Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I make no profit from this.

Warnings: this story will contain adult themes, slash (mech/mech), non-con/rape, character death. It will also be very long.

A/N: I know this has been done before by others. I know it will be done again by others. This is my take on it.


The visored mech sat in the dark of the windowless room, turning the data crystal over in his fingers. Over and over. Thinking.

Ratchet had given it to him, but he was not certain why. What use was a file of Prowl's memories now? It could not be used as they had intended, Ratchet knew that, and Jazz already remembered as much as he could bear. Having those memories from Prowl's perspective would not ease this pain, this loneliness that no company could appease.

Even the questions he had pondered over all those vorns were now irrelevant. What did it matter anymore, with Prowl gone?

Over and over.

This chip contained Prowl's entire life, downloaded in those frantic moments as he had been failing before their optics, Ratchet helpless to stop the inevitable. He could import it into his own processor, could view it, could experience it, but it would not bring Prowl back to him.

He leaned back in his chair, staring upwards, fingers still busy. How tragic that a whole life could be reduced to one little data crystal. But the memory core was only part of what made a mech who he was. And the rest would never again be what it was.

Would it help to experience those events from Prowl's perspective? To fill in the gaps from when he had been away? To know for himself how Prowl had coped during the tumultuous times they had lived through?

He offlined his optics. They had known each other for such a short time in the grand scheme of things. Had never really had the chance to take the time to understand each other. Was this his chance, now it was too late? And should he take it?

Undecided, unsettled, he sat in silence and turned the crystal over and over again.