Featuring: Sideswipe

"When I first met Prowl, he seemed like this huge block of ice that simply stood there, looking at me and Bro without even so much as a smile on his lips. Though not taller than me, he had this poise of someone towering over me, ready to hand over judgement if I so much as challenged him.

"I guess that was what triggered my first pranks as an Autobot. It was a way of telling him that I accepted his challenge and I dared him to stop me. And, boy, did we keep our hands full - him trying to predict my next prank and me trying to stay one step ahead of him. An endless cycle where there was no winner or loser – just the fun of the chase.

"But of course you don't want to hear that. You were there almost from the start, witnessing the whole thing. You were even the one that once nicknamed us 'Tom and Jerry'."

Sideswipe chuckled before he could help it, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. It was nightfall, and there were no other Autobots about to see the red Lamborghini sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back resting against one of the many doors that were in that particular area of the Autobot City.

It was just as well. Sideswipe wanted only one Autobot to hear what he had to say.

"It's weird, you know. One would have expected us to hate each other after all those years we drove each other crazy. But, the truth is… At those moments, I'd forget there was a war around us, so it was okay to feel carefree. I think he suspected as much, and that was why he always tolerated my antics when others would have discharged me long ago. That… and he didn't want me separated from Sunstreaker."

He clenched his hands into fists in an attempt to compose himself, trying not to think of the sorrow that was gnawing at his spark; but it was too blasted hard.

"For someone that was supposedly so cold and emotionless, he sure does a good job at making me wish he was still here. But I don't have to tell you that either, do I?"

The only answer he got was silence. Sideswipe pressed his head wearily against the door.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is… Even though I probably don't understand how you feel, I know it hurts. And if you want to talk to someone, I'm here. I'm not Prowl, but I'll still listen. Just don't shut yourself out, Bluestreak, okay?

"You're not alone."

Yet there was no answer from the other side of the door. Bluestreak remained seated on his berth with a badly battered picture in his hands, one of the few things that could be salvaged from that ill-fated shuttle that cost so many lives. Trembling fingers traced the familiar black and white form the gunner would never see again, and he kept staring at it, his optics filled with tears that Bluestreak stubbornly refused to shed. He knew that it wouldn't bring Prowl back.

Nothing would.