Author's Note:
I get these little story-images in my head as I'm falling asleep. They are NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. They are only apocryphal even in my own personal universe canon. But here they are; make of them what you will.

"Counterpart" definition: In my universe, I experimented for a while with the idea that transformers were originally made in mech and femme counterpart pairs. (I'd say "brother-sister," but that carries too many human connotations.)

This story takes place sometime around the events of Act 5 in my Transformation story arc...

I had the song "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want" by The Smiths in my head, and this is what came out.

Good times, for a change...

The unusual, lilting sound echoed uncertainly down the underground corridors deep in the heart of Cybertron.

See, the luck I've had
Can make a good man
Turn bad...

Optimus tuned in his audial receptors. He'd heard something like this before... Where was it? Oh yes. Earth.
Earth music was filtering up from somewhere below him. Curious, he left his workstation, and dropped down the nearest trapdoor to investigate.

So please please please
Let me, let me, let me...

As he made his way through the warm, velvet-brown dimness in the twisting, gnarled passageway of the nearly-organic core of his homeworld, he began to hear something else, a kind of faltering undertone following the music.

Let me get what I want
This time.

He entered one of the old workrooms, and found Megatron, sitting at a table, carefully applying a stripe of golden enamel to a beautifully-curved piece of silver-gray plating. He was unselfconsciously muttering along with the Earth-song, his growly voice fading in and out, and stumbling over the occasional word. The old mech made a barely-perceptible acknowledgment of his presence, but remained bent over his work.

Haven't had a dream in a long time
See, the life I've had
Can make a good man bad...

"The great Megatron knows -- and enjoys -- the music of the Earth-germs?" Optimus asked in surprise. He couldn't help teasing the big mech a little -- it was part and parcel with being brothers, and this opportunity was too good to pass up.

"Shut up, Prime," Megatron growled automatically, but without rancor. He was preoccupied with his work. Prime stepped closer, put a hand on the other mech's shoulder.

So for once in my life
Let me get what I want...

"You know this won't be the same femme, don't you?" Optimus asked gently.

"Of course I do!" Megatron shot back with some heat. "But I can remember her, can't I?

Lord knows, it would be the first time...

"I killed my own counterpart, Optimus. At least let me pay tribute to her... Make what recompense I can..."

Lord knows, it would be the first time...

"Now either leave me alone, or help me work."

Prime picked up the next plate in the neat stack. "Pass me a brush," he said quietly. The two mechs worked in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, as the gentle mandolin wound its softly melancholy way through to the last hanging note...

Good times, for a change...

Optimus dropped his brush. "You put it on repeat?!?"