Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.

Warnings: Ooc-ness?

A/N: Thanks to all the people that reviewed. This one is like a continuation of chapter 13. The idea came from it and the pairing generator had nothing to do with it. That's the reason this is an interlude. Tell me what you think of this one, cause I'm not sure if it turned out good. Like always, tell me of my mistakes and I will fix them.

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Time after Mission City - Blackout is not aware of this though.

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Falling from Heaven into Hell

One year after Mission City

There was nothing but blackness. All around him... Everywhere… Surrounding him, choking him, chilling him… At times the thought that the blackness was inside him as well came to his processor. And every time the thought came to him, he felt sick. If he could've he would've shuddered or, better yet, run the slag away from the blackness before it finished consuming him. But he couldn't move and no amount of trying had worked.

One year and six months after Mission City

Maybe the blackness had swallowed him already. Did he even had a body anymore? He wanted to think he did… He needed to believe he still did. Because with a body it was possible to escape this place. And he will escape. It was only a matter of time… But he'd been here for so long. Unmoving in the blackest world he'd ever encountered… And he wanted to scream and shout to at least have something to listen to, but his voice modulator wasn't cooperating. Not that it mattered, since he had the suspicion that his audials weren't working either. It just wasn't possi… It wasn't normal for any place to be as silent as wherever he was stuck in.

Six months after Mission City

What a great way to fall from grace… After all the power he'd held. After all the lives he took. After all the battles and the hardships this is where he ended up. Not once in his long life had he doubted his choices… his actions. He'd been loyal to his cause… To his one true leader. Not once did he hesitate when following his orders. But now it was so hard to cling to what he once had… What he once was… Or had it been all just his processor playing tricks on him?

Was this his punishment? In the beginning he'd believed that was the case. No… That wasn't what he thought of when he appeared here. He thought that the Autobots had captured him and imprisoned him. But time passed and the blackness grew. He still had something to amuse himself with. A time keeper… A lovely set of symbols that told him how long he'd been trapped here. Or maybe he was dreaming he had it… Now he wasn't so sure…

Nine months after Mission City

Something told him he wasn't one to have a big imagination so maybe he hadn't imagined the time keeper… chronometer was what it was called… Not that it mattered now. The thing had been flickering on and off for cycles… was that how the time was called? Cycle? Who named time anyways? But it wasn't important to know that now because his time… his chronometer was disappearing. The blackness surely was devouring it.

Nine months and two weeks after Mission City

It was when his only way to count time flickered for one last time that he felt horror for the first time in a very long time. Because, let's face it, no Autobot would dare cut a mech from everything for so long. And he felt fear. Because he couldn't move, speak, hear, feel… Because he didn't knew where he was but his last memory was of looking down at a tiny little organic native before it shot him. He guessed that the legends had been right and not everyone was welcomed into the Matrix because this was the Pit… Or that's what he thought back then too. Back when the chronometer began failing… That had been a long time ago.

One year and four months after Mission City

His memories weren't real. They couldn't be. All he'd known since waking up was blackness, numbness and silence. Silence that choked him when he tried to scream. Silence that chilled him when his audials sent ghosts of remembered screams because it was actually true when someone said that true silence was loud. Numbness that, could he move, would have him tearing his own plating just to have him feel anything… Even if it was pain… Much better if it was pain, because to feel pain you had to be alive first. And he desperately wanted to be alive. And the blackness that mocked him; told him all of his memories weren't true. Reminded him that there was nothing outside of it because it ate everything it touched.

Two years after Mission City

A jumble of memories that no longer made sense to him. A metal planet flourishing with life one day only to die in a second. Spilled energon. The darkness of space, that was not truly black if you'd tasted true blackness. Screams. Countless planets with countless organisms. Unending battles. Some sentient and some not. All of them dead. Strength. A leader he followed blindly. Power. A partner he had to take care of. Tyranny. Maybe they had made sense to him once… But he doubted it…

He understood a long time ago that he'd always been the blackness… That he'd always lived in silence… That he never could feel. But when his last memories, the last vestiges of a dream about a life he never had, came back to him. The image of sand from a place long ago forgotten. And the ghostly sound of rotors that brought back the memories of power and strength. The sound of rotors that told him he once had been something beside the blackness, despite his processor telling him there was nothing beside the blackness.

And it was in those moments that he wished… He actually wished… For his existence to disappear, like his chronometer disappeared a long… so very long, time ago.