"You've been hurt..."

Arcee started at the unexpected comment, lifting a servo to her face. Her cheekplates stung when her fingers brushed them, the bruises still tender and sore. "I-it... it's nothing," she replied, refusing to look at Tracks. The mech rose to his pedes as the maidservant clipped the last of his shawl in place, turning about to face her. The femme did not attempt to move when he slipped fingers under her chin, making her show him her face.

"How?," Tracks asked simply.

The maidservant blushed at the other's concern, finally looking up at him. "The o-others... Master Soundwave, h-he was most furious to d-discover their schemes and the insult that they b-brought to you. W-while he was t-tricked into coming to your r-room, I was b-beaten and locked into a closet away from th-their plans. M-master Soundwave found me and l-let me out."

It was true what she said. Arcee had never thought that the people she had practically grown up with would take part in such crazy plans, let alone bind and gag her in a closest so as to keep the pink slave from interfering. She had been so worried and afraid locked up in the darkness; her inner turmoil assuaged only when the councilor had come to her rescue. Everything after that, Arcee had learned the next morning, when she noticed that many of her associates were being punished in some form or another.

At the other's explanation, a sort of mute expression of contemplation took over Tracks' features. He withdrew from the femme, walking to his nightstand and collecting the book that was sitting there. The mech picked it up, holding it neatly. "I'll be in the gardens," he mumbled over a shoulder tire to the femme.

Not waiting for Arcee's confirmation, Tracks turned and headed out the door. The maidservant could only stare on in shock and surprise, not expecting her charge to want to leave his room so soon. Catching herself, the pink slave quickly gave chase; determined this time to make sure that she was aware of the other 'bot's situation at all times.

xxXxXxx

He couldn't focus.

Soundwave sat hunched over his desk, various scrolls and reports opened before him; a bottle of ink and his feather pen waiting to be used. He knew had work to do, but he also knew that it didn't have to be completed for some time still. So it begged the question of 'why?' Why then, when these things did not require his immediate attention, should he waste time on them, locking himself in a stuffy room where his focus kept slipping anyways?

Because of one very reason: Tracks.

If he left this room, the councilor would be hard-pressed not to seek the slave out. Already, just the simple thought of the Autobot stirred his lust, bringing a rushing heat to his loins. Soundwave groaned softly, fighting with every fibre of his being not to lose himself in his thoughts. Ever since the night before, when he'd come home to find Tracks drugged and in need, the Decepticon found it harder and harder to beat back his feelings. They were growing stronger all on their own to begin with, but this incident only acted as extra incentive, making it near impossible for the blue mech to shove them aside any longer.

And the things he had glimpsed...

Tracks' thoughts, for a couple kliks, had been wide open to him; flooding his processor with so many things. He almost fully understood the Autobot there, and was sorely disappointed that he had to help the winged mech shut everything back up inside of him. Of course, if he hadn't though, he would have to endure the suffering and the rage he felt, hearing Tracks' memory of his rape. If the councilor ever came across those mechs himself, he knew he'd kill them.

Soundwave leaned back in his chair as he began to drift in his own thoughts, wrenching from them suddenly when he realized that he was once more remembering the warm feel of plating flush against his front; moans echoing in his audio as he wrapped his fingers around a hot, drenched spike. No, these were things he shouldn't recall! These were wrong! Quickly, the councilor tucked them away, burying them deep within himself.

The action though left his spark puttering in agony.

What a twisted matter of circumstances this was, the Decepticon sighed, lifting a servo to his weary visor. In any other setting, these thoughts might not be so unwelcome; his desires not so taboo. But the reality of the situation was that Tracks was his slave -thrice bruised and humiliated- and he was lord and master over the poor mech. Any emotions formed within this relationship were automatically sick and cruel.

Soundwave sighed again. He really needed to get his processor away from the subject of Tracks. Yet, that only brought up the other question: who was the femme he had read from the slave's thoughts?

xxXxXxx

The sun beat down from high above, hot and unrelenting, covering the world in its heavenly light yet also strangling it in a cloak of heat. Slowly, Tracks flipped through the book resting in his lap, his attention spliced between the words before him and the cool splash of the fountain behind him. No matter how hard he tried though, he found his focus waning. He'd spent the last several orns out in the gardens, sitting at the same fountain, reading the book the Decepticon had left him.

He was nearly finished...

A sound rustled softly from behind the winged slave. Lifting his helm, the Autobot glanced backwards, half-expecting to see Soundwave standing behind the rose bushes again, watching him. Instead, a filthy slave -covered in a layer of grime and dirt- looked up in surprise from his work; fumbling with his hoe as he caught the other's stare, before he quickly shuffled out of sight again. Shuttering his optics, Tracks turned back to his book, but his thoughts were far away from the histories or troubles the literature told. Alone, the multicoloured slave lost himself within questions yet unanswered.

Why had his "master" not come to visit him again since that night?

As obviously desired as he was, it made little sense that the councilor would not act upon the opportunity that he had been presented with when the Autobot had been charged and bared under him. Yet the Decepticon had done nothing more than relieve the slave of his overwhelming charge before leaving; himself, unsatisfied in the same sense.

Was he being avoided now?

Though Tracks had made it a point to stay away from his room, with the exceptions of meals, getting dressed and recharging, he had not yet once seen the councilor. Perhaps the blue mech was truly busy; maybe he was tending to other duties that he had, or out buying other slaves. Still, it was noticeable enough to the slave that when he had not wanted to see the Decepticon, he was plagued often with "well-intended" visits from his captor, and now...

Now it was if Soundwave was a ghost or an illusion of his distraught processor. It was a tempting thought, but it bred more ill than actual good thinking about it. Escaping that tangent, Tracks' processor latched onto the next worry resounding in his helm.

How had the Decepticon known about her?

Even now, the winged mech could feel his spark break from its frozen shell, withering fearfully as he recalled the exact events of that night. Though Tracks would love nothing more than to forget everything about that incident, the memories still remained and they were causing him so much torment, especially concerning the secrets that Soundwave had so blatantly spoke of during. They were facts -about his life, before his captivity, before everything had been stolen from him- that no one, this Decepticon especially, should know about. So how did he know enough to mention her?

He couldn't possibly care. He was nothing but a slave owner... surely, he must have been using whatever history he had dug up about the Autobot only to taunt Tracks further. His concern, his generosity, his absence...

All just shows, tricks, to get the slave to drop his guard. It had to be... otherwise, why else would Soundwave go through so much effort?

More importantly...

Why did such a thought bother Tracks?

Closing his book with a quick snap, the multi-coloured mech rose to his pedes, hurrying back inside and away from the heat and his unwanted musings.

xxXxXxx

The day started out beautifully. Though she was concerned about the relationship now between her master and her charge, she was still happy that Tracks at least seemed to be settling into his new life well. She'd enjoyed spending the days out in the gardens with him, even if she was mostly ignored in favour of the mech's book. Grabbing her charge's breakfast -with a stiff, polite nod to the other kitchen staff- Arcee skipped down to Tracks' room, humming a cheerful tune as she went. Knocking politely on the door as she came to her destination, the femme balanced her tray on one hip, entering the room.

"Oh... good morning," she said, bowing her helm shyly. Tracks turned away from the vanity, clipping the last of his pins in place, shuttering his optics at the femme slowly. A small inclination of his helm was his only response to her greeting.

Stunned by even the smallest recognition, Arcee stood in the doorway for nearly a klik, before she remembered exactly what she was supposed to be doing. Fumbling in embarrassment, she quickly shuffled into the room, shutting the door behind her as the pink slave headed for where her charge sat. "I b-brought you your breakfast," Arcee informed, setting down the tray on the vanity. "Fresh fruits, sliced in quarters, with devil eggs and fresh bread with honey and molasses for spread."

The winged mech glanced at the dishes momentarily, before staring intently at his reflection; choosing one of the devil eggs and bringing it towards his mouth. Uncertain of what to say, Arcee shifted awkwardly at the other Autobot's side, occupying herself with the beautiful view beyond the window. Master Soundwave really had chosen the room with the best view of the gardens for her charge.

"...I finished."

The femme jolted at the half-muttered statement, her helm snapping to the other Autobot in surprise. "P-pardon?"

Tracks inclined his helm slightly in her direction, his hooded optics flat and almost cold. The one servo slipped away from the breakfast tray, grabbing the novel he had been reading studiously the past several orns and lifting it in demonstration. "I am done with this one. Where may I find more?," he asked.

Arcee shuttered her optics, still in a state of semi-shock, before she quickly smiled and fumbled with her reply. "O-oh, yes! There is, indeed," she explained excitedly, "Master Soundwave has a very large and extensive library on the property! Bounded leather, scrolls, wood panels -the master has many books, in various materials. He collects them on his journeys and brings them back home."

"Show me," the winged slave demanded, rising to his pedes suddenly. He faced the femme, ignoring the rest of his breakfast. "Show me this library."

"R-right away!," Arcee chirped, almost skipping to the door in her excitement. She remembered in whose presence she was shortly after, and quickly subdued that part of her, turning her helm to her charge demurely. "I can lead you there. Please, just follow me."

Tracks glowered at her, but said nothing, following in the other slave's pedesteps silently. He did his best to keep his gaze forward, ignoring any and all other staff that they passed, same as Arcee did. Counting the corridors and turns they took, the mech was quick to notice that they were in a familiar hallway. He slowed to a pause, unnoticed by his guide, staring at the small alcove in the wall. With the sunlight streaming through the windows, the door to the Decepticon's office was more visible. Tracks spared a quick glance to Arcee -still walking forwards, babbling softly about something or another- before he tip-toed for the hidden door.

He stood quietly before the wood, wings hitched high and intakes muted. He could hear the faint rumble of voices from within.

Curious, the Autobot leaned forward, pressing his audio to the door.

xxXxXxx

"...of utmost importance."

Soundwave waited until the messenger had spoken his piece, before extending a servo and silently requesting the scroll the other mech carried. At once, the servant handed it over, stepping back and patiently awaiting either response or inquiry. The councilor took this moment to break the scroll's seal, giving the orders within a quick read-thru. Though the other could not see it, the blue mech frowned behind his battle mask; his visor dimming in concern.

"Inquiry: The Emperor wishes for my immediate departure?"

The messenger nodded his helm, bowing quickly to show his respect before speaking. "His Lord has dictated all requirements within, but has made profound note that this task is to be completed within the month," the servant answered. "He expects that you leave by the orn, at the very latest, but understands if you might need a few more hours to set affairs in order for your estate."

The councilor did his best not to sigh, even as he dropped his gaze back to the scroll in his servos. Megatron was making high demands once again, but he was Emperor, and as loyal servant to him, Soundwave had no choice but to comply to his ruler's wish. Still, he felt uneasy for the first time in a long while, and he realized it had little to do with his estate. In fact, it had never bothered him previously when he was sent on far-away missions for his Lord, to leave home and servants with no master for weeks on end.

Of course, that was before he had brought Tracks home.

Idly, Soundwave wondered how the winged mech might take this news.

"If his gracious councilor is willing to the terms outlined, the Emperor would like it if you'd passed on a response, so that he may know of your obedience to his commands," the messenger was saying. "As declared, the matter is of most impor-"

The Decepticon lifted a servo, silencing the servant, who quickly snapped his jaw shut and looked at the other mech, awaiting further instruction. Turning his helm, Soundwave stared at his office door, allowing a few astroseconds to pass. "...Status: welcome to come in, Tracks," he said, as the silence continued to drag on.

The messenger cringed as the door was slowly pushed open, the Autobot appearing on the other side. Blue optics narrowed distrustfully, Tracks stepped into the room, sparing a quick glance at the stunned servant, before turning his glower back to Soundwave. Without taking his gaze off of the slave, the councilor said to the messenger, "Status: agree to his Lord's mission. Shall leave within the orn. Action: you are dismissed."

At the order, the servant bowed, stepping past the multi-coloured mech and exiting the office hurriedly. Once he was gone, Soundwave kindly gestured to the spare couch in his office, asking, "Inquiry: would you care to sit?"

As usual, Tracks did not take to the invitation. "...you knew I was there?," he began coldly, wings giving tense little flicks every few astroseconds. "How? How do you know things that you shouldn't? Answer me, slaggit!"

The language was somewhat unexpected. Soundwave faltered, before rising to his pedes and approaching the Autobot. His spark gave a sickening lurch as he saw Tracks shuffle away from him quickly, shoulders hunched up to his audios and lip components pulled into a nervous snarl. Looking away from the slave for a moment, the councilor closed the office door, before crossing his arms behind his back and turning his gaze once more back to the other mech. "Fact: you have many questions..."

"Of course, I do," Tracks sneered, taking a few, cautious steps backwards again. "But surely, you must already know that. Just as you know about her." The last word was punctuated with a growl, and the sound made Soundwave tense slightly. Without pressing, he could feel that vague swell of emotions rise; fear and anger at the forefront of the chaotic mess.

"How did you find out...?," the slave demanded softly. "Did you know all along? Were you merely playing games with me, until you felt I was mad enough so you could spring that little bit of truth on me -simply to garner some sort of response? Is that it? Is that how you get your kicks? By first subduing, manipulating and then raping your slaves?"

"Negative," the blue Decepticon tried to answer, his servos coming up in an attempt to placate the other mech. The action though did quite the opposite, and Tracks blew into a hysterical rage. "Status: was only-"

"LIAR! Liar, liar, liar, liar!," Tracks screamed, backing up and curling against the wall defensively. "You knew! You knew all along, and, a-and... and you sat there, playing with me! Hoping that I would give in this entire time! But when it became obvious that I would never subject myself to your whims, you decided to taunt me further by bringing her up! I bet you staged that rape too, didn't you! All part of your master plan to bend me the frag over!"

Slowly, the multi-coloured mech slid to the floor, servos grasping his helm and wings trembling. "Damn you! D-damn you to the scrapheap!," he whimpered, vocalizer cutting and intakes heaving gently. "Slaggit... I-i... I had finally forgotten... f-forgotten that s-she..."

It tore him apart to watch this beautiful mech fall to the floor, tears streaming down his face and trembling servos covering his helm, similar to a small sparkling trying to shield himself from scary monsters. Without stepping forward, Soundwave bent to one knee, his gaze soft as he stared at the traumatized Autobot before him. "Fact: never... never knew her name. Only that she was important to you," the councilor said, trying to soothe Tracks. "Was told of her from the merchant."

It was a lie, he knew, and though it made his fuel tanks twist painfully, Soundwave realized that at this moment, Tracks didn't want to hear anything other than lies. The slave could handle nothing less. At the words, the Autobot lifted his helm slightly, a glare forming even through the thick of his tears. The reaction almost made Soundwave glad to see it, though animosity was the very last thing he wished to incur from the other. "Status: must leave, but will ensure that you have the best provided in my absence. Estimation: should return within a couple months. Fact: will-"

"You're leaving then?" The cold question cut the Decepticon off before he could finish. "You'll be gone for a long time? Is it somewhere far you are going?"

Soundwave vented softly, recognizing the inquiries for what they really were: confirmations about whether or not he would be around the estate. "Assumption: correct," he answered resignedly, resting one arm on his bent knee. "Status: will be leaving shortly."

The blue optics flared irritably behind glass frames. "Then why don't you hurry up and go," came the snarl.

The councilor did not respond to that; instead, rising to his pedes and holding out a servo for Tracks to take. The slave ignored it, standing up stiffly by himself, his glare having yet to leave his face. Eventually, he just let his servo drop back down to his side. From beyond the walls of his office, Soundwave could hear his faithful slave's frantic thoughts, and felt just a tad bit of sympathy for her. "Arcee: looking for you," the blue mech informed the now-composed slave. "Suggestion: return to her; put her worries to rest. Option: if willing, can discuss any questions you might still have on my return."

Tracks snorted, obviously not taken with the Decepticon's kind offer.

Frowning sadly, Soundwave turned to the door, opening it and standing aside; allowing the Autobot the choice to go through first or not. The multi-coloured mech hesitated for a moment, before he drew his shawl closer to himself and marched for the door, taking care to eye the councilor warily as he passed. Silently, Soundwave followed, closing his office door behind him and locking it. When he turned around next, it was to find Tracks quickly twisting his helm away, clearly not wanting to have been caught staring. Though he knew it would not be right, nor appreciated, the larger mech could not resist.

He stepped closer to the slave, raising his servo. Pausing only momentarily when Tracks flinched, Soundwave pressed forward, his golden fingers curling gently on the side of the Autobot's face, a thumb stroking once at the lovely plating. It had been a long time, he noted bitterly, since he had last touched Tracks this way. "Fact: after returning, will discuss various chores you can do as a means to work for your freedom," he quietly said. The blue optics he was staring into so deeply flared with both shock and disbelief.

Smiling shortly, the councilor released the slave, turning and quickly making his way down the hall. He heard Arcee give a vocal exclamation of relief as she found Tracks, followed by the forlorn sensation as turbulent emotions were once more subdued and tucked out of sight of his mind-reading abilities.

For the first time ever, Soundwave cursed his Emperor.