CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

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Content warning: SA and sexual violence explicitly mentioned in character dialogue.

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Another long one, though I think I'm setting myself up for failure here, because eventually these chapter are going to get short again hahaha. I'm starting to get into a more difficult part of this story, because if it keeps going the way it's currently going things are going to ramp up blindingly fast, and I'm not sure if I want that or not. I guess we'll see. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated; enjoy!

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Starting awake in a soft, fluffy bed was not something Jack was expecting.

The disoriented young man sat up, immediately regretting it. His legs sent shooting pains up his thighs, feeling tight with angry swelling. Falling back with a gasp tears pricked his eyes, groaning as he fought to recall what had happened - which became exponentially easier with a single name.

Megatron . . .

Jack's stomach roiled at the mere thought of getting his knee reduced without even a pinch of pain medication. His mom had overseen quite a few reductions, so he understood the gist of it - usually moving the joint in the same way it had been dislocated while the person was consciously sedated or at least with some pain medicine in their systems. Jack was not surprised he passed out during the unorthodox procedure.

Now, he had no idea where he was.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus and not become overwhelmed with the anxiety threatening to boil over in his chest.

First, he needed to take inventory of himself, which happened to be a simple first step. Though his legs hurt, they were propped up by pillows, providing more relief than having no elevation at all. Everything else seemed to be in working condition, his arms aching slightly from his climbing adventures yet otherwise uninjured.

Turning his head, he realized there was a glass of Energon sitting there for him on a nightstand, next to it a white pill and standard first-aid kit.

Brow furrowing, he once again attempted to sit up, hissing softly with new sharpness in his joints. His eyes scanned his surroundings, noting the white, unpainted drywall. The room had some fairly luxurious furniture, such as a pristine dresser and chest of drawers, and even a solid wooden desk, which possessed the most comfortable wheeling chair he had ever seen. He frowned, because these things were far more expensive than anything he or anyone else he knew had ever owned. But what threw him off - and what was the most puzzling of all - was the glass of energon. Who gave that to him? Where was he?

Logic told him the Nemesis, however there was no way. This was a human home. At least, he thought it was . . .

Staring at the pill next, he considered his options. There was no way of knowing how human medication reacted with energon, yet he was reluctant to take it dry. His mother always made a big deal about swallowing pills with a glass of water, however he supposed he had never asked her why.

Deciding to think on it, he grabbed the medical kit as he hoisted himself into a painful upright position. Cracking it open, he grabbed the gauze and medical tape, gritting his teeth while rolling up his pant leg. His right knee was swollen, a bright red tinted with purple which probably looked worse than it actually was. Carefully he wrapped it, wanting it tight enough to immobilize the joint, but not cut off blood flow. That was the most important thing he could think of in this moment - immobilize his injuries, giving them a support structure and time to heal.

As he wrapped he thought, going back and forth on where he could be, and what he wanted to do about that medicine. The worst it could do was kill him-

As opposed to what? Letting Megatron do it?

He cringed. The Decepticon had gone through the trouble of fixing his leg - something which was both unexpected and a shock in multiple ways - so he doubted he was going to kill him. Still, it was difficult to tell what the dictator's master plan would be.

It also made him think. Megatron clearly wanted him alive, perhaps even unharmed. Whoever had brought him here, and there could only be one guess, had taken the time to get what he needed and ensure he was comfortable. So why would they leave out something that could potentially harm him unless they were confident it was okay?

Sighing, he picked up the small pill and turned it over, looking at it skeptically. He expected to at least see a brand name, like Tylenol, stamped on the side. Instead he was greeted with a line down the middle, a letter on one side and numbers on the other. He frowned, unable to recall if he had ever seen a pill like this before.

Taking a deep breath and deciding what was the harm? he downed the medication, then the glass of energon.

He almost immediately spit the liquid out, having completely forgotten how utterly disgusting it had been the first time around, coughing and slapping a hand over his mouth to prevent him from spitting out the bright blue substance all over himself. Closing his eyes he forced himself to swallow, sputtering.

"Ugh," he grimaced at the cup, unsure if he could even stomach the rest. Deciding one big sip was enough, he set the glass aside and wiped his mouth, trying to decide what to do next.

Well, I've got a wheeling chair. Maybe I can tour around this strange place.

Taking a deep breath he slowly slid off of the bed, letting his torso fall to the ground first, his legs gently following after. It was not exactly the most elegant of maneuvers, yet he did not really care as he crawled across the ground, which was very soft carpeting. Reaching the chair he gingerly used his right leg - the bad knee - to support himself. Grimacing, Jack made a noise of pain as he settled into it, doing his best to not put more strain on his legs. He also did not want to fall and bust his head on the carpet.

Turning his head he was able to survey the rest of the room, finding it rather large. The bed was easily twice the size of anything he had ever seen, perhaps even three times. He was certain it was larger than a king, however he had no idea what to call that size. It was full of pillows and soft covers, the frame rather plain compared to what it contained and its surroundings. It rested in the center of this large room, which also had multiple doors branching off from it - likely a master bath, a closet, and the hallway to the rest of this home.

Using his arms the boy pushed from the desk to the wall, grunting with effort as he did so. As he moved something tugged at the back of his mind, telling him something was wrong, however for the moment he was focused on just figuring out where he was.

The hallway had wooden flooring, which he began to strongly suspect was genuine and not the fake laminate stuff; this made it easier for Jack to look around. Immediately he could see a set of stairs, more than one level to this house which he could not quite access without dragging himself up them. Having yet to even make a significant dent in the first floor, he decided to just roll around.

He still had several questions. Why did he go from the Nemesis to this? Why drop him off in a strange house, unless . . .?

Suddenly it dawned on Jack perhaps Megatron had "fixed" him, then dumped him someplace where he would not be disturbed, at least temporarily - a house under construction. However, it still left the question of the first aid kit, pill, and glass of energon. If someone did end up walking in, they would have quite a few questions regarding the odd substance.

Patting his pockets, Jack fished out his phone and flipped it open. Much to his dismay, it showed not even a sliver of a signal, however that narrowed down his options. And it made him shiver at the possibility.

Did the Decepticons uproot a house and put it on their ship?!

He would not put it past Megatron, however the implications alarmed him. It meant he was planning on Jack having a prolonged stay.

Swallowing, Jack worked his way towards one end of the house, ending up in a rather nice kitchen. The tiling looked professionally done, the countertops a grey marble flecked with gold. He swept his eyes across it, seeing a sink, but . . . That was it. No stove, no oven. There was a fridge, cabinets, pantry, all storage units. When Jack opened up the former, his fears were confirmed.

Energon filled it to the brim, small little cubes that at first threw him through a loop, as he had never seen them so small before. He wondered how many questions were asked when such little things were commissioned.

Megatron was planning to keep him long term. Perhaps forever.

Jack closed the door, sitting back in his chair as he tried to calm the panic which rose in his chest, making his heart pound against his ribcage. He trembled, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to control the whirlwind slowly building in his nerves.

Breathe. 4-7-8. Breathe.

His shoulders shuddered as he controlled himself, gritting his teeth in frustration and anguish. He refused to let himself be a bird in a cage, determined to make sure Megatron knew he would not stay here any longer than necessary. No matter what he wanted, Jack was not in the mood to give him much by way of time of day after the little disappearing act the mech performed.

Pushing himself out of the kitchen he made his way into another room, this one clearly supposed to mimic an entertainment center, yet there was no television or anything else to provide the entertainment part of it. Again, something felt wrong to Jack, looking around the room as he tried to seek it out.

There's furniture, the walls are pretty bare. We have carpet, a lamp . . . The walls are just-

It hit him then. There were no windows - not here, not in any of the rooms he entered.

This is just straight drywall.

He rolled through into another room, this one similar to the last, but with more chairs and hardwood flooring with rugs. It was a strange set up, Jack searching the walls for any sign of a single window. There was none.

"They built this," he said aloud, not entirely believing it even as his own ears heard it. "This looks like a house that aliens would build. They built a house."

It was the only thing which made sense. Why each room had a strange arrangement, as if it was from a furniture magazine. He wondered what the foundation was made of, certain even the most patient of Decepticons would not truly build a full home from scratch.

Wheeling back to the kitchen he made his way to the sink, turning one of the handles. Sure enough water, actual water, poured from the faucet. It was cool, the young man cupping some and gingerly tasting it. The fresh taste was a relief to him, and he eagerly moved forward and drank straight from the stream.

Once he was satisfied he turned the water off, wiping his lips and pushing back towards his room. There had to be a bathroom in the bedroom - did it actually have running water too?

He checked the toilet, just in case, reassured once his eyes landed on the water. Out of morbid curiosity, he flushed, watching the swirl with fascination.

"The Decepticons have indoor plumbing," he shook his head, spinning slowly in the chair. The bathroom was a nice, aesthetically pleasing grey theme. It was admittedly rather plain, though it was very much interior design by way of the 'cons.

It also left the question of who had taken the time to research human homes and design, not to mention how they got these materials, especially things which looked extremely expensive. Jack knew better than to ask, but he still wondered.

His legs were hurting less now, the young man stifling a yawn. Despite having slept for who knew how long, he could feel exhaustion seeping into his bones. The bed sounded nice, though his far more devious side suggested he rest somewhere else. Make Megatron look for him, if the warlord ever decided to give him another thought.

Feeling petty and wanting to establish his stance, Jack wheeled into yet another room. To his pleasant surprise this one sported one of those strange, large couch-beds, which was the perfect place.

Scooting across the carpeted flooring he carefully slid onto the cushion, finding his legs did not hurt nearly as much. Whatever the pill was that he was given, it was working wonders.

As he settled against the cushions he sighed, amazing at how comfortable it was. Grabbing a couple more of the pillows decorating the couch he made his fort, closing his eyes and snuggling in. Already he could feel his body floating away, Jack taking a deep breath as he felt himself sink into oblivion.

XXX

Soundwave was always full of surprises, Megatron comforted by the notion he was the most loyal of Decepticons, and would never turn on his master. Usually, one did not wish to be on the receiving end of any sort of startle the mech had in store, though there were a few pleasant exceptions.

One of those had been the revelation of a little project he had been working on - a lavish habitat for a human, one modeled after the most beautiful of houses and riches of estates. Soundwave worked on it diligently, even after his master's cessation of nightly visits, as he anticipated one day Jack would come aboard this vessel to stay. And if he was to survive and thrive on something as alien as the Nemesis, he required many needs to be met.

The outside was an ugly thing, an unassuming fusion of empty Energon containers molded together and framed with a metallic outer shell for protection and privacy. Yet as Megatron stepped through the entrance, it was revealed this was more like a . . . Oh, what was the creature called? An oyster.

And within it was his pearl.

The foyer was easily over fifteen feet tall, soaring above his helm. Above was a crystal and gold chandelier with glittering lights. The white floor and walls were almost blinding, however the deep wood which accented it provided a sufficient break for his optics. Though not wholly aware of human customs and signatures of wealth, he was aware a large home was one of these things. Soundwave had done an excellent job mimicking this, delicately adding all sorts of furniture to fill up empty space and provide places for Jack to lounge.

A glorified prison, one might say. But Megatron was determined to not let Jack be miserable in such a place. Not to mention he had yet to decide if he was keeping him, depending on how their conversation went.

He sought his way to the master bedroom on the first floor, where he last left Jack. It had been several hours since their last encounter, thus he expected the young man to be awake as he stepped through the bedroom threshold. He also believed with the injuries to his legs, he would remain in place, not wanting to aggravate his wounds.

Instead, the warlord was greeted with an empty bed.

Raising an optic ridge, his gaze drifted across the room. He noted the sheets appeared disturbed, as if someone had wiggled on them before getting out. The glass of Energon and the medication he had left at Jack's bedside were changed, the former half drunk and the latter completely gone. The desk was also without its chair, Megatron looking down to see the indentation in the carpet. Tilting his helm, he listened for any sound of movement, however the habitat was dead silent. He heard nothing to indicate someone was living here.

Not alarmed yet, as Jack did not have far to go, the tyrant set out to find his guest. He moved from room to room, the open floor planning making it easy for even his wide shoulders to navigate around. Soundwave had thought of everything, Megatron flattered by his dedication.

An amusing sight brought him to a halt at the doorway to a room. Jack was nestled amongst a nest of pillows, practically drowning in them. His chest rose and fell with slow, deep breaths, past the REM stage for the time being. His legs were carefully arranged for maximum comfort, bandages keeping them immobilized to decrease his swelling. Considering he had been able to move about and fall asleep, Megatron assumed he had selected the correct medication to offer him.

The tyrant approached the young man on soft, careful steps, gazing down at him. His digits caressed a soft cheek, running across the delicate skin and brushing deep black hair. He had been in such a rush to drop the human off and scramble for the four relics that he had not taken the time to reacquaint himself with his lost half. Regretful, as had it gone his way he would have stayed to ensure Jack woke without incident.

Jack shifted at the touch, however his eyes only fluttered briefly before they rolled back into his head, returning him to the depths of unconsciousness. Megatron allowed a claw to dip past his ear, tracing his neck, playing along his collarbone.

The human's breath hitched, his throat rippling with the movement. Megatron watched him for several spark beats, then slid onto the cushion beside him. He pulled Jack against his chest, his familiar impression a soothing sensation against his armor.

Over a month. The tyrant had taken the first few Earth weeks to collect himself and keep his anger in check, protecting Jack from himself before he did something he would regret. When he bridged to the organic's home and found it empty, he admittedly panicked. Jack was missing, Soundwave unable to locate him despite his best efforts; he was certain due to the accursed Prime's intervention. This meant the warlord was forced to be patient, waiting for the inevitable mistake to be made.

And Jack did not disappoint. This was better than what Megatron had expected, as it gave him plenty of time to decide what he wished to do next. He had no intentions of hurting Jack. Their separation was punishment enough. However, he did not know Jack's stance on their current situation. For all he knew, the human did not want anything to do with him. Not ideal, however it was a thought the warlord had to anticipate.

His digits traced nonsense patterns against the young man's chest, allowing his ventilations to slow. His armor began to heat up, maintaining a comfortable temperature for his human companion. As expected, Jack pressed closer to the source of warmth, sighing softly and heavily in sleep. Megatron shuttered his optics, reveling in the closeness. Making an effort to memorize the sensation, he carefully prepared for what may come.

At the very least, if he lost Jack, there was comfort knowing he was not deceased. He could bear to part as long as he knew Jack was alive.

XXX

Jack's injuries were sore when he woke, hissing and grunting in discomfort, attempting to move. He froze as a familiar weight kept him trapped, alarm zipping down his spine when he heard him. Ventilations, slow and deep, cycling through in a rhythm which once brought him comfort in the silence of the night.

An arm kept him pinned, frozen in place as he raced through his options. Surely if Megatron wanted him miserable or dead he would have violently woken him up, tossing him around until his rage was quenched. Perhaps this was a mind game, meant to lower his guard. Jack could not consider anything in a positive light, as the Autobots had made it very clear Megatron was not the forgiving type.

He grit his teeth. What was he to do-?

"I know you are awake," the rumbling in his ear startled him, the thumb against his chest starting to rub slow circles into his skin. Taking a deep breath he shivered, unsure what paralyzed him more: the fear, or the physical weight of the mech who trapped him. Even the chills which flowed from his core and into his spine he was unsure about - was it pleasure, or utter terror?

And if it was pleasure . . . why?

There was a long moment of silence, Jack trying to figure out what he wanted to do, and anticipate what Megatron was planning. He felt like a rabbit in a bear trap, one wrong step away from sharp jaws to snap shut, cutting him clean in half.

Cool metal pressed against the back of his neck, Megatron nuzzling him. "I see the pain medication I selected worked better than expected."

Jack realized he was more pain-free after his sleep, though his legs did ache at their affected joints. He took another breath, mind racing as he felt like he was walking on eggshells. Deciding sticking to the current conversation instead of attempting to veer it straight into demanding an explanation would serve him best, he continued speaking.

"What was it?"

The helm behind him tilted. "Hydrocodone-acetaminophen, 5-325, as per recommendations."

The young man nearly choked on his next few words, not having expected the warlord to get his servos on a narcotic. Not to mention his mother had made certain to instill the fear of addiction in her son, having seen plenty of them ghost through ERs in her time. Though it was used for legitimate purposes, Jack felt infected with the drug.

"How did you get that? Those kinds of medicines are extremely well-regulated . . ." he trailed off, wondering if he had just been handed some other poor sap's prescription. Someone who actually needed them.

"Soundwave is resourceful," Megatron's false breath ghosted across his skin, "and if the right amount of money is transferred to the right types of people, nearly anything is attainable."

The brag did not sit right with Jack. "I'm almost afraid to ask where you got the money." He was certain the Decepticons did not do fundraisers or sell cookies.

"Only from those who would never notice it," Megatron's servo continued to press and stroke against his chest, a disconcerting sensation, "the exceedingly wealthy."

It would explain the lavish house, the one built by the faction of the one who held him close. How they could afford such luxuries, and he was certain with a little extra hundred dollars, whoever they had bought it from was happy to leave it wherever for pick-up. Then the Decepticons could swoop in undetected, maintaining their cover and manipulating the human world however they wanted.

"I . . . I see," being ignorant would have most likely been for the best, even though the harm was obviously as minimal as it could be. Save for potentially taking someone else's prescription. It was hard to tell how elaborate each web of lies was, how much Soundwave was willing to create a façade versus just stealing from someone.

More touching, more feeling, Jack grimacing at the mixed messages his mind was receiving. Did he hate this? Love this? Was he frustrated that everything seemed "normal," despite everything which had happened to him? Or was he relieved Megatron did not seem to be in a wrathful mood today?

"You did not drink much," Megatron noted. "Was the energon not to your liking?"

Jack shook his head as best he could, "Not really . . . no. It's sweet. Almost overwhelmingly."

"Fascinating," the tyrant hummed against him. "I suppose I never inquired as to how the taste would translate for your organic tongue. Very well. I will have the processors conduct further research to develop energon catered to your liking."

"So you plan on keeping me," Jack felt the dread which had simmered below the surface seize his bones full-force.

The servo drifted, most of the weight of the arm moving off of him as sharp digits caressed his cheek. Even with the lack of the mass against his chest, Jack still felt a density within his gut.

"Only if you wish to stay," was the unexpected, almost quiet response.

The human felt stupid as his mouth fell open, no words coming forth as he processed what he heard. If you wish to stay.

He had a choice?

He sat up this time, trying to process what he was told, how the tyrant was acting. Megatron let him without any sort of protest, physical or verbal. The mech even followed him with the motion, casually stretching his back struts as he waited for Jack to say something.

Everything sounded almost too good to be true, the young man electing to broach the subject with extreme caution.

"I thought . . . If you didn't kill me, you'd keep me here," he said numbly.

Megatron shifted, settling into a more comfortable position which allowed him to take an unobscured look at Jack's face, servos running across the cushions until they settled on either side of the human. His gaze never wavered, Jack unsure if his heart was skipping because he was scared, or if it was fluttering under his intense optics.

"I have no intentions of harming you," he tilted his helm, Jack feeling the ghost of his ventilations against his cheek, "and to keep you here against your will would only pit you against me."

"Why wouldn't you kill me?" Jack demanded, not believing the Decepticon for a second. "After I obviously pissed you off about Vector Sigma?"

"Why do you think I stayed away?" Answering a question with a question was rather annoying, yet it got his point across.

Jack took a breath, not wanting to sound too snarky, but knowing he was not going to get answers any other way.

"Because you hated me," his voice wavered, "because I betrayed you, kept the Key to Vector Sigma hidden from you this entire time, and saved Optimus Prime."

"Hate is quite the strong word," the dictator answered, "I was livid, certainly, angry. And in my anger, I forget myself; I become convinced my actions will have no consequences. I stayed away, Jack, because I refused to do something I would deeply regret - which would have been hurting you."

The next words, or question, he was not quite sure, immediately died in Jack's throat. The warlord said it so casually, as if it was a well-known fact; and it was oddly touching, a feeling the young man could not discern whether he liked or not. Once again, he felt himself going back and forth in his mind, as his fear of the tyrant was blatantly contrasted to Megatron's words and actions. All this time, he was terrified the Decepticon would hurt him; instead, he did everything in his power to ensure Jack did not suffer.

But he had suffered. In a way which was equally as painful.

His gaze having drifted to looking at the wall, with that declaration he returned to vermillion optics. It was almost unbelievable to hear the tyrant say those words, Jack wondering if Megatron was merely telling him what he wanted to hear. The dictator had stayed away not just because he was mad at Jack, but also to protect him from himself. The self-restraint was most unlike the Decepticon . . . but so was loving a human.

Loving him enough to, maybe, forgive him of his sins against the Decepticon cause.

And yet . . .

Jack swallowed. "I . . ." he took a breath, not sure how to address it. In truth, he had rehearsed this many times in his head even before talking with Optimus, on the off chance Megatron would return and demand an explanation. There was one thing Jack had decided, and it was that he would not bow. He would keep his backbone, even if it frustrated the warlord. "I can't apologize for what I did. For hiding the Key, for restoring Optimus' memories. But that's because it's part of the war. It had nothing to do with . . . with us."

"Do you truly assume that is what made me most angry?" Megatron challenged him, leaning forward so their faces were not much more than a few inches apart. Jack suppressed the urge to take a shaky breath, feeling a warm flutter in his gut. "The Key, and Optimus, were inconsequential compared to what might have happened had anything gone wrong on your little jaunt to Cybertron."

Oh.

OH.

Jack felt his eyes widen when he realized what he meant, the pieces finally coming together. He felt stupid for not considering it, because while there he had possessed the passing thought of how much it would aggravate Megatron to hear he had been on Cybertron - the death place of the catalyst behind all of this - he had not lingered on it long.

Megatron would have lost another to the toxic air of his home planet, and because of the Autobots, again.

"I was fine, I am fine," he insisted, attempting to justify it. "Arcee was with me, and I had state-of-the-art spacewalking equipment. It would have taken a lot for things to go wrong."

"According to our records, Arcee has already lost two of her . . . partners," if Megatron truly had lips, they would have been curled in displeasure, "and your 'state-of-the-art' is human, far more primitive than what the unforgiving terrain of Cybertron will tolerate. The mere fact nothing went wrong is a miracle, considering you also tripped an Insecticon scout, and somehow managed to evade it whilst remaining unscathed."

The revelation shocked Jack. "You knew about the Insecticon?"

"It is what alerted us to the unauthorized utilization of our Spacebridge," Megatron informed him, "and what brought me to your little operation. Which I am sure you were not going to tell me about had you gotten away with it without my knowledge."

Jack gave him the barest of looks. "Well, since you reacted like this after figuring it out, can you blame me?"

Optics flashed, the dictator hissing. "I refuse to allow the Autobot's carelessness take away what I hold most dear again."

"You scared me, Megatron!" Jack shifted his weight, grimacing and cringing as his legs protested, but he did it, breathing heavily. "I thought you were going to kill me, or my mom, or my friends! I went to therapy, for the love of god! My mental, physical, and emotional health took a nosedive, because I was convinced your silence meant you were going to hurt me!"

He took several deep, ragged breaths, rage bubbling into his throat. But instead of words, all which came to the forefront of his mind were feelings, most strongly of all frustration. He wanted to tell Megatron exactly how he felt, yet even he could barely discern the whirlwind of emotions which nearly swept him off his feet.

Finally, he just let out a small, pathetic few lines.

"You left me," he said, hating how his voice cracked, "and I didn't know what to do."

His outburst led to stunned silence, though Megatron's expression was neutral at best. Several beats passed between them, Jack trying to calm himself whilst apparently the tyrant searched his processor for the right words.

Metallic joints creaked as the warlord shifted, moving closer to the young man. Jack stiffened, his teeth grit as he anticipated something. Anything. Positive or negative, it was difficult to tell.

He gasped in surprise as an arm reached out and curled around him, drawing him close. In the same motion talons worked into his hair, sending shivers down his back. Throat tightening he remained as still as possible, face pressed against a broad chest as he was pet in slow, rhythmic motions.

"It appears that in my quest to spare you from physical pain, I wrecked psychological havoc," the words brushed against his ear, "which was far from my intent."

Jack closed his eyes, still not convinced this was real. He was too selfish, too evil-

"I have no intentions to ever hurt you, or your familial unit," Megatron assured him, brushing down his neck. Jack felt his body shudder, surprised breath escaping him because of how good it felt. The affectionate touch was more welcome than he cared to admit. "You may have deceived me, Jack, however I am far more inclined to be impressed with your success at doing so than angry. While what truly displeased me may have initially been the return of Optimus Prime, once I realized what you had done, going to Cybertron unprotected . . . had you perished, learning what had happened to you after the fact would have torn me apart."

His reaction to seeing Jack's corpse come through the bridge in Arcee's arms did not need to be outlined.

Blue eyes flickered up to read his expression, though it was, unsurprisingly, difficult to determine. Though familiar with the Autobots, Jack found it was hard to gauge their moods by expression alone - which was probably why EM fields existed, however he could only feel the tingle on his skin. Whatever emotions there might be, there was no way he would be able to sense them.

Megatron returned his gaze, Jack able to feel his vents against his cheek. The deep pools of red constricted his throat, making him wish he could be stronger about this. He almost wanted to forgive him from the light brushes which made him melt, however he knew he couldn't. He deserved more than just a simple explanation, an attempt to brush away the problems which were the root of his hurt.

As uncharacteristic as it would be, an "I'm sorry" wouldn't hurt.

Though perhaps that was what he expected from him too.

"So you chose to abandon me," his voice wavered.

"To protect you," the warlord insisted, his digits still stroking along his spine, scratching against his shirt, "from myself. However, I will acknowledge that was, perhaps, not the best course of action, despite my intentions."

Shivering, he felt his gaze fall from the tyrant's, jaw working as he swallowed and tried to loosen up his swollen throat. He tremored beneath his touch, the shivering subtle yet it wracked his entire body.

"How much longer were you going to wait?" He asked softly. "Or was this just a convenient time for you?"

Megatron raised an optic ridge at him, then understanding blossomed across his faceplates.

"I came for you many solar cycles ago," he replied, digits lacing through his dark hair, "and when I arrived . . . your home was bare."

Jack's spine stiffened, realizing with a start he had not told the dictator what he had done. How he confessed everything to the Autobots - to Optimus first - and as a result the US government had put them into hiding.

Great job with that.

He grimaced. Waking up in the tyrant's arms was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing.

Looking at him, Jack knew that he knew.

"I was scared," he said, grimacing as his words wavered far more than he wanted. "I was sick, worried you were going to hurt me. I did the only thing I could: tell Optimus. I didn't . . . I didn't think they would make me move, disappear."

"The only way you would ever truly be safe from me is exactly what they had done," the tyrant answered him, his words slow and even. "Not even Soundwave could track your new location - and had you not been injured, I am certain you would have escaped the ship without any one of us knowing of your presence."

The human cringed. "That was the plan," he admitted. His hands curled against his pants, his legs throbbing with every thrill of his heart. "But you're a believer in fate, aren't you?"

Megatron tilted his helm, a slow grin spreading across his faceplates.

"Far more than a mech of my status has any right to be," he purred softly. Deep crimson optics gazed at him, Jack letting loose a tight breath as a thumb stroked his cheek, the digits in his hair lightly stroking his scalp. "Then, perhaps, our reuniting was meant to be."

The words draped a chill across his skin, the sensation doubling with how the tyrant's grip tightened against him. Megatron's expression, somehow simultaneously soft and yet taut with desire, made his heart flutter in a disconcertingly familiar way. A simple tilt of the head, and they would be kissing again, rough metal scraping against his lips as servos relearned the dips and curves of his organic body. And with it, Jack realized, all the cares in the world would fade away.

And as desperately as he wanted that, he knew it was wrong - so wrong. This was not fixed, no matter how easily Megatron wanted to make it seem.

He turned his head away, grimacing as such a simple action hurt deep in his chest.

"The Autobots aren't stupid," he said, his voice soft. "If I go back - when I go back - they'll keep me at base or they won't let me near it ever again, to keep me away from you. Even if . . . if I wanted to continue this . . . they would make it impossible."

"Do you wish to continue?" Megatron questioned, tilting his helm.

"I . . ." Jack stopped himself, trying to sort his feelings as they flickered around in his chest.

Do I want this?

Could I want this?

He never had this relationship in good conscience, yet now that the Autobots were aware of its existence it would probably be easier to keep it a secret, as they would expect him to never want anything to do with the warlord ever again. As he should - after everything, the answer was clear as day, only a few syllables away from flipping off his tongue and entering the world.

Instead he was hesitating.

Twenty steps forward, thirty steps back.

Jack wanted to scream. How could he do this to him? How could just the mere presence of the warlord drive him insane? He should have come up fighting, swinging, screaming, spatting. He should have said no immediately, without a further doubt in his mind that this could never work.

Instead he was melting in his arms like a slice of butter on a hot plate.

"I don't know," he finally admitted, unable to form the proper words to convey his inner turmoil. Bowing his head tears burned against the edges of his eyes, frustrated at his own weakness. He tried to take a deep breath, only choking on his own air as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I don't know."

Claws stroked down his back.

"Then allow me time to convince you," Megatron's vent grazed his ear. "Seven of your Earth solar cycles."

Blue eyes, rimmed red with unshed distress, shot up to look at him.

"I can't stay here for a week," Jack felt his chest constrict. "The Autobots - my mom - will panic. She'll tear down the country trying to find me, and if they think I . . ."

He stopped, trying to calm the anxiety pressing against his lungs.

"Then I will go to you," Megatron offered, continuing with the repetitive, soothing pets. "Wherever you desire me to be."

Jack's breath hitched, not having expected the flexibility. Surely it would be more convenient for the tyrant to keep him here if he wanted to sway Jack to his side. He had already wasted time visiting Jack at night, efforts rewarded with the human going behind his back to restore Optimus Prime.

"The Autobots won't let me go," he murmured, already aware of what disappointment looked like etched across the Prime's face. He buried his face in his hands. "If I stay, I betray them, I hurt my mom. But if I go-"

"You will do neither of those things to me," Megatron assured him. "All I required, Jack, was to see you were still alive, to find you still functioning - with or without me."

"Then you know I can't promise to try again," Jack's voice wavered, "because there is a possibility I physically can't."

The statement merely rewarded him with a sly smile.

"You believe you can deceive me, and yet you cannot do the same to the Autobots?"

Admittedly, he had a point, though it unsettled Jack to even think about lying to his friends again. To rebuild not only this relationship, but the lies which surrounded it. If they found out, and he shattered their trust for a second time - if he hadn't already - . . . imagining the consequences made him physically ill.

"Well, if I'm being honest, lying to you doesn't make me feel as bad as lying to them," the words tumbled out, a flash of optics lancing fear through him. That had been the wrong thing to-

The chest against him rumbled, Jack believing the growl was out of anger at his audacity. However, once Megatron's derma poked through the sound became a chuckle, one of dark amusement.

"As I should have suspected," Searing coals of red stared at him, their color deepening as an EM field seemed to buzz faster against his skin. "However, that does not answer the question. You were willing to keep our trysts a secret before. What changes now? The fact you no longer have anything to hide from me, or to distract me from?"

Jack wondered when he would ever realize Megatron was far more intelligent than even he gave him credit for. He was the lord of Decepticons after all; it was almost a requirement he be ten steps ahead of anyone else around him. And in this case, he continued to bare open Jack's deepest insecurities, things he could not even put a name to on his own, stripping away his layers much faster than any psychiatrist ever could.

Nervous saliva pooled in his throat as he just pathetically answered. "Yes. And that means if I say 'yes' this time, it's real. And I don't know if I'm ready for that yet."

Megatron watched him for a long time, shifting gaze scrutinizing Jack in a way he did not like. The moment was interrupted when something unexpectedly pulled his concentration back, the flicker of his optics betraying it as a ping of some sort which Jack could only assume was one of his subordinates sending a comlink message. His helm tilted, and a frustrated ventilation exiting his intake.

"There is an issue I must address," he shifted off of the couch and stood, Jack looking up as he did so. "In the meantime, consider my offer."

"I-" Jack twisted, shifting so he sat up and over the side of the couch. "How much longer will you keep me here?"

Megatron considered this for some time. "I believe there is still much we have to discuss. Boundaries you wish to set, should you desire to continue . . . us. Once these negotiations have taken place, then I will release you."

The human chewed his lip, aware Megatron was in a hurry, yet worried about how the warlord somewhat avoided his question, not giving a straight answer.

"O-Okay . . . he paused, "how long do you plan to be gone?"

"A few of your hours, given my men are competent," the Decepticon appeared genuinely annoyed, though Jack could tell it was not aimed at him, but rather what had drawn his attention away. "I will not have you wait long."

Jack nodded slowly, eyes drifting down to the floor. "G-got it. I'll be here, I guess."

A shadow fell over him and he made a small noise of alarm, spine stiffening as metal touched his forehead affectionately. Megatron's helm brushed against his skin, the chaste kiss more than what Jack had been expecting from him. It was far briefer than anticipated as well, the warlord silently stepping back and turning, leaving Jack once again in his lonesome.

The quiet which followed appeared suffocating, Jack gritting his teeth in frustration.

I don't just want him . . . I need him.

He wished the statement was false, but as the silence persisted and Jack wished Megatron would come back, its truth pained him like never before.

Once he was positive Megatron was gone he slid back into the wheeling chair, Jack still not fully trusting all of his weight on his two throbbing legs. Pushing himself to the kitchen he filled a glass of water, electing to grab two Tylenol versus the bottle of Norco sitting within the designated medicine cabinet - one, he realized, which was in a similar spot to where it had been in his home - his previous home.

Feeling immensely uncomfortable at the prospect of getting too familiar with the house he returned to the master bedroom, deciding if he was going to do anything to pass the time, it would be sleep. Then, at the very least, he would not be alone in his thoughts.

Because no matter how much he wanted to deny it, how much they would talk, he already knew what his answer was going to be. He was almost certain Megatron did too.

XXX

"I trusted you to take care of him!" June was exploding, both inside and out, her furiously red face matching the tone of the accusatory finger pointed towards Ratchet, "and you let him on the Decepticon ship, knowing full well the risks involved. And not only is he stuck on that ship, but he's injured. Do you think Megatron is going to care what kind of state he's in? He could die!"

Ratchet let her spat her words at him, already having given himself a metaphorical beating for what had happened. For his lack of action, despite knowing full well he should have escorted Jack off of the ship the moment it became more than just the retrieval of the Iacon database. Sure, throwing himself on board of the Nemesis was nothing short of suicide, but at least his efforts would have been a commendable attempt.

As soon as they returned, Vince informed them of what happened, detailing how Jack injured his legs as he attempted to get down from the power core, Miko and Raf able to confirm Vince stayed behind to try and help him. He told the truth, the whole truth, of Megatron pursuing them and Jack telling him to leave, or die. From there . . . he did not know what happened to the younger male. Only that he was left at the mercy of Megatron, who surely was more than furious at Jack for his Vector Sigma stunt. There was the possibility he was just as angry about Jack's disappearance from the face of the Earth, if the tyrant was even aware such a thing had occurred. Though they would be foolish to think Megatron would not have Soundwave keep continuous tabs on the young man, because he went completely radio-silent in his interactions with the human made things less predictable.

"He could already be dead," tears fell down her cheeks, voice cracking at the vicious revelation. The Autobot base was silent, not even Miko daring to shift from her place at Bulkhead's side. The girl almost wanted to shout at June to leave the good doctor alone, well aware he had never meant for any of it to happen.

She only blamed one person, and that person was Megatron.

The one who started this whole mess. The one who seemed to start all of the messes they ran into.

"Nurse Darby, I can only agree with you," Ratchet began slowly, "my judgement was lax. At the time, all we knew was the Decepticon warship had placed every living Cybertronian in stasis lock, following its directive to collect Decepticon weapons which could possibly destroy Earth as we knew it. Every one of them was eager to take responsibility for saving their home, and I could not oppose them. I calculated the risk as low, but that does not excuse my utter lack of regard for Jack's safety in proximity of the Decepticons."

"Lack of regard is an understatement," June snarled, "you were lackadaisical at minimum, utterly negligent at most!"

"We all are to blame for this, Nurse Dar- Nurse Dolion," Fowler clearly disliked how the name felt against his tongue, yet he continued, shaking it off. "This is my fault as much as it is his."

"Perhaps, but at least you have been helping us try to avoid this whole situation," June said, her voice still holding its vicious edge, "everything which has now been negated due to Ratchet's 'lack of regard.'"

The medic looked as if the woman had publicly flogged him, though he stood his ground.

"Apologizing will not bring Jack back to base," he replied coldly. "My hails have gone unanswered, and the Decepticons have not relented in the least bit in their attempts to decimate Team Prime! If Jack was harmed, I am most certain Megatron would be more than eager to share. However, he seems preoccupied trying to kill my team."

The medic angrily gestured to Bulkhead, the Autobot hooked up to a multitude of life-support devices, however he was stable and doing well. Primus only knew where Wheeljack was at this time, though right now no one seemed to be paying attention, focused on the argument in front of them between a mother and their medic.

"Perhaps the way he is being harmed is something Megatron just isn't comfortable broadcasting," June implied savagely.

"June," her spine straightened as Optimus referred to her by her "real" name, the woman looking shocked he would do such a thing, "while Megatron may be violent and malicious, I fully believe he would not stoop so low as to use sexual assault as a weapon."

"Say it as it is," June replied bluntly, "you don't think he would rape anybody? You don't believe he would rape Jack to get what he wants?"

"Megatron desires a consensual relationship, as he had with Amicus, regardless of sexual interaction," Optimus rebuffed her with a stern look, the Prime's armor subtly flared out in mild warning. "He has not expressed nor demonstrated a penchant for such types of violence in the past, and I have no reason to believe he would sabotage what he has now with Jack in that manner."

June crossed her arms, opening her mouth to argue once more, but the Autobot leader continued.

"However, Megatron may use this opportunity to manipulate Jack into re-entering their agreement," he said grimly, "or merely keep him in Decepticon custody until he succumbs to what you may refer to as Stockholm Syndrome. Both of these possibilities have placed Jack high on our priority list, and now that we have recovered what relics we were able, we will focus our energy on rescuing Jack."

"And how do you intend to find the warship?" June asked, still nasty in her tone, "hoping another dark energon incident happens again?"

"Any means necessary," Arcee was the one to speak up this time. Her winglets were fully raised on her back, every muscle cable within her taut as she continued to jump from one terribly scenario to the next, only able to assume Megatron was hurting her partner for his "betrayal." "We will find the warship. And when we do, we're getting Jack out of there. No matter what."

June appeared torn, wanting to believe the Autobots but feeling overwhelmingly angry at their failure to protect her son. She was, perhaps, angriest at herself, wishing she had put her foot down more sternly on seeing the Autobots . . . ever. They were a part of this problem, she knew, as any interaction with them led to the risk of Jack getting caught back up with the warlord she was desperately trying to hide him from.

And yet, faster than anyone would have thought, Jack was back in his clutches. Possibly suffering, dying, in the worst ways possible . . .

The woman's fist curled.

"If he finds us again," she said lowly, "if Megatron forces Jack to tell us where we live . . . we're gone. From this country, from you. I don't care where we end up, if we have to go to Antarctica to get away, but we will never let any of you near him again!"

Optimus appeared incredibly sad, however he did not fight her words.

"If that is your wish, we will respect it," he said, the finality of his words settling across the shoulders of everyone in the room, despite Arcee wanting to fight vigorously against it.

She would protect Jack, no matter what.

With or without her Prime's approval.

And certainly without June's.