Megatron wasn't really sure how he ended up stumbling across you.

You, a tiny human child. A native inhabitant of a planet he planned on taking over to advance the Decepticons in their war efforts. He didn't understand why, but he almost felt... sorry for you? You were just a small, squishy creature that was doomed from the start.

He regretted not killing you at the first opportunity he got. He should have known the strange, commiserative feeling in his spark would lead to nothing good. But, despite his better judgement, he allowed himself a second of weakness, scooping you up into his hand, and bringing you back to the Decepticon base.

Starscream had been livid when Megatron had returned with a human. A fusion cannon pointed directly at his faceplate made him shut up rather quickly. The other Decepticons got the memo, not questioning Megatron's uncharacteristic decision.

Megatron really didn't know what to do with you after he dropped you off in his throne room. You had still been rather flabbergasted by the whole ordeal. It's not every day you get picked up by a giant alien robot, after all. Megatron almost considered squishing you right then and there and going about his day as if nothing had happened. Luckily, he decided against him.

As time passed, Megatron had slowly, begrudgingly settled into the new role as the caretaker of a fleshling. He was often busy dealing with matters regarding war efforts, or issues within his own ranks. For the most part, he kept you to himself. You weren't exactly a secret, but it wasn't like he went around talking about the human he had abruptly decided to grab one day. Out of fear of Megatron's wrath, most Decepticons accepted you fairly quickly. They also learned to watch where they stepped when walking around the base. You had a tendency to wander.

Today, Megatron stood at a desk, datapads strewn about it. It was one of the more tedious and stressful parts of waging a war, but someone had to do it. You sat on the table as well, watching him curiously.