A/N: The world of Mass Effect, its characters, and creations belong to Bioware. I'm only having some fun and taking some liberties with its characters and plot.

I want to thank all of the support and encouragement that "I will Rise" received. It made the decision to write this sequel an easy one.

We will Rise

By Spectre4hire

Prologue

Beep…Beep…Beep

Miranda groaned in frustration at the incessant noise that had penetrated her peaceful slumber. She was inclined to ignore the annoying sound as she readjusted herself in her bed, turning on her back, hugging the covers to her body as she did so.

Beep…Beep…Beep

Miranda growled, but any curse that she was about to utter died on her tongue as she caught the pattern in the ring.

This was no ordinary call. This was something important.

She immediately pushed herself up, throwing the covers to her side as she blinked in the darkness of her bedroom, allowing her eyes to adjust to the absence of light.

She cursed her tired nature in not noticing how important the particle ring pattern had been. She immediately went to her Omni-Tool, the source of the noise, and quickly typed in the access code to accept the call.

As she waited for the call to be transferred through, she wiped the sleep out of her eyes.

"Miss Lawson, am I interrupting something?"

It was the voice of the Illusive Man.

"No, sir," she quickly answered, now more frustrated in herself for her delay in answering the call. She chose not to respond to what her superior was insinuating.

"Good, because I have an assignment for you-"

She could hear him exhale as he paused, knowing that he was smoking. She remained silent, waiting for him to finish.

"I've have been given some unfortunate news."

"What news?" Miranda asked, wondering what could be so important that it could not wait until the morning.

"It's about Commander Shepard."

Another pause, there was no sound of him exhaling to allow himself a smoke. This pause was deliberate. The mention of Shepard's name felt like an injection of adrenaline into Miranda, she instantly awoke, losing any thought or interest in sleep. Any tiredness that she had felt had been replaced by a jolt of energy and growing curiosity.

"He's dead," the Illusive man finished, his voice perfectly controlled as he delivered the depressing news.

"What?" Miranda all but gasped. She was too shocked at the news, to mentally scold herself for her emotional response.

She shook her head, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't, not Shepard.

The images of her and him together on the Citadel began floating to the forefront of her mind. His smile, his touch, his voice, while they shared intimate moments together, he stirred something within Miranda that she had never felt before for another person.

She then was haunted by their last encounter, remembering his confidence in assuring her that he wouldn't allow any geth to kill him. It was now a twist of the knife already embedded into her.

"It can't be," she challenged, finding her throat dry.

"This comes from top Alliance Brass, Miss Lawson," answered the Illusive man, un-phased by her disbelief. "They are trying to cover it up. Naturally, they don't want word to get out about the circumstances of his death."

"Circumstances?" she repeated, unsure why the Alliance would be fearful of alerting the populace that he was killed by geth troopers.

"Yes, it seems that he was attacked by an unidentified ship. The Normandy was destroyed and there were more than twenty casualties."

Miranda couldn't breathe.

She felt numb. She could feel her chest tightening, an aching pain behind her ribs. This couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. Shepard couldn't be dead. He promised that he would come back to her. The image of them sharing their last passionate moments together alone in the elevator, which had served as a reminder of his feelings for her, were now nothing short of mocking her at the fate of the man she cared for.

Damn you, John, she mentally cursed, not caring how selfish or juvenile she sounded in the solitude of her room. It was in that moment; in the dark that Miranda could feel a warm tear trickle down her cheek. She instantly dabbed at the tear with her thumb, not allowing herself to break down.

She took a deep breath, controlling her emotions, and her breathing, before she allowed herself to speak again in her usual cool and controlled voice.

"What does this have to do with my assignment?"

"Everything, Miss Lawson," he answered. "Shepard is too important to be lost. The galaxy needs him if we are to stop the Reapers."

Miranda was unsure what her superior's thought process was leading to. He was speaking as if Shepard was injured or was being held hostage. He spoke as if there was hope in saving him. But there couldn't be. Shepard was dead.

The Illusive man's next words broke Miranda out of her painful reverie. "His body is missing."

"You want me to retrieve his body?"she asked, feeling another stab of pain in her chest at the thought of someone stealing Shepard's body.

She wasn't naïve or a fool. She knew something like Shepard's body would be worth a fortune to some people in the galaxy. Serving as a trophy to a man's vanity, the ultimate collection piece to the wealthy elite. It was also a piece of history, the body of the most important man in the last fifty years. To some he was the most important man in centuries.

It was a sick revelation, but Miranda was sure that there were many perverse people in the galaxy, and there were many who still held grudges against the Commander.

She knew the Batarian Hegemony would probably pay top dollar to be able to parade the body of the human who had defeated them on countless occasions through their streets.

"That is part of your assignment."

"Part?" asked a confused Miranda, unsure how the assignment couldn't be finished after retrieving the body.

"I'm sending you your assignment now, Miss Lawson. This is our top priority. We cannot lose Shepard!"

We already lost him; the thought brought a cold numbness to her chest. I lost him, she corrected herself, feeling the burning of tears swelling in her eyes at the painful reminder.

A soft beep from her Omni-Tool alerted her that her assignment had been successfully downloaded. She immediately called it up, her eyes widening when she read the opening crawl.

Project Lazarus- The Resurrection of Commander Shepard.

"Sir, this must be a mistake?" she asked, unsure if she could believe her eyes. It had to be a mistake, a trick played by her imagination which foolishly gripped onto the hope that he truly wasn't gone.

"There is no mistake, Miss Lawson," he answered. There was a soft click, signaling that he had hung up.

The orange glow of her Omni-Tool was the only light in the darkness of her room. She continued to stare at the assignment and what was expected of her and what she was supposed to accomplish.

It seemed like a bad joke. How could someone ask of her this? How could this be completed? She had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream, surely this couldn't be real. Shepard dying, her assignment to rebuild him, surely this was all a complex dream based off her own fears and insecurity about her relationship with Shepard which was being fed by her own subconscious.

And yet there she continued to sit in the dark, her eyes shifting to the empty space on her bed. She almost expected to see Shepard sleeping soundly beside her.

The realization hit her like a sinking stone. Not only was the man she grew to care for dead, but it was up to her to do the impossible. It fell on her to create life.

She had to bring him back to life.


Miranda was going to be sick.

She felt the burning taste of bile creep up her throat as she looked down at the body of Shepard. No, a body was too kind of a word to describe what she was looking at.

This was a slab of meat, muscles, and bones mixed and thrown together like putty by a poorly talented artist who had no knowledge or information on human anatomy. An attempt or depiction of what the artist believed a human body was supposed to look like.

Only the silhouette of the form resembled anything human. She immediately turned away from the gruesome sight, taking a deep breath as she tried to will the bile back down.

This couldn't be Shepard, she thought. She couldn't see the sinewy muscles of his chest, the strong arms, his dark hair, calloused hands, broad shoulders, or his mesmerizing blue eyes.

This was supposed to be the man she grew to care for, but all she could see was a slab of meat, which looked more appropriate at a butcher's shop.

She had assured Liara, that she could rebuild him. That she could do what had never been accomplished. That she could bring him back to life. That she could play God.

It had been a few days since she had been awakened by the Illusive man. It was a call which changed and reshaped her life. Seeing Shepard's body for the first time since she got the news from the Illusive man, just seeing the body solidified the cold realization that he was dead.

She was now on a frigate bound to the new prototype space station that the Illusive man had prepared to house the Lazarus project.

She left the cargo bay after ordering the personnel to properly store Shepard's body for the travel. She couldn't stay in the same room with his…corpse. Not now, she had too much to do.

She retreated to the sanctity of her cabin. Where data-pads and numerous files lay scattered across her desk, all of them pertaining information on either Shepard or the ambitious project she was overseeing. His medical history, a detailed account of what needed to be done, a list of items and supplies that she had requested or that had already been delivered.

As she sat down behind her chair, looking at all of the information in front of her, she took a deep breath as her mind reminded her of the gruesome state that his body was in.

She rubbed her eyes, the image of his body ingrained into her mind. She was finding it difficult not to feel the cold strumming from within as her thoughts drifted towards him and his fate.

Focus, she chided herself. She realized that the only way that she could possibly succeed in this project was to distance herself from her memories of Shepard. She needed to detach her emotional interest in him, prune the memories and feelings she had for him.

She needed to be able to look at his decomposing body without pain or nausea. She needed to be professional; she needed to approach this project as if she was rebuilding a stranger, and not a lover. She needed to bury her past with him if she wanted to rebuild his future.

She realized that the task before her should have been insurmountable. She wasn't worried, she was determined. After all Miranda Lawson did enjoy a good challenge and this was something so much more than anything else that she had undertaken during her time with Cerberus.

This was personal.

She went to her terminal, wanting to record every process of this ambitious project. She clicked the record button, beginning the first entry.

"Commander Shepard has been recovered. The Lazarus Project can begin."


He had awoken!

What was supposed to be an achievement, something worth celebrating had become a near disaster, nearly costing them everything.

Miranda was now alone in her room, excusing herself after the ordeal. She was sitting behind her desk, preparing to send her latest report to the Illusive Man. She would make sure to highlight the numerous mistakes that Wilson had made in hopes that he would be terminated from the project.

She brought her fingers to her temple in a gentle massage pattern, hoping it would melt away the stress and frustration that was building up.

The incident was still vivid in her mind, and she was unsure if she would ever forget those precious few seconds.

Shepard had awakened prematurely!

She still couldn't believe the feat that had just been accomplished. Closing her own eyes, she could remember his blue eyes fluttering open. She noticed the fear, the pain, and the confusion shimmering beneath those blue pools.

His body thrashing on the medical table resembling a fish flailing on the ground after being taken out of water. His arms and legs were still mostly bone and muscle with little to no flesh to cover the exposed limbs. His body was attached to numerous tubes, medical devices, and other instruments, monitoring his condition and slow steady improvement.

He had reacted too strongly to the dosage. It had been one mistake which could have undone countless hours and countless credits worth of research and work.

Thankfully, Miranda Lawson was quick on her feet. She immediately corrected the dosage, even though she was practically foiled by the deadweight known as Wilson.

She had gone to comfort her lover, fearful that if he did not calm down, then instead of returning to an induced coma, he would die of exposure. Since his body was unable to support itself in its current state.

She could remember when she called out his name, at how his body momentarily froze, either in confusion or surprise, Miranda didn't know.

She could still remember the fraction of a second when their eyes met, feeling a surge of electricity go up her spine.

She had forgotten just how blue and ensnaring his eyes had been. She had felt a quick flutter of her stomach before he broke contact, closing his eyes as the medicine took effect.

She let loose the breath she had been holding in that enthralling moment.

After letting loose a verbal tirade, not holding back punches as she dug into Wilson's mistakes and carelessness which nearly doomed the project and ruined any chances of saving Shepard, she had retired to her room.

It had been a dangerous, reckless moment, as she thought about the incident. And yet she allowed herself, a small but very satisfying smile at what she had accomplished. She had taken the first steps in bringing a person back to life.

It was a historic moment. It was a miracle in modern medicine.

Shepard who had been dead for more than a year had regained consciousness, no matter how brief it had been. The impossible had been done.

When that moment of satisfaction left Miranda, she was left with only frustration and annoyance which she directed at Wilson. His carelessness had nearly undone all of the hard work that she and countless others had put into this project.

"The fool!" she hissed, before allowing her anger to slowly dissipate, reminding herself that there were proper channels to vent her anger.

She would not spare a single detail on how Wilson had nearly undone everything in her report to the Illusive man.

She allowed herself a smug smile, in the growing hope that this mistake may be the mistake that could finally allow her to fire Wilson and replace him with someone a bit more competent and trustworthy.

She couldn't stop herself from being impressed at the ability of not only Shepard awakening, but the fact that the exposure or the trauma that he awoke to hadn't killed him. That was a miracle in its own right. She was afraid that she would lose him a second time into the unknown abyss known as death.

To see him slip into death after so much time and work had been invested into bringing him back to life, she wasn't sure if such pain or disappointment could be accurately measured or expressed at the failure that would have been.

She pushed out the dreadful thoughts and what ifs from her mind, before dropping her fingers from her temple and returning them to the terminal keyboard. So that she could finish typing up her report.

They were still months away from finally being able to awake Shepard, but they were on the right path. Even after today's accident, it confirmed their progress and just how far they had come. But they weren't there yet.

She closed her eyes, reminding herself of the moment when their eyes met. "Hold on, Shepard," wanting to remember the deep color of his blue eyes.


"That bastard!" cursed Miranda, crouching behind a row of storage crates as marching LOKI mechs advanced on her.

In a matter of minutes all of Lazarus station was being besieged by mechs! Their own mechs!

Miranda slapped a new clip into her pistol before carefully poking her head up to see the advancing mechs, who immediately opened fire. She slid back down to avoid the barrage of bullets.

"I'm going to kill him!" she snarled, gritting her teeth, and taking a deep breath, she called on her biotics. Her body illuminating with the blue energy, she stood from her position, assaulting the two nearest mechs with a devastating biotic warp.

She continued her assault, by unloading her pistol into the last two mechs, destroying the two mechanical nuisances in seconds. When the last one fell, she holstered her pistol and let out a breath. The biotic energy that she had summoned to handle the mechs, evaporated with a soft crack.

The station had been shut down and emergency protocols had been activated. She surveyed the damage in the cargo bay, frowning when she came across a few of the Cerberus personnel who had been caught in the crossfire.

This was an inside job. Someone was deliberately trying to sabotage not only the research but their project as well as destroying all evidence. As soon as the alarms had blared, Miranda had sent a message to Jacob, one of the few Cerberus operatives she trusted. She was counting on him to wake up Shepard and to lead him to the shuttles.

It wouldn't be an easy process to wake up Shepard, and Miranda was already worried what damage it might have on him to be woken prematurely.

She was left with no alternatives. This was not how she envisioned waking up Shepard. She had carefully planned the procedure. It was to be a serene experience allowing him ample time to adjust to not only his surroundings, and the trauma of coming back to life but to the amount of time that had gone by.

She tried to push down the growing fears and risks that began surfacing to the forefront of her mind at the damage that this would do to Shepard. Her own anxiety and personal fear of the man made it a difficult task for the usual stoic and controlled Operative to perform.

She wished it could have been as easy as just shouting his name loud enough until he woke up, but it wasn't. It required steps that she could not perform at her current location; since he was still hooked up to several medical devices which were continuing to monitor his growing progress.

She trusted Jacob with the task, and knew that Shepard would need an experienced soldier to help lead him through the besieged station. All she could do was to clear the shuttle bay and wait for them.

The constant fluttering of her stomach, she attributed to the fact that she would soon come face to face with Shepard. It had been two years since his death, a painful experience for the Operative, something that alarmed the usual indifferent Miranda. She had become attached to the Alliance hero in their brief encounters together before his death.

Throughout this process, and the amount of work she had put in rebuilding him. She had to detach herself from her feeling of Shepard. She needed to take on a personal demeanor so that her emotions wouldn't cloud her judgment. Now that he has been resurrected, the walls she had put up were now threatening to crumble.

Attachment was not one of her strengths, the sense of wanting to be with another person, or the need to see someone was something Miranda had prided herself on not having. And yet all of her personal control, icy demeanor, and indifferent nature had become undone with this one remarkable man.

Focus, Miranda mentally chided herself, inwardly scolding for allowing herself to be momentarily distracted by her thoughts of her soon-to-be encounter with Shepard. She needed to prepare for their extraction. She went to one of the last remaining intact shuttles. She entered the cockpit, prepping the engines and priming the FTL drive.

Satisfied by the hum of the engines, she exited the shuttle and as she did she could hear familiar voices coming from the other side of the door. She recognized all three voices, relieved at realizing that Shepard and Jacob had made it safely.

"Wilson," she snarled, recognizing the third voice, she retrieved her pistol, aiming it at the door. She could feel a growing anger, burning from within, being fed on the thought of that traitorous bastard, nearly undoing all of her work, but more importantly jeopardizing the life of Shepard.

That was something that she could not allow. She cocked her pistol and was ready to finish this. Not only to finish Wilson's life but to finish what she started two years ago- the Lazarus project.


That could have gone better, Miranda thought to herself, referring to her first encounter with Shepard.

It had involved her killing Wilson in cold blood in front of Shepard and Jacob. It was definitely not the image she had thought of when she had pictured the moment in her head. To his credit, Shepard didn't seem the least bit bothered at witnessing the man's execution, instead he agreed with her, voicing his own distrust of the Cerberus engineer.

Yes, their reunion was not something out of those dramatized vids, after a reunion of the lovers there were no hugs or kisses, or proclamations of love. She was not going to leap into his arms and tell him how much she had missed him or confess her undying love to him.

She scoffed at the mere thought of that possibility occurring. She wasn't a damsel whose life had been lost without Shepard. His death had hurt her, more so then she would ever admit to another person. But she would not allow her emotions to control or drive her.

She sat alone in the cockpit of the shuttle, checking the navigation and the auto-pilot to make sure that they would have a smooth journey. She wanted to do anything that would distract herself from her fluttering stomach, and the continuing thoughts that surrounded him.

She wanted to dismiss them, to forget them, but each time she successfully pushed them down, more seemed to take their place. She would be lying to herself to say she wasn't pleased at Shepard's recovery, or even thankful that she was able to revive him in the first place.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat, bringing her fingers through her hair as she tried to think of a way out of this particular emotional mess. She needed a plan on how to address the issue, without it affecting her duty to perform this mission or assignment.

The sudden sound of laughing coming from the other side of the door momentarily broke through her musings. It shouldn't have come as a surprise for her that the two soldiers were getting along. Not only were they both former Alliance, but their ordeal in fighting through the station had no doubt forged a new bond between the two men.

This wasn't going to be easy, she admitted to herself, refocusing on how she should best move forward. She knew what she had to do. There would be a time for some sort of emotional reunion between them. A time to talk, to clear the air, to gauge feelings and figure out where they should go from here, but this wasn't it. She was certainly not going to discuss any part of her personal life while Jacob was with them.

She still had a job to do, a mission to accomplish. Her duty as the Project Lazarus director still wasn't over with Shepard reawakening. To her, Shepard was still a work in progress, a mission unfinished. He may have survived the ordeal on the station, but she still needed to gauge his brain function as well as his memory.

She pushed herself out of her seat, taking a deep breath, and preparing herself for her first conversation with Shepard. She slid her frosty mask on with ease, with an icy demeanor, and an indifferent tone she was ready and prepared to speak with him for the first time in two years.


It was remarkable, Miranda thought with some awe, standing on the command deck of the newly christened Normandy SR-2. To her this state of the art frigate was proof of not just Cerberus's dedication to Shepard, but their dedication to humanity.

This was a symbol of the true ideals of Cerberus. Not the experiments, nor the rogue cells, or the questionable members. It was this. She felt a small sense of pride swell within her chest at what Cerberus was capable of. It was not the Alliance or the Council that wanted to stop the Collectors or to resurrect Shepard, it was Cerberus.

The mention of Shepard, brought her attention to the Commander who was surveying the new galaxy map, his arms folded as he took in his new bearings with Jacob at his side.

He too was remarkable, she admitted, remembering their mission to the last colony that had gone silent. She had watched his every movement on Freedom's Progress like a parent watching their child take his first steps. She looked for any limps, winces, signs of fatigue or any problem breathing, but he excelled in their mission.

He easily passed the physical daunting task of combat, taking out the YMIR mech with ease. She hadn't quite believed Jacob's glowing review of him handling mechs on the station. It was not because she didn't trust Jacob, but she didn't trust Shepard being able to accomplish any such physical toll so quickly after waking up, but apparently she had been proven wrong.

His endurance and skill against the mechs had been on full display, showing his prowess as a soldier hadn't diminished.

Miranda's brief interactions with him since his recovery had been strained. She was keeping her distance from him. She needed to stay professional; she wasn't comfortable with allowing her personal life to be viewed for all the Normandy SR-2 crew to see.

She knew she was coming across as indifferent or cold, but appearances needed to be maintained. If the crew were to find out about her history with Shepard, there would be talk of her being assigned this prestigious position based on whom she knew and not what she did.

Every time he would turn to her or try to engage her in conversation, she didn't smile, she kept her tone civil, and her answers were short and to the point.

A growing part of her, was finding it more and more difficult to keep the façade up. She wanted to reach out for him, smile at him, to take his hands in hers, but she didn't.

The thought of allowing those emotions to show, to control her was unsettling for the stoic, and calculating Cerberus Operative. She wouldn't allow herself to fall prey to them. That was not who she was, nor who she could ever be.

It was becoming more difficult each time she had to. This new part of her, this growing part that wanted to display her emotions, would come alive and become captivated by his silent charisma and demanding presence. Shepard woke something deep within her that she found frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

And until she could sort not just her emotions out, she would continue to suppress them.

They were about to embark on a mission that needed to take priority, and she would not allow herself to become distracted or inept while she tried to wrestle with personal feelings.

She could only hope that he could understand and if he didn't then perhaps he wasn't the man, she thought he was…


A/N: The chapters will switch perspectives in the same way, "I will Rise" did, so the next chapter will be in Shepard's.

Next chapter will include Shepard and Miranda in how they deal with their relationship and how best to move forward. So stay tuned.

Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review.

My inbox is open if you have any questions or comments, or if you just want to vent/rant about the ME 3 ending, feel free.

-Spectre4hire