Today's awful and I like this chapter. I hope your weeks going better than mine. Please read and review. Thanks.

...

Fractured

3. Asking Around

"Hey Prime, you sure you're ready to get back to the job so quick?"

Optimus shot his old friend a sharp look. Ironhide hadn't been the first bot to ask him that question today and he had the bad feeling he wouldn't be the last. He'd been on leave for the past orn after Ultra Magnus had given him the news that his spark mate's team had been extinguished on a planetary exploration run. And apparently every other bot in Iacon thought it wasn't enough time to be left alone in his misery.

Only there had been some mistake. Elita wasn't offline. By some miracle he was grateful for with his entire spark, she was still alive. Changed, but alive.

She just refused to let everyone else know that.

Optimus slanted another look at the red bot walking next to him. Like all of their other friends and family, he still thought Elita was gone. And it was turning out to be a whole lot slagging harder to keep that particular secret to himself then Optimus had thought.

"I'm fine." The taller bot ground out through clenched teeth. "But if you don't quit asking then I'm going to have to pound you into scrap metal." He grumbled.

Ironhide snorted and shot him a look of his own as they turned a corner in the complex hallway system. "Oh yeah, because that sounds like something you would normally say."

Optimus glared at the annoying bot following him, but didn't answer. Just kept making his way through the halls of the elite guard's half of the central administration building.

He still didn't understand it really, why Elita insisted on keeping her existence a secret from bots that were so close to them they might as well be family. He knew they would understand her predicament once they explained it to them just like he knew they wouldn't condemn her for being infected with organic material. If anything he thought they'd be more than willing to help her find a cure, a way back to her original frame.

But no. She refused. She was so terrified that they'd despise her for what she'd become on Archa-7 that she wouldn't even tell their own son that she was still alive.

Optimus bit back a growl as he stomped around the next bend in the white hallway system. That was the part that irked him the most. On some level he could understand why she might not want her friends seeing her like this. But her own son? Their only offspring? He knew she loved little Leo, and he supposed that was why she was so afraid of telling him the truth, but Optimus couldn't help but wonder…would she have told him that she was still online if he hadn't seen her outside the window?

Optimus shook his head. Now was probably not the best time to be thinking about that anyway. He was almost to his destination.

"Hey Prime, ya forget yer way around already? Ultra Magnus' offices are this way." Ironhide jerked a digit back the way they'd just come.

Optimus grunted but didn't turn back. "I know. I've got to see Alpha Trion about some paperwork before I report in." He told his friend. It was an excuse really since the paperwork was merely a formality that could be taken care of later, however he wanted to see Alpha Trion as soon as possible. He was one of the oldest bots on Cybertron and he hoped that the older mech might be able to at least give him some idea of who to talk to about Elita's…condition.

Walking a step behind him, the other mech slanted a suspicious look at his friend's back. "Paperwork my aft," he thought, "first ya freak out at 'Lita's wake – scarin' all of us half to the Pit and back thank ya very much – and then ya shut yerself up in her house alone for an orn, leavin' Leo with Moonracer when the only bot he wants to see is you." Ironhide's engine revved slightly as he followed Optimus down another arbitrary corner. "I'm tellin' ya, Chromia may think yer only grieving, but I know better. Yer keepin' sumthin' from me and I'm gonna find out what it is if it's the last thing I do."

Unaware of Ironhide's inner monologue, Optimus continued walking, wishing his friend would just leave him alone for at least a little longer.

Then he stopped so abruptly that Ironhide nearly ran into him. Fortunately highly trained elite guard members were on the whole fast enough to keep from railroading their annoying friends.

Optimus whirled around and glared at Ironhide, which was strange enough to make the other bot stop in the first place.

"Did you need something from me? Or are you just planning on following me around all orbit like a lost cyber-ducking?"

The red mech stiffened at the harsh tone. "Ya know what? Fine! Keep whatever secret that's makin' ya go all haywire! See what I care!" He snapped back before stomping away.

He turned around about five steps later and stomped backwards long enough to shout back, "Oh! And by tha way, Ultra Magnus wants to see ya when yer done with old Alpha Trion!"

Then he spun back around and stomped around the corner.

Optimus watched him go, glaring all the while. What did Ironhide think? That he wasn't capable of taking care of himself? That he actually needed some youngling-sitter to make sure he was still in his right processor so that he could go through reports and official papers?

Optimus only made it a few more steps before he stopped cold in the hallway.

"Slag," Optimus thought sourly. "Just one more thing I need right now..."

But dealing with Ironhide would have to wait until later. Right now he needed to go talk with Councilor Trion.

With a rough sigh Optimus started walking again towards the invisible line that separated the elite guard's section of the building from the high council's.

Alpha Trion's offices were set in one of the more out of the way hallways instead of the highest floor where all the other council members had taken up residence where Optimus had gone to first.

"Unusual," Optimus thought as he approached the door after descending twenty levels, taking a right, backtracking when he realized he was supposed to have taken a left, "I wonder why he doesn't keep his offices near the other council members."

The tall bot shook his head to clear it before pulling himself together. He unconsciously straightened his shoulders and settled into a more military stance before raising a servo and knocking sharply on the door.

He must have surprised whoever was on the other side because a muffled clatter came through the closed door. "Wha-oo!" Somebot shouted before he was drowned out by the clattering of many metallic objects falling and hitting each other.

"What the-?" Optimus muttered as he raised an optic ridge at the door. Councilors weren't that clumsy…were they?

The door was suddenly opened by a young femme, probably the councilor's intern. She seemed to have an all around pleasant demeanor, but she did look somewhat confused by his presence.

"I'm, uh," Optimus tried to remember what he was here for, "I'm here to see Councilor Trion."

She gave him a look that said, 'well that clears things up,' but before she could tell him to go away, an ancient sounding voice appeared over her shoulder in good humor.

"Let him in Ariel, maybe he can figure out how to get this contraption off me."

Optimus resisted the urge to lean to the left just a little and see who was trapped in what. The pink intern, Ariel apparently, just sighed and stepped out of the way.

"Well come in," she said, sounding tired, "feel free to take a seat, if you can find one in this mess." She mumbled the last part under her breath as she turned back to trying to get the councilor out from under the clutter he'd gotten himself tangled up in.

It took Optimus a cycle to understand just what he was looking at. At first he thought maybe he was looking at one of those abstract sculptures Sideswipe's brother was known for creating, but then he saw that the rectangular thing supporting the wires and their circular baubles was actually a foot. It took him another cycle to realize that one of the wires dangling off the foot wasn't a wire at all. It was a ridiculously long mustache that had gotten tangled in the wires.

Eventually the rest of the councilor appeared out of the mess of wires, spheres, and data pads that had fallen on top of him. He had landed upside down, shoulders smashed against the floor with the weight of the mobile base that was sitting on his thin chest. His arms were spread against the floor for balance while his other foot was propped against the wall.

Alpha Trion tried to look up at his guest, but the wires had practically tied his chin to his chest. Although that didn't stop him from being a proper host.

"Well don't just stand there," he told the bot standing in his door, "come in! Have a seat while I figure out how to get out of here without taking my leg off. Yes, just shove that pile of reports to the floor. They don't deserve the chair anyway. They're quite annoying as it is." He wriggled in his wire bindings, making the baubles jingle.

"Uh-huh…" Optimus muttered, not sure what to say. And then, not knowing what to do either, he waded through the fallen clutter in the general direction Alpha Trion had said the chair was.

"How does he find anything in this mess?" Optimus muttered to himself as he shuffled past a stack of data pads as high as his elbow. "If all the other councilors' offices are like this then its no wonder they took forever to debate matters. It's a miracle they can find their reports at all!" He carefully moved aside what looked like a miniature planetary system model standing on top of another stack of reports out of the way against the wall. Optimus groaned when he saw that there was another wall of stuff on the other side. "And where is that stupid ch-?!"

Crack!

Pain lanced up Optimus' shin as it smacked against something hard in the clutter. "Oh," he muttered in strangled words, "there it is."

Behind the councilor's desk, the pink femme laughed lightly. "Just be glad it wasn't the cyber-cat's tail." She muttered as she sorted the data pads she was holding into the two main stacks on the desk.

"Yes," the councilor agreed where he was still stuck upside down in his project, "that's what started this whole mess in the first place." The spherical baubles dangling on the wires gave a slight jingle as he tried to shake his arm free.

"No Granddad," Ariel said patiently as she threw another data pad on the smaller pile, "that was this one knocking on the door." She tilted her butterfly shaped helmet in Optimus' direction before throwing another data pad on the desk.

"Oh," the old mech took another moment to wriggle, "yes, quite right."

Optimus watched in some confusion as the strange pair fell silent. For the next handful of cycles the only sounds in the room were that of the councilor's slight incoherent grumbling as he went about his wriggling and the staccato clack of the data pads as Ariel threw them into their respective piles.

Eventually Alpha Trion realized that his visitor was still standing there.

"Aren't you going to sit?" He blinked up at him from his upside down position.

Optimus eyed the hodge podge of clerical and scientific debris surrounding the chair like a volcano about to erupt and decided he'd stand instead.

"Uh…I'm good." He told the old mech before settling further into his 'at ease' position.

Alpha Trion sighed and looked back at the wires pinning his arm to his chest. "You military bots, so serious all the time, won't even sit down when there's a perfectly good chair just taking up space. I don't remember bots being this stubborn when I was younger-"

He continued his muttering as Optimus looked over at Ariel. She seemed rather unconcerned by the councilor's actions at any rate.

"Is this…" he tried to think of a diplomatic description, "normal around here?"

Ariel hardly looked up from her sorting. "Oh he hasn't even gotten started yet." She told him, not bothering to keep her voice down. "And if you're not going to sit you might as well make yourself useful and help him out of that web of his. Grandmother tells him not to keep something like that in the house so what does he do? He takes it to his office where it's not only likely to fall over, it's guaranteed." Another data pad hit the stack with a sharp clack.

Optimus was beginning to see that muttering ran in the family, so he quietly made his way past the clutter to the wall where the councilor was, er, tied up.

Somewhat haltingly, he bent over to be more at the councilor's optic level and asked, "Can I, er, help you sir?"

Alpha Trion looked absurdly calm about being upside down and tied up in his own creation. "Yes, if you don't mind just pulling that wire right there and I think I'll just slip right out-"

"This one?" Optimus asked uncertainly as he reached for one of the wires pinning the bot's arm.

"No no no that wire-" Alpha Trion jerked his chin at another cluster of wires. Or at least, he tried to…

"You mean this wire-" Optimus tugged at a different string.

"Yes yes yes now just pull, yes just like that-"

"Are you sure it won't-" Tug tug.

"Not like that! Ow-"
"Sorry I'll just-" He let go abruptly.

Snap!

"Ow!"

"Sorry…"

Across the room, Ariel put down her sorting with a sigh. "Oh for heaven's sake…" she muttered before crossing the room with decisive strides. A tricky feat given all the clutter.

She stopped in front of her upside down grandsire and the bot trying to help him and propped her servos on her hips to frown at them.

"Really." She said, sounding put upon as she reached out and expertly looped one string out from where it had been cutting off the older bot's circulation to his head.

There was a sudden jangle and crunch as Alpha Trion landed in a heap on the floor, the wires falling off into a loosely tangled mess on the floor around him.

Optimus stared unblinkingly at the jumbled heap of councilor on the floor.

The muffled words, "Thank you my dear…" drifted out of the middle of the jumble.

Ariel just huffed and went back over to the desk. Optimus noticed she was shaking her head.

With a groan, the councilor finally made his way to his feet, Optimus hovering uncertainly nearby. Was it more polite to help old councilor's to their feet after seeing something like that, he wondered, or was it best to pretend the last ten cycles just hadn't happened?

Unsure of the answer, Optimus looked for a change in subject instead. "So, ah, what, what was that?" He pointed at the loops of wire now on the floor. The spherical baubles that had been strung on them were now rolling away in all directions, most never to be seen again.

Alpha Trion vented a disappointed sigh as he rubbed his sore head and looked down at the remains of his project on the floor. "It was supposed to be a working model of the Sirenia sector, with the planets moving along their orbits and everything. But Triton here," he nudged one of the larger spherical baubles with his stabilizing servo and sent it rolling into the corner, "upset the whole balance when it drifted into Attina there." He nodded at an empty spot on the floor and blinked in confusion. "Eh? Where'd she go?"

"She disappeared under your last project," Ariel spoke up from across the room, "you remember, the one that was supposed to make my job easier?" She asked with a sarcastic kind of grin as she threw the last data pad onto its pile, nearly upsetting the whole stack and sending it to the floor.

Alpha Trion looked sheepish. "Oh, right…" he mumbled.

Ariel sighed as if she had resigned herself to the fact that there would always be Tritons and Attinas getting lost in corners after tying up her granddad and making him stand on his head for several cycles.

Alpha Trion seemed to shake himself out of whatever thought his processor had gotten lost in and he looked over at his granddaughter. "Wait, what are you doing here today? I thought you were on vacation so you could spend time with that new mate of yours." He asked, scratching at his helm as if he was wondering if he was remembering right or if he was just losing his processor altogether.

Optimus had his own opinion on that matter himself, but didn't think it a very polite thing to add at the moment.

"I had only come in to get my purse," she held up a pink clutch that matched her paint, "but then I saw you messing with that thing and knew that if I didn't stay to save you from its clutches when it finally got you, then you'd be here standing on your head all orbit." She leveled a flat look at her grandfather.

Alpha Trion brushed it off with a wave of his servo. "Nonsense," he told her sounding very sure of himself, "this nice young mech would have come around and helped me out eventually. Wouldn't you, erm," the older bot stopped cold in his words as he looked over at Optimus standing next to him, "and just who are you again?"

Optimus resisted the urge to sigh, although he noticed that Ariel didn't. "Optimus Prime sir. I came to speak with you about returning to service."

Alpha Trion nodded as if this jogged a memory, but Optimus got the distinct impression he was faking to make his granddaughter feel better. "Ah, right, yes. You see Ariel?" He turned back to the pink femme watching them with one servo propped on her hip. "I would have been perfectly safe if you hadn't come to get your little bag thing. Now go on," he waved her towards the door, "shoo now. Have a nice day doing things that doesn't involve Ratbat demanding to speak with me when I'm dangling upside down from the ceiling fan."

He continued shooing her towards the door, grinning like a grandfatherly kind of cyber-loon, but Ariel only smiled back at him, so Optimus assumed this was also usual for the old bot.

The pink femme only paused long enough to murmur to Optimus, "Try to keep him away from the window if you don't mind…" before slipping out the door.

Alpha Trion ignored her parting words as he waved from the doorway. "Tell Orion I said hello." He called after her before finally turning to where Optimus was still standing awkwardly near the wires on the floor.

"Now," Alpha Trion said as he straightened up, "what are you here for again young Prime? Something about returning from leave?"

Optimus clasped his arms behind his back. "Yes sir," he answered, then paused, wondering how he should go about asking the old bot for advice when he couldn't tell him just what he needed advice about…

But the old councilor was shrewder then the Prime had first thought given that whole being-tied-upside-down-by-his-own-planetary-mobile thing, because as he sat down and leaned back into his chair, he fixed sharp blue optics on the younger bot.

Optimus resisted the urge to fidget and stared at the wall behind the councilor's head instead.

Alpha Trion made a thoughtful noise in the back of his vocal processor before leaning forward again and pulling the data pad Ariel had left on his desk closer for his inspection. He reviewed the document a moment before signing his name at the bottom.

"There," he said, setting the data pad aside and leaning back into his chair again as he leveled a thoughtful gaze at the young commander, "now what did you really want to talk with me about young bot?"

Optimus' optics flicked to the old mech automatically. "Excuse me sir?" He asked, taken aback.

Alpha Trion's sharp optics didn't leave the bot standing stiffly in front of him. "Pretty much anyone in my office could have done that for you. It's not like they don't go about signing things all day anyway, that's their job. So then why did you want to speak with me directly?" He asked again, resting his hands on his chest as he sized the young mech up.

Optimus looked down at the floor, looking more like a youngling that had gotten caught in a lie then a Prime.

Alpha Trion waited.

Finally Optimus found enough words to answer. "I was hoping that you could…assist me sir." He managed to force the words out.

"Oh?" Alpha Trion asked, raising one white optic ridge at him. "And what were you hoping I could," a small ironic smile appeared under his long mustache, "assist you with?"

Optimus shifted his weight nervously, and then stopped when he realized he was doing it. "I," Optimus tried to think quickly and suddenly found he could barely keep the reason why he was here in his processor. He had always found it difficult talking to higher ranking bots. What if he said the wrong thing and only made things worse?

He snapped his mouth closed and mentally shook himself. "I can't back down now." He told himself. "If he can tell me how to help Elita then it'll worth a few cycles of embarrassment."

He strengthened his resolve and met the old mech's searching optics.

"One of the exploration teams has just returned from an organic planet. They passed preliminary health exams, however after a few orbital cycles they began to fall ill. Further testing showed they had been…" he hated this word, but he could think of no other, "infected with organic material. It's begun to change their basic circuitry. I was hoping, with your advanced-" he hesitated.

Alpha Trion raised that same white optic ridge. "Age?" He suggested coolly.

Optimus felt his systems kick up a notch in response to his stress. "Knowledge," he managed to say instead, "that you would be able to help them. Or at least," his words slowed as he reached the end of his speech, "point us in the direction of someone who can?"

Optimus tried to fidget again as the old councilor fixed his surprisingly knowing optics on him. It felt like he was trying to ferret out the truth of the young Prime's statement just by staring at him. Optimus wasn't sure if Alpha Trion really could see the lies he was telling, but it sure made him uncomfortable.

He was just beginning to feel his servos start to shake from how stiffly he held them behind his back when the councilor finally leaned forward in his chair and steepled his digits in front of his mouth plates thoughtfully.

"And organic infection hm?" He asked more of himself than Optimus. "I can see why this is so important to you. Any kind of contagion is of course dangerous to society at large, however an organic one such as this poses numerous other complications to worry about as well."

Optimus felt his shoulders stiffen. "It does?" He asked carefully.

Alpha Trion nodded, seemingly absentminded as he stared off into the middle ground. "Yes," he said gravely, "we as a cybernetic race with practically no contact with organics are entirely unprepared for an organic infection like the one you speak of. If it were to be transmitted between bots with ease, it could well turn into a plague the likes of which we have never dealt with before. Have any symptoms appeared in the staff currently taking care of your infected members?"

Optimus' first thought was for his son. As young as he was, little Leo was more susceptible to illness. However apart from his obvious depression at his mother's 'death', he hadn't shown any symptoms like spitting that strange, sticky webbing Elita suddenly had or growing any more optics then usual. Of course, he hadn't had direct contact with his mother since she'd returned from Archa-7.

"No sir, none that I've noticed." Optimus told the councilor.

Alpha Trion did not look relieved. "That you've noticed? Then you've seen them for yourself?"

Optimus nodded once sharply. "Yes sir."

"And have you felt anything out of the ordinary since you've come into contact with them?"

Optimus' brow furrowed thoughtfully. No, no webbing or extra optics here either.

"No sir, I feel…fine." Truthfully he was miserable, confused, and he felt more helpless then he'd ever felt in his life, but those were all internal issues. Not what the councilor was asking for. Physically he was just as healthy as the old mech sitting in front of him. Maybe slightly more so since he hadn't spent the last half mega-cycle standing on his processor.

Alpha Trion pinned him with a bright optic, like a strange, lanky, mustached bird. "I see…" he said slowly as if he saw more then Optimus would have liked him too. "Well then, there are two names that spring to mind that may well be able to help you and your…friends."

Optimus shifted hopefully. Maybe this could still be resolved easily. Maybe Elita would be back to her normal self by the end of the lunar orbit. Maybe they could move on and forget this had ever happened in the first place…

Alpha Trion pulled a data pad out of his desk and wrote two names on its screen. "Wheeljack and Ratchet are a scientist and a medi-bot respectively and they are both brilliant." He finished signing the two bots' names with a flourish. "But I would start with Wheeljack. He'll probably be easier to get a hold of at the moment."

"I've never heard of them." Optimus said in some confusion. If they were both so brilliant then why had Ultra Magnus never asked them to assist with some of the more sensitive elite guard projects?

Alpha Trion's sharp optics turned hard. "Most veteran bots like them have seen enough action for five life cycles, much less one. They each prefer to be left in peace young bot." The councilor told him somewhat sharply. "However given the stakes, this makes for as good an exception as any."

Optimus stiffened to attention, realizing he'd hit a nerve. "Yes sir." He snapped out. "Thank you sir."

Alpha Trion stared him down a moment longer before picking up the data pad with the names on it and holding the device out for Optimus to take.

"I suspect their experience will be especially helpful to you as well." Alpha Trion said as Optimus took the data pad from him.

Optimus blinked in confusion. "Experience sir?" He asked carefully. He didn't want to hit another sore spot again. Not only could offending the councilor prevent anymore help for Elita, but Optimus had never liked creating tension between him and others. It didn't exactly create a helpful working environment.

However this time Alpha Trion did not look offended. Instead he looked a little…disturbed.

"Your friends are lucky that they caught this infection now, rather than during the war." He told the elite guard commander, his optics drifting as old memories floated to the surface of his mind. "Back then command was interested in the idea of an organic disease for the same reasons I mentioned above-"

"Our susceptibility and unprepared state sir?" Optimus asked to be sure.

Alpha Trion nodded slowly. "Yes, and they had several bots working on ways to create one that could be used against the Decepticons."

Optimus frowned slightly. "Including this Ratchet and Wheeljack sir?"

Again, Alpha Trion nodded. "Yes, back then, your friends would have been used as test subjects so they could observe how the organic-ness affected our systems. It would not be, to put it politely…a pleasant experience."

A silence followed Alpha Trion's words, one that made Optimus go all cold inside.

"And," the younger bot said slowly, suddenly terrified out of his mind, "and now?" The elite guard wouldn't really take away one of their own so they could study her…would they?

Alpha Trion's sigh did nothing to comfort Optimus.

"Ratchet and Wheeljack both understand when to speak out," Alpha Trion fixed meaningful optics on the young bot in front of him, "and when to stay silent. I would not worry trusting them, but the rest of the world…" He trailed off.

A shudder crawled down Optimus' spinal strut. A horrible image of Elita – his Elita – strapped down to a hospital gurney with her internal's packaged and labeled in medical jars on the counter next to her while medi-bots argued over what to study next flashed through his processor. Instinctively he felt his servos curl into fists. He would send them all to the scrapheap before letting them lay one filthy servo on her.

Slowly, Optimus managed to shove the image away. In the back of his processor he was glad that he still had his servos behind his back where the councilor couldn't see them shaking with equal parts fear and anger.

"I see." He said when he thought his voice wouldn't give away his extreme emotion. "Thank you Councilor Trion. I'll make sure to keep that in mind."

He didn't look up in time to catch the thoughtful expression on the councilor's face. All he saw when he finally met Alpha Trion's optics again was an old mech mildly concerned for a group of bots he had never met.

"Good," Alpha Trion said, "in that case you are free to go. I'm sure the sooner Wheeljack learns of your predicament, the sooner your team will be back to normal."

Optimus smartly saluted the councilor. "Yes sir, thank you sir," he snapped out before turning on his heel and leaving the room, data pad in hand.

Alpha Trion watched him go, one servo thoughtfully covering his mouth as his mind wandered to a darker time when it had been more acceptable for the ends to justify the means. Cautiously he began to wonder...could it be happening again?