the brig—”
“No.”
Drift stared at him. “Why are you protecting him?” he said. “He clearly doesn’t give a frag what you have to say. He never did. He refuses to accept that there’s nothing between you. Why would he listen to you try to tell him different?”
“Ratchet,” First Aid murmured, “he honestly did seem surprised. I don’t think he even noticed me leaving. I think he really did believe that you were still his conjunx.”
Drift crossed his arms. “It’s still no excuse for how he’s been acting.”
“Wouldn’t you be upset if you saw a mech you thought was your conjunx going around calling another mech his conjunx?” Ratchet asked.
“You are my conjunx,” Drift said.
“Pharma doesn’t realize that.” Ratchet held up a servo. “I’m just going to talk to him.”
First Aid looked at Drift. “I really think Ratchet is the only one he’ll listen to. He sees you as a rival.”
Drift frowned.
Ratchet put a servo on his shoulder. “I won’t be long,” he said quietly. “I’ll comm you the moment I leave his office.”
“No need,” Drift said. “I’ll be outside the door.”