Disclaimer: I do not own Elita One nor anyother Transformers character. Nebula belongs to Meiza and Sneakthief belongs to me. I make no money from writing this!

Insperation for this piece came from chapter 6 of the story Elita One, 28 Times written by Meiza. I use Nebula with her permision.

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Mothers and Daughters

She'd been ignoring the sounds coming from outside her office for about 15 clicks now. After her earlier encounter with Nebula, Elita-1 knew that this was going to happen. Nebula and her daughter were arguing again. Many femmes and their offspring had come threw her hands over the last several vorns, but none were quite as "opinionated" as these two.

A particularly loud screech had Elita wincing. Even with the thick walls she could make out the two different voices. Nebula's was higher pitched and would probably have been a wonderful singing voice if times had been different. Her daughter, Sneakthief's voice was lower, but just as strong. Just as she found her mind wandering towards what those two would sound like singing in one of the large concert halls of Iacon, there came a sharp tone from her door. "Right on time." Elita groused to herself.

Standing, she made her way to the door. On the other side she found her closest friend, Chromia. Before she could say anything, Elita sighed, "I'm on it." and headed towards the sounds of discord. Chromia could only chuckle at the note of tired reservation in her friend and boss's voice.

Standing before the door of what had been her sitting room, since converted into living space for several femmes and their families, Elita steeled herself before hitting the door release.

".... and stop trying to run my life!"

Ah, they were to this part of the argument. Stepping into the room, Elita surveyed the scene. Standing in the middle of the large room were mother and daughter, nearly nose to nose and glaring daggers at each other. The pair looked so different it was hard to believe they were family. Nebula was yellow and green, slight of build and lightly armored. Sneakthief was dark blue and black, a heavyer, sturdy build and had several inches on her mother, even without the normal sized heels most femmes sported. Apparently she had her feet reformatted as soon as she became an adult, making the heels only half as tall. This was just one more thing Nebula nagged... er... talked to her daughter about. The thing Elita had noticed, that showed this two very different femmes as being related were their optics. They were the same exact shade of blue, bright in the center and turning almost violet at the edges.

While the pair continued to trade verbal jabs, Elita glanced around the room. Everyone else had vacated as soon as it appeared the two were going to fight again. Smart move. If only she herself could head back to her office.

"...and why do you insist on using that horrible name?"

Offlining her optics a moment, Elita grumbled to herself, "Here it comes."

"There is nothing wrong with my name!"

"Your name is Code Blue!"

"My name is Sneakthief!"

"You only cling to that name because *HE* gave it to you!"

In her mind, Elita checked off an imaginary checklist. Nebula/Sneakthief fights always followed the same routine. First Nebula complained about something her daughter did that she didn't approve of, then she would bring up Sneakthief being a medic, then came the "Your ruining my life" stage followed by "The Name" stage that lead into....

"This has nothing to do with Swindle"

... The ex-boyfriend stage.

It was now or never. Elita couldn't allow it to move into the "I Hate You" stage.

"Enough!" she shouted, The response was instant, mother and daughter sprang apart, shocked at the audience that they hadn't noticed. "Both of you Stop This Now! I've seen sparklings that behave better then you two. If I hear one more word out of either of you this orn, I'll toss both of you out on your afts. Got it!"

Mother and daughter both nodded. "Good!" Spinning around, Elita marched out of the room. Stopping outside, she tapped in her override, keeping the door from closing completely. With only a small crack left, she leaned in to listen...

"I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean..." A strangled sob before...

"Oh sweetling, I'm sorry too."

Elita smiled to herself. Successful Intervention Result #2, otherwise known as "I'm sorry, No, I'm sorry." With any luck, she had just bought herself two or three orns of peace and quiet out of those two. Leaving the pair to reconcile on their own, Elita headed back to her office. If only all of her problems where so easy to solve.

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The End... for now.