Imperfections
'You're nothing. You're worthless. Nothing more than a failed experiment kept alive out of pity. Never forget that. Never forget exactly what you are. It will keep you alive….'
The words ran in and around Miranda's head on a constant loop. She tried to push it to the back of her mind, tried to block it out with more important matters, but no matter how hard her efforts, she could always hear its hum. It wove in and out of every part of her brain, making sure to plant seeds along the way that blossomed and buried their roots further.
Though they couldn't be ignored, they could be dimmed, and that was just what Miranda did as she watched the heart monitor in front of her suddenly spike. She looked down and listened to all of the equipment around her start beeping in a cacophony of alerts. Wincing at the sound, she glared at the man who had turned to check some readings. She was waking up. It definitely wasn't time yet. The woman on the bed stirred and, almost instinctively, Miranda rushed over to her side.
To be fair, it wasn't exactly uncalled for. The specimen on the table had cost Cerberus a pretty penny, and she was fair certain the Illusive Man would not be happy upon hearing that their four billion dollar project had fallen out of bed and broken her neck…again. Failure was not an option. In fact, Miranda rarely had conscious use for the word, unless she was using it to describe someone else's actions. It was that reason that she had been put in charge of this operation. And it was for that reason that her Lazarus Project was not going to fail.
Miranda pressed her hand ever so gently on the bare skin of the subject's shoulder, keeping her in place. "Try to relax, Shepard," she said calmly so as not to surprise her further. Bright emerald eyes were darting back and forth, occasionally settling on her before quickly moving onto something else. Miranda noticed the pupil dilation was responding well, if a bit slowly, which she had accounted for, and made a mental note to add that to the report. "Don't move or it will hurt worse," she added, watching as Shepard raised her hand, fingers brushing against her cheek softly.
Although she was extremely impressed by that reaction so early into recovery, Miranda kept her face stoic and gently took the hand, setting it back down by Shepard's side. Wilson's second dose of sedatives was kicking in now and she watched Shepard's eyelids flutter for a moment before closing, the beeping of the monitors dwindling until they were gone, back to normal readings. She smiled down at her project, making a few more mental notes for her reports before turning to Wilson with her trademark icy glare.
He tried to glare back, though it was clear who the winner was, and crossed his arms defiantly. Miranda thought the action made him look even more like the petulant child he was acting. She noted his graying hair and scruffy beard. There was a stain on his pants. Coffee, probably. There wasn't much sleep to be had at this facility. Project Lazarus was much too important to waste time sleeping. Did he even care to take care of himself anymore? Apparently not, as his posture was clearly begging for a confrontation.
"The readings are right," he said gruffly, shooting an angry arm towards the data pad on the counter. "See for yourself. No one could have predicted this. Besides, she's fine. Fell right back asleep."
"After a second dose of sedative," Miranda answered harshly. "You're lucky her heart didn't give from the sudden fluctuations. She wasn't ready for this, Wilson. She shouldn't have woken up."
Wilson's eyes hardened even more but despite his stubbornness, he couldn't keep his eyes from drifting downward as Miranda sauntered towards him. She hardly noticed. Watching men undressing her with their eyes was second nature. It had been ever since she'd developed her voluptuous chest. Men wanted her and men wanted to be her. It was fact, not fluff, and she needn't pay any mind to it. Grabbing the data pad, she scanned over the readings quickly before her eyes stopped on one precarious detail.
Smirking evilly, Miranda turned the data pad and pointed at the line with a manicured nail. "Can you tell me what that says?"
Wilson, still firm in his beliefs, squinted with his aging eyes, and read, "…Seven percent increase in RX-1539. That's—
"Shut up, and quit making a bigger fool of yourself. A seven percent increase in RX-1539 is enough to cause a reaction with the RX-425 that was already in her system. The reaction stimulates the adrenal medulla, confusing it, sending out increased doses of epinephrine. I really hope I don't have to explain the rest to you. Surely you can compute that much?"
The top of Wilson's bald head turned red as he glowered at the data pad, refusing to meet eyes with the Cerberus officer. "Sorry I don't have a fucking computer for a brain like some people," he muttered, ripping the data pad from her palm and throwing it back on the counter.
Miranda's brow lowered and she felt heat rising in her neck as the anger swelled inside of her. "Don't make excuses. You were chosen as top of the line, start acting like it before I put someone else in your place."
"What, another fucking lab rat like you? Some test tube genetics and a dash of 'daddy's-little-girl'? Hate to break it to you, sister, but there's only one of those: you. And you're the reason they didn't make any more like you."
It took everything Miranda had to not send a shockwave right through his saggy ass, but she didn't. Instead, she took a deep breath and grabbed Wilson by the chin, bringing him close until they were just centimeters apart. She could tell Wilson was uncomfortable, but also curious. Men were so easy to manipulate. Especially when you had perfect blue eyes and the best pouting lips money could buy.
"I can assure you, Wilson, that you know more about mistakes than I. Add two CCs of RX-517, and there shouldn't be a problem." Miranda spoke in a low, husky voice, watching as the man in front of her tried to remain focused and angry. But clearly it had been too long since any woman had spoken in this tone to him.
"Oh, and one more thing…"
Wilson, in all his efforts, had failed to notice Miranda raising her palm, which resulted in her slapping him hard across the cheek. He cursed in pain and held a hand to his flaming cheek, but the look on Miranda's face was much too confident for him to say anything.
"Don't ever speak to a woman like that."
She smiled evilly at him and snapped her fingers, pointing at the syringes in front of him. He jumped at the sound but turned and did as he was told. Though he muttered under his breath, it was clear who was in control now and Miranda smiled at his back before turning to face her project again.
She had to admit that she'd done well. With the exception of the scars, Shepard looked exactly like she had before the attack. Maybe even a bit better. Her hair still had a bit of growing to do, but that was to be expected, especially if she wanted to put it back up in the tight but she always had it in. Miranda had seen her eyes in action for the first time today and had deemed those a success so far too. Lips were slightly chapped from the sterile, dry room but as long and as full as ever. For a while, Miranda had even considered recreating the scars that used to line Shepard's chin and cross her eyebrow, but the cybernetic scars were enough.
Taking a deep breath, the sentinel reached down and stroked a few strands of hair out of Shepard's long eyelashes, pushing her hair behind her ear. Shepard's skin was cool to the touch, but upon lowering her hand a bit Miranda could feel the strong heartbeat beneath her chest. It made the operative's skin tingle and a rush of heat ran across her thighs. Physically, Shepard was a technological marvel, even for their advanced science. But she would have to wait a bit longer to see how well her emotional and mental state transferred over.
Miranda sighed as a whole new list of worries came tumbling down upon her. It was then that she remembered she had paperwork to do, reports to file, and a meeting with the Illusive Man. Thank goodness she never required much sleep, or she'd be dead. Reluctantly pulling her hand away from Shepard's skin, Miranda left the room and headed to her quarters. The Illusive Man would be expecting her report soon. She'd better get to studying.
0-0-0-0-0
"I'm glad to see you were so quick to find the mistake. We can't risk having Shepard wake before it's time again," the Illusive Man praised before taking a drag from his cigarette. Miranda nodded but before she could get the real taste of pride in herself, he spoke again. "However, I am disappointed that you didn't catch the problem beforehand."
Miranda lowered her head a bit. How could she have been so stupid? The Illusive Man never gave without taking away. She hated the way she fell for it almost every time. "Am I supposed to micromanage everyone?" she snapped, crossing her arms and jutting out her hips, watching as the Illusive Man ignored her body and slowly exhaled the smoke from his lungs.
"If it affects Shepard, it should be monitored by you. You knew the requirements of this project before you signed on. It's far too late for you to be complaining about them now. Besides, you know as well as I that they fall on deaf ears."
Miranda looked away, as close to a concession that she could muster, but the Illusive Man seemed to accept it, nodding and putting his cigarette out on his chair. "Good girl. Know your place and do your job. I expect a full report on this by the next sun cycle."
The operative didn't wait for him to bid her adieu before she stepped out of the holo-screen and left the room. She walked briskly down the hall to her room, making sure her heels clicked with intimidating authority. She didn't want to be bothered and she already pitied the first person that was going to try it. Why did she have to let her anger get in the way? It almost always clouded her judgment. And in front of the Illusive Man, no less. Miranda shook her head angrily; running a hand through her luscious brown hair to make sure it hadn't tangled. She was always the fool, always the second best, second place, second nothing. Sometimes she didn't know why she bothered.
"Something wrong, Miranda?" a voice called from behind her.
Miranda stopped in her tracks and sighed, lowering her head. She'd been looking forward to taking her anger out on the first person that spoke to her, but this man would get none of it. "Good evening, Jacob," she said professionally, turning her head as her came up next to her. He looked at her just as seriously and straightened his posture, like the perfect soldier he was.
"You look pissed off."
"How observant of you."
"Come on, don't be like that."
"Don't make obvious observations."
Jacob nodded, giving in, and Miranda silently thanked him for that. "I heard Shepard woke up this morning. Must have been nerve wracking."
Miranda sighed, "You know I can't talk about that."
"Yeah, I know. But it's okay, I can read what I need in your eyes."
Miranda smiled, scoffing a bit as she turned to face down the hall. She loved Jacob's company more than anyone she knew, but right now she wanted nothing more than to crawl behind the safety of her locked door and work on paperwork until she passed out from fatigue. The latter was unlikely but at least she could get work done hoping for it. Either way she especially didn't want to be in this hallway, listening to the hurt in Jacob's voice and seeing the longing in his eyes, feeling the regret in his careful movements.
Jacob shuffled his feet for a moment, and Miranda felt the warm weight of his hand being placed upon her shoulder. He squeezed her affectionately and she closed her eyes. She was no better than Wilson, enjoying this small display of affection so much, but she couldn't help it. It had been so long since…well, since anything worthwhile. Shepard had been her only focus for almost two years. And yet, she wasn't done. She couldn't let herself get distracted.
"I've got to go work on some reports," Miranda said finally, shrugging out of his grasp. He let his hand fall and nodded, knowing he'd get no further tonight. The sentinel wished him a quick good night before making her way to the end of the hall, stepping in through the door and locking it from the other side. Hearing the latch of the lock relaxed her almost instantly and she took a deep breath, resting against the door for a moment.
Jacob was nice, and he'd been good to her, but he had been a mistake. She knew it when she first accepted his offer for dinner many months ago and still went against her better judgment. It was just another reason backing her senselessness. She shook her head and looked at her computer. It was waiting patiently at her desk and she could make out the flashing indicator that informed her of her new messages. Then she eyed her bed. It was ill-used, but comfortable when she did find time to sleep. For some reason, it called to her more than it normally did. Miranda watched it lazily and imagined herself in it, snuggling up under the covers, head resting on the feather pillow, Shepard sleeping peacefully next to her…
Miranda's head shot up so quickly she almost slammed the back of it against the door. She'd definitely been spending too much time with her project. The Illusive Man should be proud. Trying to smirk but failing, Miranda eased her way over to her desk and sat down, opening up the messages and preparing herself for a long night.
