A/N: Alright, guys. This is the final chapter of "Stereo Hearts". I won't lie, you might want to get a tissue if you're a major Jazz fan. Just a warning, yo.

P.S.: I do not own Transformers, I just own this plot line that will act as your motif to hunt me down. As always though, read, enjoy, and comment on the story. Tell me what you thought of the story, what you might think happen in the sequel, and what I might need to work on. Just don't tell me that I stink for this. Thanks, guys!

I remember tears streaming down your face
When I said, "I'll never let you go"
When all those shadows almost killed your light

The frenzy in the Med. Bay had gone down. The echoes of Ratchet's demands died down, leaving only the memory of the terror that was traced in his voice. The serious and tense atmosphere put on by First Aid and Wheeljack left a calming mood, though the mood was soon overpowered by sorrow.

After Ratchet had put his final tool down, there was little to nothing that he could do to help the bot on his table. There was too much damage to the circuitry and spark was already weak as it is, it had nothing to support. The frame was already dark and grey, not a dot of color to be seen.

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone"
But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight

The doors to the Med. Bay opened. The small group of Autobot officers sitting outside looked up. Their faces were all the same: concerned, fearful, and anxious. The silence dragged on, no one wanted to admit the truth judging on the medic's face.

There was a fearful swallow. A hitch in an intake. A fearful step forward.

"What's the news Ratchet?" Optimus asked quietly. His voice was shaken and almost inaudible with the authoritive tone subtle. He had to be strong for his troops.

Silence draped its gripping hands around the group. The suspense hung in the air. Ratchet dropped his head in the respect that shouldn't have come so early for the bot. His tone was sorrowful and guilt ridden. "I was too late. There's nothing more I can do."

"…No…"

Just close your eyes
The sun is going down
You'll be alright
No one can hurt you now

"NO,"

"Prowl,"

"…I-I too late…It can't be true…Ratchet, please…"

Ratchet took a few paces towards Prowl, though he still stood a considerable distance. "Prowl, there is nothing more I can do. Can't you see? His spark is too far gone. He's in Primus's care now."

"No...NO! YOU'RE WRONG! HE CAN'T!" The tactician struggled to get up, despite the tight gauze wrapped around his midsection, and the aching pain in the joint of his doorwing. Shaking, Prowl, rushed past the medic, determination the fuel of his movements. He got as far as the Med. Bay doors before a strong, but gentle, firm hand grasped his shoulder.

"Prowl,"

"NO, I NEVER TOLD HIM!" Prowl stopped, almost falling to his knees. The agony gripped his spark, the agony yanked at his doorwings as they lowered with his spark. His shaking hand ghosted over the door, feeling the cold, grey exterior radiate onto his plating.

"Prowl, please," Optimus Prime tried to reason with his second-in-command.

"…I never told him…"

"Never told him what, Prowl?"

Prowl was silent, his optics staring at the door in front of him; longing to enter and see the remains of his love. He stood like this for a few kliks.

"…I…I never told him I loved him…" Prowl finally announced. Coolant dripped down his facial plates, landing unceremoniously onto the floor, where his hopes and dreams of a future with Jazz now lay.

Come morning light
You and I'll be safe and sound

It was quiet. There was no outside noise other than the whirring of the life supports and the dripping of the energon feed connected to Jazz's energon lines. The lights were off in the Med. Bay. Only the security lights in the front of the bay illuminated the entrance. The rest of the bay was dark.

In the middle of the room, lay Jazz's corpse. The dark grey metal of his frame was hidden in the shadows of the darkness. A thick, white sheet was draped over the bottom half of his body, covering up the grey metal that was uncovered from chipped paint. Ratchet had yet to restore the gleaming, pearl white of his chest plates and the regal blue and red stripes for his ceremony. His shoulder was repaired with grey sheet metal, found in Wheeljack's lab, covered the gaping hole. His servos were laid stiffly and lifeless by his side; digits curled in a natural position atop the white sheet. Also, a new crystalline visor took place of the shattered one adorning his optics. Prowl had insisted on taking the damaged one as a reminder for the love that he lost.

Beep…

Silence took its toll once again in the shadowed clinic.

Beep…

The spark monitor came to life, a beep sounding out the faint beat at regular three minute intervals. A small splash of color lit up Jazz's frame: the black accents grew to be dark, the normal charcoal black that glittered under the sun.

Then, as no one watched through the Med. Bay windows, as no one passed through the hallway in the late hours of the night. Not a soul saw the single digit twitch on the bed that housed Jazz's now faint, beating spark.

To be continued…

A/N: So...what'd you think? I don't own the song, it's "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars. Please comment on what you thought of the story overall, what you want to see in the sequel, and what I can improve on. Until the next story...thanks!