Note: Bioware owns everything except the plot. Can somewhat fit into the universe of Blood from a Stone, but can be read as a standalone. Scribbled out of sheer avoidance of writing my longer fics, so forgive me. Unbetaed.
She's planned all of this accordingly. Perfectly, really, considering everything about her is designed to be that way.
When Father leaves Australia to go on his various business trips, he always takes her with him. To show her off, mostly, but also because he knows she's almost to her boiling point, the murmurs of discontent becoming the icy barbs directed at him daily: he knows she can't be left alone.
Her father's men are dispatched easily, courtesy of her sharpshooting and biotics. They're good at what they do: they're strong, burly, and have powers of their own.
But Miranda's infinitely better.
So she escapes, with little Ori in her arms, running through the streets of New York. It's still a grid system, as it has been for two hundred years, so Miranda can navigate it easily once she figures out where she's headed. Their hotel is on Park Avenue, naturally – if she can get to the transport hub fifteen blocks south, she can get passage to Canada, where she knows it will be more difficult for father to find her. Then, thanks to Niket, she can meet her Cerberus contact, and finally, finally get off-world and away from James Lawson.
Miranda's wary of Cerberus. The organization's financial dealings with Father alone are enough to give her pause. But she can offer more than money for her little sister's protection and her safeguarding: she can offer them her servitude, providing her superior intelligence and skills. She can offer them her allegiance, not to mention her endorsement and example: she's practically a poster child for everything Cerberus stands for anyway.
She's planned all of this accordingly, yes. But what she hasn't planned on is a group of teenagers ambushing her in an alley when she gets a little bit lost.
"I haven't got any money," she insists, clutching the whimpering Oriana, who is viciously sucking her thumb, to her chest. Her gun is hidden, and her biotics are in check. She doesn't want to hurt kids, but she also doesn't want to waste time, if she even has any left.
The oldest boy there can't be more than sixteen. But the malicious smirk on his face is beyond his years when he says, "Well, that's all right. But where's a pretty girl like you running off to so fast? Ain't from around here, either, are you?" He asks, the question in a poor imitation of her accent.
"I don't have time for this," she huffs, impatient and unafraid of these boys. Father's men, however, could be coming after her right now.
The boys all grin wider, circling like a pack of wolves. Miranda's arm behind her back, the one not holding onto Oriana, begins to glow blue, ready to strike, when a girl's voice breaks the silence.
"Billy, there are you are! Been looking for you. " She drops down from a fire escape, landing easily on her feet. "What are you-?" Dusky blue eyes narrow in suspicion when she takes in the scene in front of her.
"Randa," sniffles Ori in her arms, and Miranda tucks her chin protectively over Oriana's head, squeezing the baby tighter.
"The fuck are you doing?" snarls the girl, crossing wiry arms over her chest, and the group of burly boys actually look afraid. A stark contrast to their previous swelled-chest bravado, the way they practically cower in the presence of the girl – who is thin and at least a head shorter than the smallest boy – would almost be laughable if Miranda didn't have other things on her mind: things like the gurgling Oriana in her arms, the pressing nature of her need to escape.
The boy of sixteen shrinks back a little as the dark haired girl approaches him and gets in his face. "Just having some fun, Dee. Harmless."
"Doesn't look harmless to me," she retorts, circling him. The predator had become the prey, quite evident as the supposed leader of the pack keeps his eyes glued to the ground in submission. "I told you I wasn't up for this shit. No women, no kids, and especially not for no damn reason," she rumbles.
"But—" he protests, stumbling away. Her steely eyes harden, and Billy hesitates.
She's younger than he is, but she grabs his throat easily and his boys quickly back away. "Leave," she says, shoving him again until he lands straight on his ass. "I'd hate to have to apologize to your brother for your fuck-ups again." The threat is clear, and he scrambles to his feet. Signaling to the boys, Billy runs off in fear, but not before shooting an angry glance back at the girl.
"You alright?" The girl asks, strolling over to Miranda with the confidence of someone much older than she is. Her hair is wild and tangled, her clothes ragged and face gaunt, but she wears all of it pretty well. "Billy's not so bad. Dumb, but not bad."
Miranda nods hurriedly. "Please, I've got to go, I—"
"On the run, huh?" interrupts the girl. Miranda hesitates, ever cautious and distrustful. "Heya, kiddo," the girl smiles, addressing Oriana, who hums a little happily at the attention. She looks back at Miranda, noting her caution and holding her hands up in a conciliatory fashion. "I can tell. You've got that 'oh-shit-running-from-the-cops' look we sport a lot around these parts."
"I need to get to the transport hub," says Miranda firmly, the wail of police sirens in the distance putting her on edge. "I'm in a hurry, so could you tell me—"
The girl smiles knowingly. "I'll do more than that. Have an easier time of it if you take the shortcuts. Won't call attention to you either. C'mon, I'll show you."
She heads off in the direction opposite of where Miranda was heading, and she's hesitant again, but something in the girl's eyes make her believe her just a little bit.
The girl rolls her eyes a little, but a small smile takes the edge out of it. "You don't have a reason to, but trust me, alright? Know this city like the back of my hand, uh…" she trails off, prompting Miranda.
Obviously Miranda knows not to give her real name, because who knows if Father will find this girl and pay her off for information or something later. She falters, then thinks of Niket. "My friends call me Miri."
"Right. Miri," she nods, turning and starting a quick pace towards a back alley. "My friends call me Dee."
.
.
.
Surprisingly enough, Dee ends up being honest, and they arrive at the transport hub faster than Miranda expected. She still needs tickets, however, and considering Father had probably put out an alert for her already…Miranda sighs and bites a nail, Oriana's weight seemingly getting heavier and heavier by the moment.
Dee also ends up being quite perceptive too. She watches Miranda glance nervously at the ticket station for a moment before grabbing her free arm and dragging her off to the side. "Come on. I know a guy."
Miranda's smart. Miranda's crafty. But the way the girl weaves in and out of the crowd, dodging and darting, hints at far more street smarts than Miranda could ever hope to gain. She mutely curses the veritable prison her father built for her from birth, thinks of how he plans on doing to the same to Oriana, and muffles a grunt as she elbows past someone especially hard.
Like a hawk, Dee hones in on her target, and suddenly the three girls are sidled up to a rather shady looking young human man.
"Colm," Dee greets. "I need two. Out of the country."
"Just Canada," reminds Miranda. "Less customs restrictions and less attention. I'll take it from there."
"You heard the lady," Dee says, smirking and looking expectantly at her colleague. "Two for the northern border."
"Two?" he grumbles. "Dee, you're breaking my balls here."
"Hard times, Colm?" Dee asks, examining her fingernails. "I remember when you used to be able to get me passage anywhere I wanted, anytime. I could practically fly off-world on a government ship. But if you're starting to…lose your edge, per se, I suppose that's understandable."
Poking viciously at a well-used datapad, he grumbles, "Lose my fuckin' edge, you've got to be kidding me."
Dee grins: she's played him like a harp. "We good?"
With one last final beep, the datapad flashes once. "Should be in your omni-tool. And you won't have any problems," he says, addressing Miranda. Turning towards Dee with a scowl, he mutters, "There'd better be an extra Hallex in it for my troubles this time, little Dar-Dar."
"Call me that again and you'll be getting more than a Hallex from me," she threatens, before heartily slapping him on the shoulder and beckoning towards Miranda. "C'mon. Your wheel-less, horseless chariot awaits."
They walk at a brisk pace, Dee flowing past the crowds like water. Miranda struggles to keep up and to keep from jostling Oriana too much in the process.
"Is she…yours?" Dee asks above the din of the transport hub.
For a second, Miranda must look horrified, because Dee laughs a little at her expression. "She's my…sister," Miranda explains. Identically genetic twin slash clone seemed a little too verbose.
"Huh," Dee grunts to herself. "So…not your husband. Boyfriend maybe?" she muses.
"What are you talking about?"
Dee shrugs. "Pretty girl on the run with a kid. I can think of a few explanations on the top of my head. The world isn't nice to women."
"The world isn't nice to anyone," Miranda replies bitterly after a moment of contemplating, she thinks I'm pretty? "And I thought you said no questions."
The self-deprecating smirk is becoming all too familiar. "True." However, her expression darkens a little before admitting softly, "Listen. Whatever it is – and I'm not gonna ask – or maybe…whoever it is…I know some people. Ones that could maybe…handle your problem, if you catch my drift."
A petty group of thugs and gang members 'handling' James Lawson, corporate tycoon and all-around rich asshole with tons of connections. Miranda has to smile at the thought. "You seem to know a lot of people."
"I'm pretty popular, what can I say."
"I appreciate the offer," Miranda says, pace quickening as they near the train. "But I'm sure you've got smaller fish to fry."
Offended, Dee scowls. "The Reds have got the biggest frying pan that I know of."
Miranda almost stops in her tracks. "The Tenth Street Reds?" she squawks. Next thing she knew, Dee would be telling her she was a Mafioso Don or something. Dabbling with a member of a notorious, brutal gang was stupid enough, but to do so unknowingly with her baby sister in tow? "Damn it, what'd I get myself into?"
"Hey, hey," Dee interrupts, reassuring. "Consider me off-duty. Relax."
"I didn't realize gang members had shifts," Miranda retorts dryly. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?"
"Whoa," came the startled reply. "I'm not the bad guy here."
"Is it money? I told your little friends I didn't have any. If you think that I'm going to be indebted to some run-amok, anti-alien group of thugs and smugglers-"
Grabbing at Miranda's free arm, Dee hisses, "Would you fucking relax?" Oriana's lip begins to quiver, the oncoming wail of a child's cry imminent. "Shhh," she whispers. "I thought you were trying not to get caught here. Shouting kind of doesn't fucking help."
Miranda just glares.
Dee sighs. "I know we haven't got the best reputation and some of us really are bad to the bone. But I'm not. You don't have a reason to trust me, sure. But I'm just trying to help you, and that's all I've done so far."
Miranda hesitates, feeling a modicum of guilt in the face of the girl's logic. "I…I suppose you're right."
"I'm always right," Dee replies easily. "Look," she says, pointing. "Your train is here. You need to get going."
"I'm…" Miranda searches for words, grimacing as Oriana blissfully chews on the ends of her hair. "I…apologize for jumping to conclusions, but you must understand –"
"I do. Believe it or not, but it wasn't exactly my first career choice, y'know?" Dee laughs a little self-consciously, rubbing at her neck. "Just don't judge a book by its cover maybe. Or a gang member by her affiliation, I suppose."
Miranda's lips quirk in a small smile, a strange feeling blossoming within her chest; it grows and expands until her chest almost hurts, and suddenly, the blare of a warning train whistle sounds and a shout for 'all aboard!' arises, smothering the feeling into nothingness. "We need to go. Listen, if my father or his men will come looking for me, don't –"
"Father! I should've guessed that," Dee snaps her fingers. "Drat. And don't worry, princess—" Surprisingly, Miranda doesn't wince; Father calls her that in the most condescending of ways, but when Dee says it, it's almost a little…charming? – "Your secrets are safe with me."
Eyes darting nervously between dusky blue eyes and the train, Miranda finally heaves a deep breath and readjusts Oriana's weight in her arms. "I…don't know how to thank you, how I'll ever repay you-"
"Eh," Dee shrugs. "Save my life one day too and we'll call it even," she teases.
"You didn't help that much," smiles Miranda until the final boarding call resounds throughout the hub one last time. "Thank you," she says, hesitantly and awkwardly holding out a hand like Father always does. Dee just laughs and shakes her hand, her grip strong and sure.
"Goodbye, Miri," she says solemnly, before making a goofy face at Oriana. "Bye kiddo."
"Dar-dar!" Ori chirps happily, drawing a confused frown from Dee before Miranda nods once and turns to leave.
Only after she's safely made it onto the train without any problems or any recognition does Miranda look out of the window, Oriana resting gently in her lap. For one moment, Miranda swears she could still see Dee watching the two of them, but when she blinks, the girl is gone.
Much, much later, when several years pass and nothing is the same, when Miranda hears talk and sees photographs of the famous Commander Darby Shepard, when itchy, inexplicable familiarity tingles at the base of her neck, when she spends two years staring at this pile of meat and tubes become a person once again and recognition finally strikes like lightning…the girl reappears, this time, back from the dead.
"…What…who…?" comes the groggy grumble, blue eyes blurred. A strangely familiar face comes into view, one of the last faces she ever expected to see, because damn, what a coincidence that would be. It just couldn't be…."M…Miri?" she murmurs.
A hand grabs hers, one that is larger and stronger than she remembers. "Miri?" she mumbles again nonsensically.
"Try to relax, Commander," says the voice, familiar and so different.
"…My friends…call me Dee."
The hand lets go, only to brush sweaty dark bangs away from her brow. "I know," comes Miri's whisper, and with that reassurance, she succumbs to the heaviness of her eyelids and falls fast asleep, right after mumbling words she thought she only said in her mind:
"Call it even, Miri…"
Miranda watches her fall back asleep, smiling softly all the while.