AM247: It's been a long time since I've written anything for this site. Almost a decade, in fact. Bear with me if there are any errors in the posting process.
So, chapters for this story will consist of fills I've done for prompts on the ME kinkmeme. Some are things I've written solo, others are things I've done with my cowriter. I'll start each chapter with a description of the prompt, followed by any necessary notes. I'm planning to start off with the more serious fills first, then get into more crackish territory, most likely. For those of you familiar with the Miranda fills on the kinkmeme, I am the anon responsible for Dick Shepard.
Anywhoo...
Prompt: I remember seeing a prompt some time ago for something involving Miranda meeting her moms, and I have something. Its rough, it butchers science, and probably canon, but it was fun to write. XD My idea was to create two characters with flaws, and controversial behavior, to represent different motifs seen in Miranda's own character. I hope I accomplished that, at least a little. :)
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bioware, save for Shosh, Indira, and Hannah Katz, which belong to me and my cowriter. Also, a big thanks to jtav, for their thoughts on Miranda's years. I could not have come up with ideas, like the krogan-biotic procedure as an explanation for Miranda's biotics, or Oleg's intelligence and expanded personality, without his/her stories for inspiration. :D
Australia, 2165
It was quiet on the shuttle. Nothing but the low hum of the engine to keep Dr. Indira Patel company, as she headed toward outskirts of Sydney, Lawson Manor looming in the distance.
Normally, Indira never would have considered taking on such a job. She was a neurosurgeon, one of the best the Alliance had produced in the past few decades. In her younger, more ambitious years, she would have killed to land a job like this. Implanting a teenage girl with eezo nodules, to produce biotics to rival an asari commando…it was a thrilling prospect.
And one laden with ethical difficulties, she noted. After watching dozens of young men and women come off her operating table either disabled, or dead, she'd had enough. Indira had taken a trip to Thessia, to investigate all she could about biotic potential from the foremost experts in the galaxy: the asari. Conatix had fired her of course, and representatives from the Alliance had been furious, claiming that she had made mankind look weak for consulting the Asari.
To hell with them. The asari were able to confirm the link between eezo and biotics, and offer a great deal of insight into her research on implant implementation. So far, she had a 94% success rate in her implant surgeries since visting Thessia. That last six percent was mainly due to outlying factors, such as diabetes, cerebral palsy, or even the influence of parasites, as was the case with one child. For the majority of healthy teenagers, the operation had an increased success rate of 30%. The only problem now lay in disorders that could be counteracted with the application of gene therapy, and of course, in the implants. The L2 was more powerful, certainly, but all too dangerous.
Perhaps her next trip to Thessia would involve further scientific inquiry, without the fear of voacational termination. Serrice had been a cultural marvel on par with ancient Greece, or the Mayan Empire before the Spanish invasion, or China, at the height of the Ming Dynasty. Humanity could learn so much from the Asari. And with their help, perhaps she could finally get rid of that last six percent in her work. Losing her grant with Conatix was certainly worth it, if it meant fewer dead teenagers.
But before she could begin work toward an L3 implant, she needed to be forgiven by her main backers, the Alliance. That would take time. And she had a family to feed. A husband that served as a lieutenant commander in the Alliance Marines, and three girls. One about to go off to college, one well situated in her rebellious teen years, and one just about to enter them.
Henry Lawson had been willing to offer plenty of money to ensure that his own daughter,a girl of fifteen—Miranda, if she recalled correctly—be implanted with nodules to conduct biotics. It was a risky procedure, one that she couldn't imagine performing on a human being, though Henry assured her that the girl was well-suited for the procedure.
Indira didn't believe him. For all those rumors about genetic perfection, the procedure had still been developed by the Krogan, for Krogan physiology. A good portion of them embraced pain and struggle the way children embraced candy and toys. And they had organs to spare for the procedure. This girl did not.
She could have refused. There were others beside the Alliance and Henry Lawson that would pay for her services. And backers without the same history.
Indira was well acquainted with Henry Lawson. Professionally, he was brilliant, a trailblazer in the field of bioengineering, turning magic into science with his abilities. But he was also ethically reprehensible, most of his experiments the result of shady practices and questionable intents. How he managed to get his thoughts past a review board, Indira had no idea. Henry's money worked just as many miracles as the man himself, she supposed.
On a personal level, she hated to be around him. He was controlling, smug, and utterly obsessed with perfection. There had been a time where she had forgiven him for it. She was young, she thought that there was something better lurking under his surface, something worth holding onto. There was nothing to him, only cowardice, selfishness, and a nature that consumed all around him, never satisfied with the simple pleasures the world had to offer, always wanting more.
To think she had almost married the man…nearly twenty years later, and it still made her stomach churn.
But when it boiled down to it, there was only one reason that she had accepted the contract. It wans't the money. It was the fact that if she didn't do this operation, someone else would. Someone less qualified than her. Someone that could make a mistake, and hurt the girl. Henry never settled for less than the best. When it came to medicine, to patient care, Indira had the same policy.
The shuttle set down soon enough, and the man in question came to greet her. Twenty years later, and he was still handsome, thick black hair only just beginning to grey, and crows feet only just beginning to gather at the corners of bright, intense, blue eyes.
"Indira." He held out his hand to shake hers. "A pleasure as always."
"Likewise." Indi lied, shaking his hand.
They took a stroll through the halls, and stepped into a room, Henry speaking to Indira, handing over charts and folders to the doctor, as another woman stood in the corner, observing. While Indira was dark-eyed and dark-skinned, this other woman was blonde and tanned, grey eyes focusing on Henry, carefully fathomless and clean, not a hint of feeling showing through. But every so often, there would a twitch—a slight narrowing of her eyes, the clench of her fingers, the outline of a tightened jaw, to allow her true feelings to show through.
Most people in the Alliance were familiar with the woman. Commander Shoshanah Katz.
Indira's husband, Marshall, had only been seriously injured during an N7 training seminar once. He had been partnered with Shoshanah.
The soldiers had the pressure of their punches tested that time. Even though Shoshanah couldn't have been more than a hundred and forty pounds, she was able to strike hard enough to pack about one thousand pounds of pressure into her hardest punch. Marshall himself had fallen behind her by only fifty pounds. So when it came time to spar, he had the good sense to move before she caught him in the chest. Instead, her fist connected with his arm, making him feel very much as though he had just been hit by a mack truck wearing a blonde wig. The shattered bones in his arms agreed.
Shoshanah Katz's reputation was well earned. She had been part of the surviving forces to report back from the Relay 314 incident. She had served with the ground forces on Shanxi, using guile and stealth to procure food and supplies for her fellow soldiers. And when the Batarians began to threaten the Skyllian verge, she came back from skirmishes, stained head to toe in Batarian blood.
Shoshanah was not a typical Alliance soldier. She was a relic from a time before the Alliance had formed, and swept all that had happened in Earth's Middle East under the rug. Most of the soldiers in the Alliance were unprepared for the single-minded determination of the Turians when First Contact hit, unable to understand why they were being targeted simply for exploring, simply for being different. Shoshanah hadn't batted an eyelash at the result. She had the teachings of thousands of years of persecution locked into her genetics. Of the tortures brought to life during the Spanish Inquisition, the rein of the Third Reich, and the conflicts in the Arab world. Long before mankind had discovered aliens, Shoshanah had been raised in a desert land, with people trained as soldiers not to invade, or protect, but to survive in a world that had been hostile to them for millennia. Aliens were merely one more group to defend against. This fight for territory, for survival, was nothing new to her.
She was feared, she was competent, and she was thought to be one of the best soldiers the Alliance had ever produced.
So why she was here with Henry Lawson, Indira could not fathom. Unless…her suspicions about the soldier were accurate.
But her thoughts were soon interrupted by the wealthy Dr. Lawson.
"That's all the information available." Henry was having a hard time keeping the pleased note out of his voice. Smarmy git, Kalika, her youngest, would have called him. And she would have been right.
"I see." Indira pushed her glasses up from the tip of her nose, back to the bridge. "And when do I get to meet this daughter of yours? You know that I have a habit of meeting my patients before opening them. There are things that may need to be said."
"I suppose that can be done." Henry frowned for a moment, before tapping his omnitool. "Miranda, come here. Your doctor wishes to speak to you."
A girl of fifteen appeared not long after. She was pale, the same porcelain shade that one would have found in the European noblewomen of old. Certainly a shade of pale that wouldn't have been possible with her father's coarse, peasant's tan. But that was not what struck Indira. What struck Indira was the girl's black hair, and bright blue eyes. She looked just like Aishi in that way.
But Aishi smiled when she met new people. This girl was nervous, as Sarisha sometimes was. This girl, however, was not looking at her feet, or trying to avoid Indira's gaze. She was sending nervous glances toward her father, searching his eyes for any hint of disproval.
Oh, Indira had heard rumors about Henry Lawson's children. Rumors of intolerable standards and gilded isolation, of nursery homes and asylums when his daughters did not please him.
She was reaching up to toy with the hem of her shirt. Aishi did the same thing when she nervous.
Oh God. No…he couldn't have…would he?
She'd never dreamed he would sink this low. When she'd gone into that clinic during her final year of med school, with only Marshall to hold her hand, she thought she'd done all she could to keep that child out of Henry's grasp. She was wrong.
"Miranda, is it?" Indira managed a kind smile, and offered her a hand. "I'm Dr. Patel. I understand that you and I are going to be working together later. Do you have any questions about the procedure?"
From the corner of the room, Shoshanah Katz shifted, something flashing through her eyes as she looked first at the girl, then at Henry.
"I assure you, she's researched it thoroughly." Henry spoke for the girl. "If she truly wished to accomplish herself, however, she'd convince Commander Katz to be her private tutor. Her martial skills could use some improvement. But where Miranda is concerned, plenty of things could be improved, in my opinion."
Both Indira and Miranda played with the hem of their blouses at that comment.
"And I'll give her the same answer I've given you, Mr. Lawson." Shoshanah's voice cracked like ice. "My skills, my services, my *body* are in the services on the Alliance. I'm not the sort that can be bought with money."
Henry cast a smile toward Shoshanah. "And that's part of what makes you so very…remarkable, young lady."
Shoshanah crossed her arms at the remark, squeezing down on her bicep to stop from clenching a fist.
Miranda straightened up, confidence drawing over her like a snug blanket, as she scowled at Shoshanah. "I seriously doubt that a woman who spends most of her time blustering about warfare in front of a camera has enough time left over to train. And if she does, then I doubt there's little she could teach me that I couldn't figure out on my own."
Fear crept through Indira at that moment. Shoshanah was on edge, and unhappy to be here. And Miranda was provoking her. Why would a girl so clever suddenly be so foolish? It was…it was exactly the sort of thing a fifteen-year-old girl would do.
But Shoshanah merely laughed at Miranda. "No, sweetheart. You can't. Sure, you can teach yourself form, and technique, but tell me this: When you think about throwing a punch, you just think about hitting the pad, right?"
She narrowed her gaze at Henry. "When I go to the gym, or I step into battle, I don't think about hitting pads. I don't even imagine hitting through pads. I imagine that pad is the head of someone that…that just doesn't sit well with me. Someone who took something from me. Someone I don't like very much. Someone that one day, I'm gonna have a chat with. And that chat is gonna end not with me hitting him, but with my fist going right through his chest, and grabbing a few organs for a keepsake. Think about that next time you train to fight, Princess."
Before Indira could reflexively snap at Shoshanah for speaking to Miranda as she had, Henry cleared his throat in an uncomfortable fashion, and let out an awkward chuckle, as Miranda rolled her eyes at Shoshanah.
Henry was still uncomfortable with physical violence, Indi noted. Good. He never liked it when someone suggested a conflict that he would lose, especially a martial one. Reminded him too much of how his father and those kids in his school would knock him around, she supposed.
"Well, Commander, as always you are…spirited. But I think that's enough for now." Henry nodded to Miranda. "Did you wish to speak to Dr. Patel? She is one of the best in her field. I suggest you do not waste this opportunity."
"Yes, father." Miranda quickly regained her poise, and nodded to Indi. "I have researched the procedure thoroughly, Dr. Patel. And I have looked into your record as well. I understand that you are accomplished for your field, but I have some questions. There is a six percent failure rate in your procedure. How do you plan to correct this?"
Despite herself, Indi smiled. Looking to improve. Good. In this matter, perfection, or something close, was ideal. Perhaps this girl would become a doctor herself…if she lived long enough. "Gene therapy will ideally take care of the issues surrounding some of the pre-existing conditions that enter into the surgery. But I imagine you've already looked into the theory around that, particularly the moral objections that some in the religious community have to the process. I'm afraid that isn't my field. The main method I'm concerned with is the implementation of a new implant. I believe that the dangers of the L2 outweigh the benefits in far too many cases. I would like to see an L3 produced. Very soon."
"Wouldn't a new implant merely lead to the same trouble?" Miranda asked immediately. "The body is not easily programmed to accept foreign visitors, as one often sees in the case of organ transplants. If biotics were simply regulated to the central nervous system, that would not be an issue. But biotics affect all nerve endings, and as such, may activate the immune system to target them. The implants today also interfere with brain chemistry, and cannot easily reverse some of the effects that follow. Who is to say that a new implant won't simply antagonize the processes at work even further? It's simply another piece of metal."
"You're correct." Indira nodded. "I'm afraid that I was taken from Serrice a bit earlier than expected, but personally, I do not believe that the answer lies in implants at all. Implants are merely a means to an end, for now."
Miranda's blue-grey eyes lit up. There was hunger in that gaze, a thirst for understanding that Indi knew all too well. "What do you propose in lieu of implants?"
"At this point in time, I don't know." Indi shrugged. "I'm afraid I haven't contemplated the matter enough. I'm a surgeon, Miranda. I spend more time thinking about how to use what I have, rather than to create what I don't have. What I'd like to see is an organic basis for biotics, as the Asari have. Implants would be rendered useless, and unnecessary, were humans predisposed to biotics. But that is not the case, and will not be, unless evolution plays—or is altered, more likely—in our favor. In the meantime, it would be very interesting if some clever engineer could figure out a way to harness organic materials, rather than synthetic, to serve as the basis for an implant. I think its an avenue to explore."
She smiled softly at Miranda, deciding to ask one of the thousands of questions that had been flooding her mind since first laying eyes on the girl. "Perhaps you could be that engineer. Are you interested in engineering as a career? What would you like to do with your life?"
Henry cleared his throat to interrupt, before Miranda could continue. "I think that's enough for now. Come, Miranda. It's time to prepare for your surgery."
When Henry and Miranda had left, Indi turned on Shoshanah. "I have some questions for you."
Now or never, she supposed. She hoped her suspicions were correct.
"And I went to a lot of trouble to procure that pack of information." Shoshanah retorted, gesturing to the folder in Indi's hands, and not stopping in her path to the exit. "You may as well read it."
"I know full and well that the Alliance did not grant you passage to Tuchanka." Indi's voice rang out, sharp and clear as a bell. "I suggest you listen to my words, Commander Katz. Or should I call you 'Operative'?"
That was enough to make Shoshanah turn, and glare at her. "If you cared to do anything about it, you would have reported me already. So what do you want?"
"You know about the girl, don't you? Miranda? How she was crafted by Henry Lawson, and a template of thousands of women across the known galaxy." Seeing something simmer low in those grey eyes, Indi commented, "I'm not the only one he stole from, am I?"
"No. You're not." Shoshanah growled. "What of it?"
"I have children. A husband. People in my life that would certainly face Henry's wrath if I ever tried to intervene for Miranda. I don't have a black-ops group to protect them." Indira gave her a hard stare. "But you…you have the backing of a man that can fool the Commandos, STG, and even Corsairs, like my husband. Why don't you take that poor girl away from this place?"
"Why should I care about the little shit?" Shoshanah snapped, vitriol finally breaking through.
Stunned, outraged even, Indi found herself losing the cool posture she'd tried to maintain, and shouting right back, "Because she is your child, Shoshanah! Just as she is mine!"
"She's not my child. Henry stole any choice in that matter." Shoshanah snapped. "If you have a husband and children, then it sounds as though he didn't bother to harvest all your eggs in a med lab, while you were fifteen and had no idea what to expect of your first papsmear. What the hell are you complaining about?"
A sneer crossed her lips. "Why the hell do you care so much about the damn kid you paid money to have ripped from your belly all those years back? You're not the only one who knows things, Indira."
Something sharp lodged in Indi's chest at that moment. A hot blush threatened to crawl up her dark cheeks, and her mind was clouded with the same murky, uncomfortable sensation, the one that always arrived when she thought back to her choices. She thought she loved Henry Lawson at one point. She believed she was doing the right thing when she left him, when she took the child away. She was fresh out of med school. She had no resources, no ability to keep that child safe from him. The baby never would have been good enough for him. And Henry tossed away things that were not good enough for him. She knew this. She couldn't allow a child to face that kind of life. But the doubts still lingered. Still crowded the wide expanses of her mind. Had she made the right choice? A different fiancé, three new children later…could there have been a place for another daughter in that family, if she had just tried?
Those were thoughts for another time. And certainly not ones to be shared with Shoshanah Katz.
"I did that, because I wasn't about to sentence her to a life under Henry Lawson's thumb! And here she is anyway. And so, it is my duty, as her mother, to get her away from him!"
"I have a duty to humanity as a whole. That little girl is nothing to me." Shoshanah turned, but Indira's voice broke her steps.
"And what if it was Hannah in this situation?"
"Don't bring my sister into this." Shoshanah hissed.
"Your sister is already part of this." Indi glowered at the soldier. "I know what Cerberus has been doing to those children. The ones that have disappeared from med labs without so much as a trace. Better for them to have died on operating table, as you told their parents, then to be subjected to the experiments I hear about. Is that what you hope for Hannah one day? She's showing biotic potential."
"Hannah will be with me!" Shoshanah snarled in response. "And if you even think of-"
"If what, Shoshanah? You're going right into Skyllian Verge in days. The Alliance says it's a routine patrol, but I know better. I know that you don't need that much starship fuel, or medical supplies, for a routine patrol. You're going into the Hegemony. Do you suppose you're coming back from this assignment alive? You think Jack Harper will swoop in to rescue you?"
Shoshanah was quiet for a long moment, and Indi shook her head. "I know you've left Hannah things. Ways to take care of herself, if all else fails. But what about Miranda? Doesn't she deserve some protection from her mother?"
The soldier gritted her teeth and clenched her fist, clearly ready to throw one of those 1K punches someone's way. "She is NOT my family! Hannah is the only one left!"
"And Hannah could be in some trouble, couldn't she? I was called in to work with those exposed to the explosion at Havana base. You're stationed there, and Hannah is living nearby, is she not? I saw her in a med bay not two days ago. Her scans are excellent, but her neurological activity has spiked tremendously. I think we both know what that means."
The doctor spoke softly. "You can leave her food, money, tuition for an education, a priceless family name for the military. You can even get Cerberus to treat her as a recruit, rather than a test subject. But you cannot control the grasp of the Alliance. They will find her, they will send her straight out to Jump Zero, and they will cut open her skull, and place a little square of metal at the base of her cerebellum. If they do it right, she'll be a marvel. The very example of the wonderful humanity you and Mr. Harper are working so hard to save. If they do it wrong, then there's migraines, crippling pain, insanity, Celiac's Disease, Parkinsons, Alzheimers, hemorrhaging, other forms of brain damage, death. All manner of things that will show up as side effects in her medical records, and tragedies in her obituary."
Indi took a step forward. "You have a soldier's duty, Shoshanah. Your duty is to take orders and protect the people around you. I have a similar duty. I am charged with protecting those that seek healing from me. But I am also a mother, and with that, comes a surprising level of selfishness, when desperate. You are making me desperate, Shoshanah. And I shall do the same to you. So understand, that no matter if you live or die, I am THE best surgeon for biotics in this galaxy. Its why I'm here today, giving Miranda her biotics. One day, Hannah will be under the knife of either a mediocre surgeon, a skilled surgeon, or one of the best living. I am one of the best living, Shoshanah.
She narrowed cold, dark eyes at Shoshanah's cloudy grey. "If you leave today, and tell Jack Harper about Miranda, about special she is, what a wonderful asset she could be to Cerberus, if she were taken away from her father, then the day that Hannah visits my OR will be an excellent one. But if you leave, and think nothing of Miranda Lawson again, Hippocratic Oath be damned, my knife will slip when Hannah Katz comes into my care."
"You're lying." Shoshanah's face was calm, but her voice beleaguered with tension.
"Are you willing to take that chance?"
"The Illusive Man already knows, and has plans, for Miranda Lawson. Rest assured, they're not in the vein of test subject—though I certainly suggested it." The soldier's voice was thick with venom. "She could be one of our best recruits in a year's time."
Those grey eyes locked right onto those deep brown ones. "And rest assured, I won't forget about this, Dr. Patel. And I won't be as gentle as you when its *my* knife hanging over *your* head."
"Unlikely. I'm too valuable to you." Indi met her gaze with an even stare. "You do an excellent job of playing the angry, vengeful child of First Contact. You do an excellent job of playing a muscle-bound Alliance loyalist. Their best one, I suspect, if the years are kind to you. No one's even noticed that your work has allowed for the entire media network of the galaxy to be infiltrated by Cerberus agent. That every interview you've done has been a chance to gauge the reactions of every reporter, to see who could be recruited, or replaced—by another name, or someone wearing their own. That you have personally insisted on delivering the dogtags, medicards, and identitags of every soldier, doctor, and civilian that has ever served under your command, to their families. Why, I'll bet you even gave the order for that poor boy on the SSV Geneva to give the name 'Cerberus', especially after the front-runner for the Alliance's Prime Minister just lost her credibility. I'm sure recruitment numbers are record high, now that you've spun the tale of the incompetent Alliance, and the daring Cerberus forces."
Indi shook her head. "You're cunning, but you can't conceal all that keen, tactical thinking behind knives and guns and fists. Tactically speaking, I'm far too valuable for you to do away with. And the probability of you striking out of revenge, when said person could be useful to you, is about 0.0311125346. Statistically insignificant."
"Did you just calculate the probability of that in your head?"
"I calculated it about five minutes ago, when I told you what I was willing to do to procure Miranda's safety."
"Huh. How do you know all this, anyway?"
"A lot of it, I didn't." Indi shrugged. "Most it, you just confirmed. People say a lot of things they shouldn't when they're on pain killers."
A smirk crossed the commander's face, despite herself. "I suppose I should be grateful its your brains lodged in my body, and not Henry's. If that kid is half as good a liar as you, or me, she might just make something of herself. At the very least, she'll survive Henry's idea of parenting."
Shoshanah paused for a moment, then stepped forward. Indira stood her ground, ready to brace herself for an attack. But instead, Shoshanah stepped toward her hip, pivoting to take a peek around her shoulders.
"What are you doing?"
"She has your hair, and your lips. My arms and legs, and shoulders. And abs." Shoshanah quirked a brow at Indira's backside. "There are other…parts…that she certainly didn't get from me."
"Oh." Indi blinked. "I was wondering about that too. No, Henry certainly did not copy my posterior when he composed Miranda."
Both women blinked for a moment.
"Any idea why-"
"Not a clue."
"Huh."
"Honestly, I'm more curious about why she's white."
"Seems to go hand in hand with the fanatical idea of genetic perfection, if history has taught us anything."
"I would have gone with a nice tan, myself. Something ambiguous."
"And more practical, for that matter."
"True. This is Australia. I can't believe the girl isn't the color of a raw steak."
"Her father probably doesn't let her get out much."
The two women were quiet for another moment, before Shoshanah scowled, and declared, "I believe we're done here, Dr. Patel."
Shoshanah was calm as she left. Shoshanah was calm as she passed the patient's ward, and watched the girl with the blue-grey eyes watch her leave. She was calm as Henry's guards saluted her on her way back to her shuttle.
She was calm until the door clicked shut, and she clenched her fingers, snarling in rage as she slammed her fist into the wall, scattering chips of paint and plaster on the floor, while bruises formed fresh her skin.
She didn't want this. That girl…she wasn't supposed to exist. Shoshanah had lost a father to the desert's violence, before the Alliance had formed. Her mother had died from Turian gunfire on Shanxi. Her only sister was in trouble, she knew that. Jack would look after her if anything happened. She had to believe this. She had given Jack everything, ever since Shanxi. Her dedication, her loyalty, her life, her love, her body…the only thing she couldn't give him was a child. That choice had been taken from her, and warped into something worse.
That girl was nothing. She was scraps. Take Mona Lisa's smile, The Scream's hands, The Girl's pearl earrings, pluck the stars from Van Gogh's Night, and one would not produce a masterpiece. Put all the pieces together, and it would be nothing more than a shade of what it was meant to be. A cracked mirror. She was not special. She was no ubermensch.
She was not Shoshanah's child. And she'd kill Henry Lawson for this, if she lived long enough to do it.
Indi was calm as well. She was calm leaving the room, and heading toward her OR. She was calm as she changed into her scrubs. She was calm as she looked at her surgical mask, and surgical cap. She was calm until she looked up briefly, and caught sight of the tools at her disposal. The scalpel neatly laid out at her work station.
Hot, salty tears splashed down her dark cheeks, smearing her mascara and splashing into the the sink below. She stayed like this for a few moments, letting the tears splash against the cool metal of the washbasin, until she collected her senses, clearing her throat and straightening up, as she continued her sanitization ritual.
This little girl was not going to die under Henry Lawson's impossible standards. She would suffer, yes. But only for a little longer. Indi was not foolish. Miranda would be protected soon enough, but she would never live an easy life. It would be one haunted by shadows and danger, by the fear of retribution and the difficulties of a wounded dove thrust from a gilded cage into a hostile world. But it would be Miranda's life to live as she chose. And for now…perhaps that was enough. Perhaps she should have tried to offer her that choice from the beginning. But thinking like that did nothing. For now, she was doing the best that she could do for her…daughter.
