Chapter Text
Pipes stood outside Drift's habsuite.
His hand hovered over the control panel as he wondered if he should buzz in, if he'd only be a bother. It wasn't something he'd really considered before. Bothering Drift. Sure, Drift liked to pull his chain and pretend to be annoyed at times, but he hadn't seen Drift, not since…
Pipes didn't want to think about Delphi.
Everything had been so chaotic, so terrifying. He hadn't gotten the chance to see Drift after Ratchet rushed him off, didn't get to see if he was even still alive.
Pipes almost couldn't believe he was still alive himself. After… they showed up, he was sure he would die there. It wasn't a good feeling.
The tremor in his hands came back. That wouldn't do. Pipes laced them together tightly. Not that he thought Drift would think less of him for being scared- which he was. But Drift had been through far more. And it was over now! He was here to support Drift. Support his friend. He could put on a brave face for Drift.
The door hissed open suddenly and Pipes nearly felt his spark stop before Ratchet's hand landed on his shoulder.
"Pipes." Ratchet hesitated for a moment as his optics quickly scanned over Pipes's frame before meeting his gaze once again. "How are you feeling?"
"Uh." He stalled. Ratchet was asking about the physical. Not the mental.
"Pretty good?" Pipes gave a thumbs up. That wasn't meant to come out as a question. Maybe he should've done two thumbs instead.
He assumed he was fine. That's what the medics who'd treated him had said before he was discharged. The horrible rust nightmare was mostly free from his frame by the time he'd woken up again at Delphi. Though he had other things on his mind at the time. Things he didn't want to be thinking about right now.
"Good to hear." Ratchet's expression softened and he gave Pipes's shoulder a pat or two before pulling away. "I'm assuming you're here to see Drift?"
"Oh. Um. Yes!" His hands fidgeted as he leaned over to peek into the still open hab behind Ratchet. "Is everything- is he okay?" The Med-kit in Ratchet's hand hadn't escaped his notice.
"Yeah. Just checking on him. He's alright. Recharging right now."
"Oh…" Pipes deflated a bit.
"Go on in. You can visit with him."
"You sure…?" Pipes stood up on the tips of his pedes. Still couldn't see Drift.
"Clearly you want to. Go on. He mentioned wanting to see you." The doorway cleared as Ratchet moved out of the way. "There's a buzzer by his berth and you should have my frequency already. If anything happens, anything, call me."
Pipes turned to see Ratchet walk off and give a little wave. He waved back. Ratchet was a lot kinder than he tried to let on.
Keeping his pedesteps as quick and light as he could manage, Pipes entered Drift's habsuite and swiveled around to find him still deep in recharge. He let out a vent in relief. He hadn't woken him up.
Pipes inched towards the berth in the center of the room, fidgeting nervously. What was he supposed to do here? Watch Drift sleep? Would Drift even be comfortable with that? Maybe he should've left and come back when Drift was actually awake.
There was a stool pulled out beside the berth. It wouldn't feel right to leave now. So he sat down.
Drift looked so peaceful in his recharge. A soft tarp covered his frame, resting right under his chin. Cables ran from his arm to the machine humming quietly beside the berth. Drift's other arm lay over the tarp, as if someone had placed it there carefully.
He wondered for a moment if it was Ratchet. He could remember, however hazy and horrible it was, Ratchet, tenderly holding his hand. The kind voice reassuring him, such a contrast to the harsh words spoken to him not long before the nightmare started.
Pipes shifted his attention from his still sleeping friend to the rest of Drift's room. He'd been invited over a few times- or rather, he may have slightly invited himself over. But Drift never seemed to mind too much.
It never ceased to amaze him how beautiful it was. Light gleamed off the swords decorating the walls, reflecting back off the crystals and ornate artifacts he had lining the shelves. And yet, it was still so simple. Uncluttered. Unlike Pipes's room. A little messy, he'd been told. But a good mess. Cluttered is the word he liked. His room was kept full of things that brought him joy. Trinkets and such he'd picked up from various space stations. Little things that might seem worthless to others, but he knew they held stories from all sorts of planets. He kept track of each one and where it'd originated. A sizeable list of planets he wanted to see firsthand, not just through the windows of a gift shop.
He just didn't think he'd also have to make a list of planets he didn't want to see ever again.
Pipes felt his hands start shaking again. He couldn't stop it this time.
There was no one he could really talk to about this. Pipes considered himself to have quite a few friends. But none that would understand. So many people on this ship so used to war and killing and death-
Is this what he signed up for on the Lost Light? The first real deal, Bona fide planet he'd been to and he'd nearly died of a horrible plague. The first planet he'd been to and the DJD-
Pipes buried his face in his trembling hands. No. Don't think about them. Don't think about them. Stop thinking about them-
He was spiraling. The room suddenly felt so large and menacing. Pipes felt so small. Scared. Alone.
Do what Drift would do.
Drift… would tell him to ground himself. Center himself. Something like that. He remembered Drift helping him meditate, not that it really worked… but he could try. Focus on his senses. He could do that.
Sight. He could see… well, his hands. Pipes looked up. He saw Drift, still offline. Alive. That was a good start. He liked Drift.
A mirror on the wall showed him… blue. Blue, like a spark. Life.
He saw the red glow of his optics. The white of his legs. Red, the color of medicine. The white of snow. Red and white rushing up to him, hushed voices. Carrying him away.
Red. Red everywhere, flowing from his limbs, from his face, from his hands-
No. No. No. No.
Pipes covered his face again.
Sound. He could hear… the machine humming quietly. Drift, venting soft and steady. Those were good things. Signs of life.
He heard the bustle of a Medibay full of sickness and dying. Loud beeping of machines not doing anything to stop how horrible he felt. He heard Ratchet's voice. Other voices, too. Unfamiliar.
He heard Drift scream. Desperate, ragged, awful. A sign of life. That they hadn't killed him yet.
His whole frame was shaking now.
Touch. He felt… tears. Wet. Wet, like snow. Wet everywhere. Wet and horrible. Is that what it felt like to die? He didn't want to die.
Pipes felt Ratchet's arms around him, holding him tight. He felt a charge in the air. Static. Crackling. Strong.
He didn't want Drift to die.
Vents quickened as Pipes curled in on himself. It was too much. It was all too much. He didn't want to be alone with these memories.
A sudden noise beside him snapped Pipes out of his head and he looked up to see Drift trembling violently in his sleep. He shot up in a panic. Drift was soaked in coolant, tears running down his face as he muttered quietly, and the shaking only seeming to get worse by the moment. What was he supposed to do? Was this normal? It didn't look good. Maybe he should call Ratchet, but Pipes found his pedes planted where he stood.
Drift's hand reached out weakly and Pipes quickly took it in between his own, spark racing in his chest. The machine Drift was hooked up to didn't seem to indicate anything was wrong, not that he could even process anything right now.
Drift thrashed, his fans ran a mile a minute. His words came out slurred, panicked gibberish. A nightmare. That must be what he was having.
Pipes squeezed his hand. Not too hard, he hoped.
"You're okay, Drift. You're okay now." His voice shook. Pipes didn't feel okay. But he needed Drift to feel safe.
"Please wake up. Come on… Please wake up." I don't want to be alone.
At the sound of his voice, Drift seemed to calm ever so slightly. Pipes let his trembling legs give and he sunk back into his seat, keeping hold of Drift's hand. He could do this. He could handle it. Just keep talking. Just keep talking.
So he did.