A/N: At long last...on with the plot.

Chapter 13

"Well, damn," Lennox snarled, "damn. It."

"Damnit to hell and back." Elena agreed.

Expectantly, Lennox regarded her, "Call her."

Elena blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Call her. Right now. You heard me."

"Oh, I heard you, alright. I just wasn't sure something so stupid came out of your mouth."

Lennox leaned forward, "You have to call Mearing and tell her to revoke Attinger's clearance."

"No," Elena huffed, "I'm not going to do that."

"Why the hell not? You've stood up to Mearing before."

"When I needed to yes, but this is not one of those times."

Lennox's voice soured, "Sure looks like one of those times to me."

Elena pressed her lips together into a thin frustrated line, "Look, neither of us likes the woman, but she technically hasn't done anything wrong."

"She let Attinger on base," Lennox growled.

Calmly Elena explained, "Yes, which she technically has the right and authority to do." Before Lennox could object, Elena held up a hand to stop him, "I don't like it anymore than you do, but all this proves is that Mearing is Attinger's connection to N.E.S.T."

Grimly, Lennox assessed the situation, "So we need to assume that anything Mearing knows about the Autobots and the base, Attinger knows, too."

Elena calmly explained, "Calling Mearing and snarling at her for being connected to Attinger isn't going to help, in fact it would probably make matters worse, because it would give her a reason to start sniffing further into N.E.S.T. business."

"You mean our business." Lennox corrected her.

Elena nodded slowly, "She could launch plenty of uncomfortable investigations on us that would leave both of us mired in pointless paperwork for months. She could keep us so bogged down with squabbling bureaucrats that we wouldn't be able to focus on what truly matters here—our people, our team and the Autobots. We're the shield between grubbing politicians, corporations and the Autobots. Optimus knows how to be diplomatic when he wants to, I'll give him that, but he doesn't always understand how humans think and act." Elena let out a defeated sigh, "Lennox, she could even get us both reassigned."

"So, what? We just let this go?"

"Lennox, right now we have bigger problems on our doorstep. At least we know about Attinger's connection to Mearing now, so we won't be blindsided by it again." Elena leaned forward slightly, "And we need to start screening anything and everything that might get back to Mearing. We have to assume that she and Attinger are in constant communication."

His frustration at the situation building again, Lennox retorted, "She's just like Attinger…she manipulates everyone." He folded his arms across his chest, "I guess we should have seen this coming though, you know how she feels about the Autobots."

"Yes, I do." Elena answered sharply, "and so do you. So, don't you start to try to imply she's the true enemy here."

Thrown by her tone, Lennox looked back at her blankly, but she continued before he could respond, "We both know that there is no love lost between Mearing and the Autobots," Elena conceded, "but she's made it clear she isn't their enemy. She may not like them, but she at least recognizes that we need them." When Lennox held on to his wall of stubborn silence, Elena pushed, "Lennox…while Mearing and Attinger may think alike at times—which seems to be the case now—it doesn't mean that they are alike. She can be manipulated, just like everyone else, and this Attinger seems to be the kind of man who operates outside of regulation."

"You really think Attinger manipulated Mearing somehow into giving him clearance —" But Lennox's words were drowned out by the sound of Elena's office phone shrilly ringing.

Watching Lennox carefully, Elena answered it, "Director O'Connor." She spoke tersely into the receiver and listened grimly to the unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line. After a pause, she said in a flat tone, "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

Nonplussed, Lennox tilted his head and mouthed silently at her, "Who is that?"

Elena shrugged, shaking her head, "No one I know—" she mouthed back to him before answering her mysterious caller, "Even if what you're saying is true, what makes you think that I'm just going to up and give you permission to—"

But she was cut off by the other individual's sharp retort. She frowned as she continued to listen, liking less and less of what she was being told. After long minutes, she barked out a laugh, "You can just go ahead and try."

Whatever the voice on the other end of the line told her, Elena lifted an eyebrow at, "Oh he did, did he?" She suppressed an icy laugh, "I think Fury's definition of friendship is entirely different than mine…" She pressed her lips into a thin line, listening intently before she spoke again. "Can you verify that?" she told the caller, then after another pause she snapped, "See that you do."

Nerves unsettled his stomach once more as Lennox watched his friend's expression darken, "Fine." She said icily, "Oh, and Secretary? I'm going to tell you the same thing I told your friend, Director Fury…I don't like it when people poach on my territory." Whatever the caller thought of that, Elena's only reply was to hang up, slamming the receiver down with more temper than discretion.

She clenched her jaw before asking Lennox simply, "Do you know the Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross?"

"No…" Lennox answered hesitantly.

"Well, Wanda Maximoff does."

Before Lennox could respond, Elena continued, "As a matter of fact, so does Captain Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Scott Lang and Sam Wilson." She swallowed thickly, "And it seems as though this Mr. Ross had quite a bit to say about our guests and their legal status…"

# # #

Approaching the small house tucked away on the far side of the base, away from the hustle and bustle of daily operations, Steve marveled at how inviting the butter yellow lights shining through the kitchen window looked. His shoes crunched on the gravel as he walked up the drive; he could just distinguish errant strands of conversation, punctuated by laughter. On the air he could smell something savory, something laced with garlic and onion cooking. Had to be Barton, he thought to himself; out of everyone, Clint seemed to be the only one who not only enjoyed cooking, but seemed to be genuinely good at it. But that was because Barton had something that most of them didn't: Barton had a family. So did Lang, Rogers internally corrected himself. But somehow Rogers could never quite imagine Lang mastering anything more complex in the kitchen than a T.V. dinner.

"Home sweet home right, Captain?"

Steve glanced at his companion and returned the younger soldier's smile. No one had ordered Corporal Stuart Seeley to give Rogers a ride back from base that day, rather the solider had offered it freely, out of friendship. Besides Lennox and Epps, Stuart seemed to be one of the few N.E.S.T. operatives that had made an overture of genuine friendship toward Rogers and the others. Moreover, he was one of the few who had been able to put his awe of the Avengers aside enough to see them as people rather than icons.

"Feels that way, Corporal Seeley."

"Captain, please call me Stuart."

As Rogers stepped up onto the small porch, the younger N.E.S.T. soldier hung back several paces, clearly not wishing to intrude or over step his bounds. Before the younger solider could snap the salute he was itching to give, Rogers tipped his head towards the door.

"Why don't you come in and join us, Stuart?" Rogers found himself genuinely liking the corporal, "I can guarantee that whatever Barton is cooking up, will probably be better than the mess hall."

Stuart grinned, "I wouldn't doubt you there, Captain Rogers."

"Steve." Rogers corrected the other.

The soldier's answering grin nearly took in his ears, "Steve." He echoed, but just as he took a half step forward, as though to accept the invitation offered, the growl of an approaching engine broke the ease of the moment, filling the space between the two near-friends. Instantly, Stuart stiffened and turned toward the approaching vehicle. The night drenched flames were muted, but even without them, there was no mistaking the Autobot leader. Without inhibition, Prime pulled right up into the driveway and without a pause for greetings, transformed into his bipedal form.

His cerulean optics shifted to first regard Stuart, "Good evening, Corporal Seeley." While Rogers couldn't claim any true familiarity with the Autobot, there was no mistaking his terse tone—this was no greeting.

It was a dismissal.

Apparently, Stuart didn't miss it either and snapped off a quick salute to first Prime, and then to Rogers.

Just as Stuart retreated toward his N.E.S.T. issued jeep, Rogers couldn't help but call out to the other, "Tomorrow then, Stuart?" He asked, stepping away from the front door and tucking his hands in his pockets casually, despite the fact that he felt nothing of the sort. But there was no use in letting Stuart know that. After all, the younger soldier was—like every other N.E.S.T. operative—fully acclimated to the Autobot's presence.

Stuart paused, keys in hand, "Will Barton be cooking?" he asked, his tone light.

Rogers nodded his head once, "You can count on it."

Stuart smiled, "Tomorrow then..." there was a heartbeat of a pause as Stuart glanced over to Prime, who had thus far waited silently, "Goodnight, sir."

Rogers waited, his gaze trained on Stuart's jeep until even the tail lights were swallowed up in the darkness. Feeling the tension seep back into his shoulders, Rogers shifted to acknowledge the Autobot Leader at last.

"Wanda Maximoff is on her way here." Optimus rumbled before Rogers could greet him, "Before she arrives, we have much to discuss, Captain."

And just like that, gone was the ease of the evening, "Has something happened?" It was hard to keep one's voice even when looking up into the face of a titian.

As Optimus regarded him, Rogers realized, for the first time, that his battle mask was in place, shielding his facial features. As if from a decade ago, Rogers recalled Elena's words from when they first arrived on base: Standing so close to Optimus, Elena reached up easily and rapped her clipboard against Prime's facial plating with a hollow clang, "It's his battle mask, he can use it to shield his face during combat…or when he's cranky," She smirked.

So, Optimus was on the defensive.

"When you and your team arrived, I offered you my trust," Prime's sonorous tone washed over Rogers.

"Prime, if you have something to say, I suggest you say it." Steve didn't attempt to keep the bite out of his voice. Not after the way Prime had dismissed Stuart, and certainly not if the Autobot was about to accuse him—or any of his team—of breaking faith.

"Wanda Maximoff crossed a line today." There was no denying the displeasure in the other's voice, "She was seen in the company of a politician."

"Last I checked, talking with a politician is not a crime." Rogers retorted.

Optimus narrowed his optics at the other, and Rogers found himself taking a half step back without consciously deciding to do so. He felt suddenly aware of the other's proximity, of the vastness of that alien intelligence—and strength. Even with all of his abilities, all of his training and experience, Rogers seriously doubted if he would stand a ghost of a chance against an enraged Optimus. Perhaps it would be best to tread lightly—or rather, lighter than he had been. Afterall, the Autobot was not his enemy.

"It is not a crime." Optimus conceded after an uncomfortable moment, "But it is cause for concern. Captain Rogers, this particular politician's known associates have been working actively against N.E.S.T….against the Autobots." After another heartbeat of silence, Optimus moved to slowly kneel, no longer towering over the other. "Captain," he spoke again, and while his inflection hadn't changed, Rogers sensed the shift in Prime's mood, "This politician passed information to Ms. Maximoff."

"And you have proof of that?"

Optimus bowed his head in a regal nod, "Bumblebee witnessed the exchange in its entirety." The Autobot Leader exvented, "Captain Rogers, if this were not a grave matter, as I fear it is, I would not be here."

"I thought I heard males grumbling at each other." Like a whip-crack, Natasha Romanoff's voice sounded behind Rogers.

Gritting his teeth, he murmured, "Nat…not a good time."

Her gaze shifted over to the Autobot Leader, "Lucky for you, I've never known what a good time is. I operate exclusively in the shit-has-hit-the-fan kind of time." She nudged her chin in Optimus' direction, "What's he doing here this time of night?" Instead of waiting for Rogers' answer, Natasha simply walked around Steve to stand directly before the Prime. Rogers couldn't help but admire her boldness.

"You wanna tell me what's going on or just continue to growl at my friend here?"

"I do not appreciate your levity, Ms. Romanoff."

"I don't think you know what levity is." She quipped back.

"Natasha." Rogers reached forward, his fingertips brushing against her forearm.

Optimus shifted, bringing his countenance on level with Natasha's. With narrowed optics he ground the gears in his throat together in a harsh, threatening sound: an Autobot growl. Natasha had hit a nerve. Instantly, Rogers was transported back to just days ago, when Optimus had confided in him about Megatron. Flashes of the nightmarish image Fury had shown him so many years ago assaulted him; of hard, unyielded edges, a sharp tangle of talons and claws, of fiery, damning eyes…Megatron, a true construct of evil and destruction…"He was my brother."

… the blunt honesty of his words hit home with Rogers… "He was my brother."

In that moment, Rogers couldn't help but wonder how close the similarities struck true. Forcibly pulling himself back into the present, Steve was startled to find Optimus' discerning gaze upon him, rather than Romanoff.

"Captain," he rumbled, "we are beyond the mere question of Wanda Maximoff's loyalty."

"You can bet your tin can ass, you are. Wanda would never betray any of you," Romanoff snapped defensively, "because it would mean betraying us."

Rogers stepped forward, close enough now to Prime he could hear the slight sigh of pistons and gears as the Autobot tracked his movements and the great frame shifted ever so slightly, "You said we are beyond the question…then why are you really here, Prime?"

"The hour is later than you can imagine, Captain." Optimus moved to stand, "I fear because of Wanda's actions, there are now greater forces in motion. Your presence here is no longer a secret..." He paused, his voice heavy and thick, "You need to prepare your team for what may come tomorrow."

"And what exactly is coming tomorrow?" Natasha asked before Steve could.

"Not what, but who," Optimus shuttered his optics once, that piercing cerulean gaze flickering, "A human named Thaddeus Ross."

For a moment, Steve forgot how to breathe.