A/N: The premise is to put your music playlist on shuffle, hit play and write for as long as each song plays. One of those challenge thingies that looked interesting, so I filed the idea away for later. Well, drabbles came to mind while writing my other stories and no amount of PostIt Notes could keep ideas at bay. I've changed the parameters of the challenge just to amuse myself and because I can. Drabbles are based on song lyrics that can be used in a story: meaning the lyrics aren't just flowery filler, they tell the story.

Disclaimer: If wishes were fishes... I'd be dodging the feet of sports cars and jets. Rachel Milne is mine.

Synopsis: THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANY OF MY OTHER STORIES. What would happen if Rachel and Jazz were in the movieverse. You know exactly what I mean. Yes, DC is feeling angsty and frustrated. I've been ripping apart chapters and ideas and I can't get things right. Very-highly-want-to-scream-and-throw-things-frustrated. I tried to rewatch the live-action movie for a pick-me-up and received nothing but taunts of 'Don't cry! Are you crying? Are you tearing up? It's just a story! Don't cry now! I bet you couldn't write about that!' Then came the double-dog-dare and we have DC relieving some pent up angst by abusing Rachel and ripping our hearts to shreds.

I had another source of influence behind this. Back in November someone wrote an alternate ending for 'Thrown to the Front Lines', I tried to find the email with it, but I haven't had any success. So for whomever gave me the idea way back when, this is for you.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Reviews given much love. Stealing is not. Lyrics are in italics.

Song is 'Fade To Black' by Metallica

--

Life, it seems, will fade away. Drifting further every day.

This can't be happening…

"Ratchet?" My own voice sounds strange, strained and foreign and so very far away. "Ratchet?"

Sad cerulean optics gaze at me. The predominately grouchy medic's voice sounds just as foreign - quiet and full of pain. "I'm sorry, Rachel. He was gone before I got to him."

I pressed my palms to the unbroken armor on his cold chest. There was no spark beat. No familiar hum from precision-tuned internal systems. No drawn breath from intakes. No soft thrum from a working fuel pump. The energon that had not drained from his systems was pooling on the table from where he was torn… I cannot look at the wound. Defiance screams at me, but I know that there was nothing Ratchet could have done.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel."

Getting lost within myself. Nothing matters, no one else.

There are other optics on me, but I do not acknowledge them. The only optics I want to see are hidden behind the once sparkling azure visor. But it has lost its vibrant glow. I slide my hands up his chest to his face and run my fingers over his cool metal skin. I traced his lips with my fingers. There was no brilliant smile on them now. I would never see that disarming grin again. Never hear his musical laugh. Never hear him say those three precious words ever again…

Tears mix with drying energon. My tears. His energon.

I have lost the will to live. Simply nothing more to give.

Oil. Coolant. Energon. I am covered in his lifeblood as I curl up in the space between his jaw and shoulder, wrapping my arms around my knees.

Life stopped. There was nothing left in life for me. This war that claimed his life held nothing else for me. Revenge? Retribution? They were not mine to give. I would not reap their bounty. No amount of force or firepower; no laws or semblance of justice; no penalty or punishment. No victory. No vengeance. Nothing would bring back what was taken from me.

There is nothing more for me. I need the end to set me free.

There are other noises in the room. Other wounded mechs who could use my help. I knew Ratchet needed me. I could see him running back and forth in the remaining blur of life that passed us, but I could not help him. There was nothing I could do anymore.

Things aren't what they used to be. I'm missing one inside of me.

Many were injured; it had been a brutal fight in a place called Mission City. There was something important in this battle. Some Cybertronian artifact the Autobots had to keep away from Megatron at all costs…

But it was not worth this. This cost was too great. The thing could have destroyed the entire universe in an instant and it still would not be worth this. Not his death. Nothing was worth the extinguishing of his spark. The spark that beat for me. The spark that I could no longer feel.

Deathly lost, this can't be real. I cannot stand this hell I feel.

My eyes felt tired and I rested my head on his cheek. Time was still flying past us; the table where he lay and I sat guarding him was forgotten in the chaos of the med bay. Detached and distorted reality. It was unreal. Too out of place. It was like a nightmare had gone horribly wrong and I could not force myself to wake up from it. The smell of the energon was too acrid. The congealing oil too sticky. The med bay lights were too bright. The sounds too canned. The thinly veiled pain in Ratchet's barking tone was too real.

Emptiness is filling me, to the point of agony.

I was cold, and not just on the outside. My arms and legs felt physically cold. I numbly looked down at my chest expecting to see the wide gaping hole that I knew was there and shredding my heart. I could feel the icy claws that had pierced my chest, digging and ripping my soul into bloody ribbons that would pour out leaving me empty. I would be empty. A lifeless husk of a woman walking through the shadows of what once was.

Growing darkness taking dawn. I was me, but now he's gone.

Once upon a time I lived alone and isolated – unaware that I was incomplete and that the other half to my whole was about to fall out of the skies and into my life. But once that void was filled with his light... His presence… His love. There would be no going back. We were no longer two individuals anymore - we were one. One that could not, would not be divided again. I was nothing without him. And I ceased to exist the moment his spark was torn from his chest by Megatron's vicious claws.

Yesterday seems as though it never existed.

How long ago was it since I told him that I loved him? How many hours had passed since I kissed him goodbye? It felt like eons had come and gone and suddenly the memories that were only a few hours old slipped from the realm of reality to a vague and unfamiliar dream. Memories, feelings, and moments we shared, promises of things left undone slowly evaporated into dried tears.

I glanced up at his grayed visor, cracked and lifeless; another part of him that was broken in the battle. Pieces of it had shattered and pierced his face, puncturing his smooth metal skin with its ragged shards. There is a faint trace of the azure light shimmering in the clotting energon, a ghost of the bright light he was. I pulled a piece free catching my hand on one of the sharp edges; with cold fascination, I watch my warm crimson blood snaking through the cooled violet-pink energon, mixing our different lifebloods, intertwining us again. Life. Death. Together. Alone. I don't hesitate or even question the sanity behind my actions as I ran the shard from his visor over my wrists.

Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye.

I curl up next to him on the table and shut my eyes. The background noises of the med bay start to fade away and I feel warm. Familiar warmth. And then a pulse. A familiar blue-white pulse that swirls around me, calling to me, pulling at me. I start to laugh and give chase. He is laughing, too. I can hear his melodic voice and I can see that beautiful disarming smile of his.

I am going to catch him.

--

The med bay had quieted some in the aftermath of the battle. The badly injured mechs were in stasis while the others were sent back to their quarters. Ratchet rubbed at his weary optics and walked over to the table that he had avoided most of the night. She was curled up next to his body and his spark ached for her. This was not going to be easy for anyone, but he needed to prepare Jazz's body for interment. "Rachel? I need you to get up so I can move his body."

There was no movement from her and as Ratchet neared the table he realized that the congealed energon was a strange color. He did not need to scan her small body to answer that question, but that did not keep his voice from catching in his throat, "Rachel?"

The battle-hardened medic looked away from the table where two of his closest friends lay and shuttered his optics. He was tired of this war. Tired of it taking away people he cared about. Tired of all the pain it created. Tired of feeling his very spark fade away with each passing vorn.

The faint sound of her laughter startled him.

Ratchet glanced up and saw two swirling orbs of light dancing in front of him: one bluish-white, the other purplish-red. He watched in fascination as they frolicked and twirled around the med bay, taking turns chasing each other in a childlike game of tag. He heard the laughter again as the sparkling orbs floated up to him and bobbed in the air directly in front of his optics. The grouchy medic snorted and gave them a faint smile, "Keep each other out of trouble and don't wait up for me."

They bobbed in unison and then swirled together into one bright light that sparkled brightly before winking out completely.

Ratchet watched the spot where they had last been and realized his spark felt lighter and not as faded. Knowing that the Matrix held true the promise of reuniting with your loved ones somewhat eased his pain. Someday he and the others would join Jazz and Rachel; and hopefully, he would not need to bring his throwing wrench.

--

Don't kill me for this.

Feel like a challenge?