A/N: Post DOTM, though that is as specific as we can probably be, as of yet both Bumbee and I are still unsure as to where this one-shot fits in with our other pieces, like "Aftermath." A slightly longer than usual a/n is needed for this one, as Bumbee and I need to clarify a few issues. This was written shortly after both Bumbee and I first watched DOTM in theaters and were puzzling over what precisely to make of Director Mearing, specifically what her character meant in terms of our OC Elena. In short we came to the conclusion: we don't like Mearing (sorry Mearing fans!) Sure, we love to hate her, but not much more than that. Coupled with the fact that our OC Elena is nearer and dearer in our hearts, we both came to the rapid conclusion that Elena needed to start kicking ass and taking names, particularly Mearing's. That having been said, we also need to confess that neither Bumbee or myself have any practical or intimate knowledge of political hierarchies or their corresponding job titles, at least not at the level that Mearing so clearly functions at. So that left us with the need to come up with a title that would at least sound impressive, or failing that, sound as though it could be plausibly higher ranking than Mearings. However if you, dear reader, have such intimate knowledge please share it with us! That way we can at last bestow upon Elena her rightful job title (but I've said to much in the way of spoilers!) One last note, galvanized by our dislike of Mearing, we couldn't resist over-exaggerating-at least briefly-her disdain for the Autobots. Thus, please do not be surprised, or offended at what appears to be slight uncharacteristical emphasis of Mearing's idiosyncrasies, or at the very least, her mean streak. But, its all in good fun. Thank you for your patience and for sticking with us through such an annoyingly long a/n!

Hope you enjoy! Please R & R!

~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee

###

William Lennox couldn't help but chew on the inside of his cheek apprehensively as he surveyed the scene before him. Lingering on the white washed catwalks that lined the hanger, he crossed his arms over his chest and took another step closer to the edge, his breath catching in his throat as he looked over the railing into the yawning space below. There, resting upon the same angled dais that the traitorous Sentinel Prime once had briefly occupied was Optimus. The leader of the Autobots had been placed into stasis, nearly forcibly, Lennox couldn't help but recall, by Ratchet. And it was no wonder Ratchet had been so insistent to do so; looking down upon Prime's form was like looking upon the ruinous remains of a titan. Armor rent and torn, paint peeling and blackened, and his shoulder simply shredded away where Sentinel had torn Optimus' arm off. The colorful flame decals had been reduced to metal ribbons that peeled away from the jagged edges of his shoulder, reveling fragile wiring and ghostly veins of energon. Even looking at Optimus now was painful for Lennox.

A gentle elbow nudge into his arm brought Lennox's attention crashing back into the moment. "Hey man." Epps drawled quietly, as his own gaze flitted beyond the railing and to the ruined form that lay below them. "Ratchet finally had to put him under huh? Guess Big Man got on Ratchet's last nerve trying to do everything himself…" Epps' attempted jest fell colorless and flat upon Lennox's ears. There was nothing that could make Nathan laugh today. His jaw clenched too tightly together, Lennox could only manage a subtle tilt of his head in acknowledgement of his friend's presence but didn't dare try for any form of verbal reply. Having known Epps long enough—having been to hell and back together—Lennox knew that Epps wouldn't take it personally.

Right now, Lennox couldn't find anything pleasant or good about the day. His head and heart ached with the unspoken loss of so many friends, the death toll too steep, the price for their survival had been so high this time. Yet, there was one loss that stood out in particular, silhouetted in agonizing grief: Ironhide. The gruff weapons specialist was gone, completely, irrevocably gone. Sorrow whispered Ironhide's name in the confines of Lennox's heart, but ruthlessly he punched it down. He would grieve when he got home, but not here, not now, he couldn't. But even as he endeavored to push a knot work of sorrow and pain away, the thought of home brought yet another crushing realization upon him: how was he going to tell Annabelle? How the hell was he going to tell his daughter, who had looked up to Ironhide, had loved him, adored him really, since the day she could waddle across the hanger?

Before his thoughts could continue in their downward spiral, once again Lennox was spared by a grumble from Epps. "Aw, shit. Here comes trouble." A brief glance out of the corner of his eye and Lennox caught sight of Mearing's approaching form. He returned to chewing on the inside of his cheek, leveling his gaze once again upon Optimus' broken—and betrayed his mind sadistically whispered to him—form. Today the ache of Ironhide's loss was raw and tender for Lennox, and looking down at the state Prime was in now only served to remind him that the last time he had seen Optimus lying down was after Megatron had ripped out his spark, after he too had been lost to them. No, today was not a good day for Lennox.

There was the anticipated click of heels against the cool metal floor, a brief impatient sigh as Mearing tossed a careless glance at the Autobot leader's unmoving form and then, "What? Another one died?"

Really, Epps was starting to wonder if it was possible for his friend to fracture something clenching his jaw like that.

The National Intelligence Director suppressed another sigh as she began to riffle through a stack of forms, "Well I suppose he got what was coming to him. Master Sergeant Epps, I assume you can take care of the arrangements to ship what's left"—here she waved a dismissive hand in Optimus' direction—"with the other one."

Now it was Epps' turn to grind his teeth, "The. Other. One?" he dared to ask.

She paused long enough to flick her gaze past Lennox to Epps, "The black truck."

"Ironhide!" The whip crack of another voice echoed over to them, the pure undiluted venom in that tone was potent enough to singe the air itself. Not one to back down from a challenge, Mearing turned on her heel to squarely face the new comer.

Epps' grin was so wide it hurt his facial muscles, "Oh its on now!"

Mearing tossed another searing glare back at Epps before snapping, "Who do you think you—"

"—His name was Ironhide." Came the seething reply, "And I'm here to make your life miserable." Steel grey eyes flashed dangerously behind tidy glasses, her movements fluid and graceful, the new comer retrieved a single crisp sheet of paper from a metal clipboard that had been tucked neatly against her side. Her fiery red hair bobbed against her shoulder as she dropped the page on the stack Mearing was already carrying. Between one word and the next she fished a pen out of her pocket and offered it to Mearing, "Sign this sweetheart and then pack your bags."

Unfazed, Mearing didn't even glance at the offered pen or even at the newest paper that had been so unceremoniously dumped on her stack, "I'll give it to you, you've got brass threatening me without even introducing yourself. But then again courage is a form of stupidity. You have no idea who you're talking to, I've got access to enough classified Intel it would make your pretty little head hurt just thinking about it. Now, get out of my hanger."

"Are you done now? Good. Now I can tell you that I am the Presidential Director of Intelligence and Communications and that"—a jab of the still offered pen in the direction of Mearing's paperwork, and more importantly at the newest sheet of paper that had been placed atop the pile—" is the President's formal request that you resign your position and return to the capitol for reassignment."

Mearing could only blink wordlessly back at her.

Deftly, the Presidential Director took one step to the side, "Sign it now or later, either way the door is over there."

"Who do you—"

"The name is Elena O'Conner-Epps. Now, kindly remove yourself from my hanger. You've been poaching on my territory, sweetheart, and now it's time to pay the fine for trespassing."

If Epps hadn't already been more afraid of Elena, he would have taken a precautionary step away from Mearing and the frigid expression her features had settled into as she gazed back unflinchingly at the Presidential Director. Her movements sharp and brisk, all that Mearing could do was snatch the pen from Elena's grasp, scrawl a signature at the bottom of said form and then thrust both back at her.

"Happy?" she snarled.

The smile Elena gave Mearing could only be described as predatory, "Ecstatic."

And just like that, the dragon had been vanquished. Epps had at least intended to wait until Mearing had passed through the glass double doors at the far end of the walk way to give his wife—and newest hero—a congratulatory kiss, but Lennox beat him too it. Before Epps had even taken a step forward, Lennox had scooped Elena up in his arms in a bone-crushing hug before planting a solid kiss on her cheek. Setting her down on her feet at last, Lennox took her by her shoulders, "What took you so long?"

Elena could only grin, "Traffic." At that Lennox couldn't help but manage a watery smile as Epps whooped and finally got the chance to give his wife his intended congratulatory kiss.

"Truly, there is no cause for celebration when it is at the expense of our allies. Director Mearing, though difficult at times, was still an ally." The familiar velvety timber echoed from beneath them, causing all of their spirits to lift if but a little.

"You're awake? I thought Ratchet put you into stasis!"

"C'mon Big Man, that's bullshit and you know it! Mearing was nothing but—"

"—Mearing was only going to help so much as it benefited her and her agenda." Elena quickly amended for her sharp-tongued husband.

Piercing blue optics looked up at them as Optimus slowly attempted to sit up. Before he could reply, Elena stepped up to the rail, literally looming over him as she hoisted her clipboard. "Don't. You. Dare. Prime! If you move from there I'll hit you so hard I'll knock you into the next millennia!"

There was the sound of metal rasping against metal as Optimus moved to step down from his perch, slipping slightly he managed to catch himself with his one remaining arm.

"Optimus!" Elena shouted, her voice carrying throughout the narrow hanger, "I'm warning you!" The clipboard was lifted over her head in preparation, "I'll do it!"

"Forgive me, Elena but there are matters that I must attend to and—"

CLANG!

Her aim, perfected by the practice of many years, hit Optimus squarely on the side of his head. Methodically, the panels that protected his face in battle slid into place as he looked up at Elena, narrowing his optic lenses as he did so.

"Glare all you want, I'll go get another clipboard and chuck that one at you too if you don't sit back down!"

There was a heartbeat of silence that stretched between them, before Optimus flickered his optics in amusement and rumbled: "It is good to have you back, Director."