Thoughts of coordinating with Dr. Chakwas on a check-up because of the fact Shepard pretty much slept whenever they weren't actively on a mission so far vanished from Miranda's mind the moment she set foot on the cesspool of cesspools. Her nose crinkled and she heard Jacob sigh after looking at her, but she chose not to acknowledge it.

EDI's voice came over the comms, "Mordin Solus' status is—"

"Hold that thought." Shepard waved them forward with two fingers as she walked up to a batarian leaning against a wall. A wall dark with age or possibly blood. "What can I do for you?"

"Stand still."

Miranda moved in front of Shepard when he brought up his omnitool. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," he said, focusing his eyes on her for just a moment before tapping on his keyboard again. "Move so I can scan her."

"For what purpose?"

"Lawson."

She looked over her shoulder to fix a quick glare on her and barely caught sight of Jacob's tired face in the process. "What? You think I invested so much in you just for random people to come up to you and do what they like?"

"Aria wants to make sure this is the right Commander Shepard and I like breathing."

"This is Commander Shepard."

Another ship docked farther down.

"Doesn't look like her."

A slew of information about the change in Shepard's hair color was half a second from charging out of Miranda's mouth when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. It gave her a gentle push to the side, and she let it. Still, this didn't sit well with her. The quarian was one thing, but everyone and their damn hamster couldn't just scan Shepard whenever they felt like it.

"Miranda."

Out of her peripherals, she might've glared at Jacob as he stepped up to her side.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel fine, Jacob."

"Are you sure?"

Her eyes rolled before she turned her head to him and made the eye contact he'd been waiting on the entire time. "Just say what you want to say, Jacob."

"You're off, Miranda. I don't know what it is, but it's messing up your game."

"My game is absolutely fine, Jacob."

He looked around them even though Shepard and the batarian were out of earshot. Then he dropped his voice and leaned toward her with honest eyes. "You can tell me what you're worried about. You don't have to do everything alone and this is way too serious for you to lead with your pride."

Her eyes moved away from him then.

A sigh dragged out of his lungs and she could hear him take in a breath to go about a rougher approach, but Miranda simply walked away from him to meet Shepard half way while the batarian left.

Even though her eyes moved between them for a moment, Shepard ignored the tension and jerked her head to the side. "We're going to meet up with Aria for a second."

EDI beat Miranda to speaking. "It is highly encouraged to be a quick detour. The state of Mordin Solus is currently unknown, though we could tentatively infer he is alive because there is no news. However, the plague is running rampant and has been for some time."

"And Archangel?"

"Last report was thirteen hours ago. The gangs have started open recruitment of mercenaries to help storm his base." There was a pause. "He has been there, under constant attack, for four days."

Jacob's eyebrows rose. "Any stims he's taking must be taking a toll as much as they help."

Miranda looked away from a ship flying by to find green eyes on her. Waiting. She cleared her throat. "Given his reputation and the situation, I would wager he's as likely to die from heart failure as a bullet."

A half shrug from Jacob in Miranda's direction. "Our priority is the doctor, though. Archangel could die any minute or before we get there. Or even be useless to us if he survives. Meanwhile the doctor could also die any minute. And if he can't come up for something for those swarms, we don't have a chance."

Blue eyes rolled to the flickering light above them. "If a former STG member was going to die, I'm certain he would've done it already, what with the chaos of firefights from gangs or the deadly plague, Jacob."

"You mean the one he could catch any minute?"

"Fair points on both sides." Shepard spun around and started walking up the dimly lit corridor. "If Dr. Solus is capable of helping us with those swarms, he can avoid a plague."

Miranda frowned at her back. "That's not how that works, Shepard."

But the commander just waved a hand at nothing.

As they entered the main area of Omega, Shepard spared the place one, sweeping glance, her stride never slowing on her way to the blazing lights of Afterlife. She bypassed the line curling around the block and ascended the stairs and at last paused when an elcor bouncer turned from a desperate human to regard her.

"Aria's expecting you." Then he turned back to the human who'd taken to yelling that Aria was expecting him too. "I'm going to break your legs and roll you to the back of the line."

Jacob nodded to no one in particular while they waited for the door to open. "Guess he doesn't have to state his tone if he only uses one."

The doors hissed open and the music of Afterlife promised to rattle their bones and beat in their chests once they reached its core.

Some batarian took one look at them and decided to puff his chest, probably yelling at the top of his lungs to make sure they heard him as well as his companions. Miranda couldn't begin to list all the things wrong with his claim at being able to "kick the ass of humanity's best at this shithole."

Pathetic.

The very second Shepard stalled in front of him, rocking back and forth midstep with a small tilt to her head like she'd heard the buzz of a bee she couldn't see, Miranda knew she would have to throw out any and all the psych profiles and reports she'd copied from the Alliance.

Jacob's curious, "Commander?" was lost in both the surrounding music and the batarian joking that someone was trying to have a bad day.

Shepard halfway turned to him then. She stared long enough to make him jerk his shoulders up and cross his arms while his companions touched their pistols. She stared long enough to make Miranda consider moving closer to see her eyes.

"Got something on your small mind?"

Miranda had to strain to hear what came next, and even then, part of it was filling in with a guess at Shepard's words.

"Don't know why you're asking for a bad day."

The batarian's focus moved between Shepard and them and back again before he studied the floor.

Without looking at him, Shepard reached out to unholster his pistol...and dropped it to the floor.

Miranda wished she could openly begin constructing notes and theories on what major events with Shepard were altered in records and how as they walked away. She also wished she had someone who intimately knew Shepard available to properly determine what was actually a change in Shepard's behavior or what fit into expected parameters.

For now, as the full strength of Afterlife's music pounded against them and they circuited the large dance area, Miranda committed to throwing out anything she couldn't personally verify as a fact about the Commander and to form expectations as they went.

For example, was the fact Shepard didn't really look around the place a show of her professionalism, honest disinterest, or what? The club was genuinely impressive and catered to a variety of interests. Not even all of Miranda's visits here had been strictly business.

It was another minute or so before they went up a small flight of stairs to what basically passed as Aria's throne. On the landing, another batarian stopped them, bringing up his omnitool, but Shepard pushed his arm down and went around him. She took the last stairs up to Aria, who was sitting on one of her couches with open arms across the back of it and legs crossed wide.

Such a clear power display.

While Miranda saw the use of them, she still had to refrain from rolling her eyes.

Shepard locked her hands behind her back and bowed her head. "You asked for me?"

Aria's head tilted to the side, her gaze roving over Shepard. "You obliged."

Whether it was the words themselves or the fact Shepard's presence had been a clear demand, she looked to the side at nothing for a moment and Miranda caught a glimpse of a smirk.

Amusement. Interesting.

"As if I could refuse someone so...impressive."

Careless, Aria's hand flipped over in a vague gesture for her company to sit.

Instead of taking up the offer on the neighboring couch, Shepard sat at the end of Aria's. The change in Aria's face was small. Distinct. Distinct like Shepard's cocked eyebrow and the shift in tone. "As if I could keep from inviting someone so impressive."

Jacob leaned very slightly toward Miranda, eyes still on the two on the landing above them. "You're seeing this, right?"

Well, that destroyed the possibility Miranda was getting the wrong impression from the situation.

And then it was gone. A twist came to Aria's lips as her gaze traveled and her fingers bounced on the top of the couch. "Someone so impressive they escaped death. I'm sure you understand my need to make sure it was actually you. Anybody could've been wearing your skin."

"Naturally."

"So—not that your answer matters—escaper of death or Cerberus plaything?"

It almost felt like the music stopped when Shepard's expression became like the one on Freedom's Progress. Except, colder. She didn't say anything when Aria looked at her, held her gaze.

From here, under Afterlife's ever-shifting lights and wild hues, Miranda could see the glow of cybernetics under Shepard's skin.

Aria murmured something. Then she rolled her head about her shoulders and held out her left hand. Once she was given a datapad, she tossed it toward Shepard. "Information on your Archangel and your doctor that might help."

Shepard didn't look at it. "In return?"

"The Blue Suns are in charge of hiring thugs. Downstairs." She accepted a drink from a dancer and shook it idly, watching the light play on it. "If I were you, I would hurry."

It was probably the lightest dismissal Aria had ever given. And Shepard went about it quietly. Coming down to the landing, green eyes didn't look at either of them, but she did hold the datapad out to Miranda without breaking stride. That is, until Aria called her name.

"Has anyone told you the only rule of Omega?"

"Let me guess." Shepard looked over her shoulder. "Don't fuck with Aria?"

A smirk graced them. "Aria T'Loak, at your service."


Looking at Shepard's helmet was throwing Miranda off. Light played off it and left spots in her eyes sometimes and the visor was tinted so she could only guess at Shepard's expressions. Which was, frankly, difficult at this point. Especially in the dark of the skycar.

She exhaled slowly through her nose and shook her head a little. So much depended on this mission, this mission where the person leading left her spinning in circles. Left her clueless. When Miranda began to turn her gaze to her own window, she caught Jacob's knowing stare.

Rather, what he thought was a knowing stare.

He didn't know a damn thing and it was only annoying.

She watched the buildings fly by and tried to think of a place more dreary, more hopeless, and more disgusting than Omega. By the time they landed, she hadn't come up with one.

The skycar took off without them and Miranda walked after Shepard. Jacob, however, vanished from her peripherals and she only rolled her eyes. Maybe he would get over his issue instead of causing A Talk.

"Commander."

In a last ditch effort, Miranda didn't stop alongside Shepard.

"What is it, Jacob?"

It took a lot for Miranda to keep from sighing and tapping her foot. She watched steam coil out of a pipe against the nearby building and up into the dark "sky." Omega really looked like it might shut down if they invested in more lights. Maybe it would.

"What's the plan?"

The question registered as stupid enough that Miranda glanced back at them. Sometimes Jacob wore a neon sign that said he was a tight-laced soldier. You could take a soldier out the Alliance but you could never take the Alliance out of the soldier. The thought drew her gaze to Shepard.

"Well," Shepard paused and her shoulders rolled the tiniest bit, causing Miranda to wonder at her expression. "We go see what they have planned, and then we go from there."

A tightness came to Jacob's mouth and he nodded, but it wasn't honest.

Shepard's stride was longer when she started walking again. Close to stomping, if Miranda wasn't mistaken.

They passed a checkpoint with some Blue Suns members playing cards and got some directions.

Miranda moved on autopilot, even with the gunfire in the distance. Had Shepard been annoyed at the situation or Jacob's question? If the latter, was it over Jacob's need for control or the fact she was questioned at all?

Blue eyes slid over to the tall, straight-backed figure in N7 armor just ahead of her.

Commander Shepard didn't seem the type to feel disrespected over simple questions. If she was, there's no way she could've stopped Saren with the crew she had. Hell, one of the facts Miranda knew for sure was that Urdnot Wrex had pointed a pistol at Shepard's face and questioned their relationship and her intentions and the woman hadn't even reached for her own gun.

A shoulder plate got dangerously close to Miranda's face as she nearly walked into Shepard.

This checkpoint had an Eclipse member and a Blood Pack merc staring at them and Miranda realized she'd missed something.

Jacob's voice came from behind her. "What's the problem, exactly? We're guns. Just like you."

The two shared a look and the krogan snorted, but it was the salarian who pointed. "The problem is the anomaly. What's an N7 doing here? Don't you have important human things to do? You know, with the Alliance?"

One of Shepard's hands fell to her hip. "You think the Alliance pays enough? Why are you two buddy-buddy? Your groups hate each other."

The opposing gang members looked at each other before pointedly going back to their game of cards.

Carefully stepping past boxes and ammunition crates, Miranda's lips moved without thought. "Nicely done, Shepard."

She looked at Miranda for a moment, reason and purpose impossible to know with that tinted helmet.

And then they were off again, in a game of pretend and information gathering. Apparently the general plan was to throw freelancers at Archangel on a suicidal killing ground until the groups broke through the tower's defenses to get to him. Shepard didn't pause at the revelation and whether that was reassuring or concerning, Miranda didn't know.

They also had to bypass more than a few bodies Archangel had managed to get a shot at even with the barricades during downtime from attacks.

At one or two points they wandered individually to see what damage they could do to make their job easier or what they could use to their advantage.

Miranda's own discovery reminded her of a heartless chess move, and the possible death toll occurred to her, but she moved off that thought.

It took her another ten minutes to find Shepard. After hearing her voice, Miranda ducked under half of an impromptu curtain to enter the back area with an open space in the wall and realized it was a makeshift garage.

"You ask too many questions for a freelancer." This voice was rough and his pronunciation sounded off, like he had something in his mouth.

And Miranda wasn't sure where he was until she rounded a corner and saw Shepard sitting atop a crate in front of a gunship, looking down.

The ship had a rather large cannon. Custom work.

Shepard's helmet turned as the click of her boots sounded on a metal grating she stepped on. The visor's tint faded just long enough for Shepard to bounce her dark eyebrows twice. Miranda tilted her head in silent question, but Shepard turned back to her conversational partner. "Maybe."

"There's no maybe about it." A batarian slid out from under the gunship with a huff and stood, dusting himself off. He flicked some ash from his cigarette and only spared Miranda a glance.

"Do your job and get paid. That's all. You look like you might actually live."

When he went past them on the way to his work table and neither of them said anything else, Miranda took it as a sign they were about to leave and turned. But the silence from Shepard made her turn back with a question on her tongue.

Instead, as the mechanic doubled back, Shepard said, simply, "You won't."

"What—"

Something shot forward in Shepard's grip and connected with the base of his spine. Electricity shook him.

He dropped.

Shepard slid off her crate and set the tool back down before extinguishing his cigarette.

As was becoming custom, she jerked her head for Miranda to follow. And Miranda did so, but she couldn't help wondering if that was incredibly cold of the commander, or sadistic. It was effective, quick, and clearly helpful by having the gunship out the picture.

Yet it bothered her.

And it bothered her further because wouldn't she have done the same?


The roar of a thresher maw echoed over a dozen others. A twitch, a shake of her head and it was gone.

Still, however, was the scream of space in her ears. The icy grip of it on her heart.

She clenched her jaw so tightly her teeth produced a small screech as they grated against each other.

Still, however, she kept on. Normal. A regular stride. Her voice sounded regular.

Regular and normal.

Jacob nodded to her. He didn't like their plan, she could tell, but he seemed more at ease with everything clarified. Storming a killing ground before turning on the people beside them and dashing into a tower to be trapped wasn't nearly as suicidal as stopping the Collectors.

She didn't directly look at Operative Lawson, though. She couldn't. Her visor was tinted, but she still felt so exposed under the intensity of that blue stare. It was serious. A life-threatening type of serious. And it was almost always accompanied by a scowl, or at least what Shepard felt was a scowl. It made her hyperfocused on her game of pretend. It made her wonder what she had done to offend the woman.

Then she remembered the glow of biotics in the engine room. But Lawson didn't seem the type to be hung up over such a small thing.

Her lungs felt cold and she choked. Coughed.

The sound of metal on metal rang out as someone hit her back gentler than she was used to. "You okay, Shepard?"

"Yeah." She couldn't remember the last time she had been. Or maybe she did. A swarm of laughs filled her ears and she saw Kaidan Alenko's rare smile. One last cough. "Thanks, Jacob."

They'd reached a group—the next charge—and a very detached salarian was giving the most half-assed directions from atop a box Shepard had ever heard. She took the opportunity to spin on her heel and address...her team? These two people in an organization she hated? Someone who she could understand and someone who had spent days and nights and countless hours laboring over making sure she would be who she was supposed to be?

Who was she supposed to be?

You died.

"Commander?"

She lifted her head but chose not to directly look at either of them, but rather between them. Taking in a large breath let her shake off the irritation over his concern, genuine or not. Without turning her head, she could see that serious stare and that vague scowl. "So we all know the game plan. We all know how badly we need to get in and get out. Remember, Jacob's staying downstairs and laying suppression fire like there will never be another day—"

"Won't it be strange for me to take one of these? Also, how?" He nodded his head toward an ammunition crate.

She stared at it like it would eventually grow a head. Then she knelt and scooped some clips out of it and thrust them into his hands. "Well, I figured there would be enough bodies for you to find plenty of ammo, but, well. Here." Why were they having this conversation? "I believe in you."

"And the dozens of clips on that bridge and at the entrance of the tower," Miranda added dryly as she leaned a bit around a barricade to get a better look at the topic of their conversation.

"I'm just saying there's a ton of mercs and mechs and freelancers this side of the bridge."

"It wouldn't be forever, Jacob."

Shepard frowned within her helmet, some memory tugging at her, but it was all blurred shapes and whispers.

"I'll do my best, Shepard."

She hoped so. He might die or complicate an already concerning mission otherwise. But she just nodded at him.

A glance at Miranda told her there were no concerns to be found from her, but rather a simple boredom. Shepard would've found it distasteful if she hadn't seen the woman in action. And that very same flicker of distaste made her heart beat faster with an onslaught of memories. Flashes meshed together of gunshots and laughter and blue blood and sighs and heated arguments next to the Mako.

"Commander?"

Some freelancer yelled for their salarian speech-giver to hurry up and he just waved his hand for them to go. Perfect timing for Shepard as she turned back around and took deep breaths and tried to shake off her thoughts.

Miranda mumbled something about people being in a rush to die.

The door to the main barricade was opened and they poured out alongside the group, gunshot after gunshot already ringing out. It felt so artificial, not really shooting at anything as they jumped over bodies twisted and bloody and broken from too many hopeless assaults. A bullet slammed into her barrier, right over her visor. She looked up at Archangel at his perch, a lull in his endless distribution of death as they stared at each other. One dark visor, one bright blue visor. There was a sick crunch under her boot, but she still didn't look away.

He was waiting for her.

He lowered his head, aiming.

Another bullet right over her visor.

As he went back to his dirty work, Miranda yelled, "What kind of slugs are those?"

"Heavy ones," Jacob answered.

A freelancer that had been almost keeping up with them dropped from a lone bullet, proving Jacob's point.

Once they were three-fourths of the way across, Shepard and Miranda stopped to release a barrage of biotics. Archangel fired faster than he had the entire time they'd been there, undoubtedly overheating his rifle as he helped mow down the current assault team. Whether it was panic or confusion or suspicion, some of the freelancers fired on each other, too. Once Jacob's gun started up, though, Shepard and Miranda turned and ran for refuge just inside the tower.

No more shots from above them.

It only took another minute or two to finish off the stragglers.

"Everyone all good?"

"Affirmative."

Jacob began kicking a small, curved piece of a table over to the low wall he planned to use for cover. "Are you? Our boy was shooting at you."

"He got me once with a dummy round half an hour ago, too. Scared the shit out of the mercs."

While Miranda hummed, Jacob paused in dropping spare clips into his makeshift bucket. He stared far too hard at the clips in his hand. "That's weird. You think it's because of the N7 armor he picked you out?"

"Let's go ask instead of speculate."

Shepard could agree on that, and so she did by trotting off. Across the spacious room that had been hastily torn apart for defense purposes with random barricade set ups and points of cover and a few pockmarked areas from some people that had actually made it across the bridge. No further, though, as Shepard saw their bodies were dragged into the kitchen.

The fact Archangel was good about controlling his area certainly appealed to Shepard. Now if only he would survive this without any complications on his heart or something else.

Up the stairs and going along the hallway, she found herself stalling, slowing down to stare at a plant. It was ugly and plain in an ugly and plain pot, but it was unscathed. Amid all this chaos and death, it remained unaffected and simply continued on.

Boots with a tiny heel clicking onto tile behind her.

The faint beeps and whirrs of the door unlocking ahead of her.

Her feet brought her to the door just as it began to slide open.

She didn't break stride. Her eyes began to cast around the wide room but Archangel stole her attention and brought her to a stop. He was sitting on the back of the couch, rifle across his lap in a tight grip, a shaking grip. The blue of his visor might've burned her tired eyes and made her heart ache if it wasn't for her own tinted visor.

The sound of clicking stopped off to her side, just behind her. "Archangel? We can discuss the details after extraction, but we were hoping we could recruit you in a mission to stop the Collectors."

His head didn't so much as twitch.

Visor to visor.

"I'm taking that as a soft 'no' due to lack of rest."

At last, he moved. A rush of motion. Uncoordinated as his hand swung his rifle too wide and his left leg shook and his steps were a staggering drift to the side before he corrected himself. His stop was as abrupt as Shepard's had been, but less controlled as he leaned forward in a wobble for just a moment.

There was a gentle crackle of biotics just behind Shepard.

Archangel brought up his free hand and touched the same spot on her visor that he'd shot twice. He tapped it.

Her heart was in her throat with a feeling she couldn't understand, but, still, Shepard reached to undo the latches on her helmet. It slid off and, sure enough the bright blue of the visor did burn her eyes and make her heart ache as she craned her neck to look at him. She took a deep breath. "I understand the Cerberus logo would—"

Rifle clattering to the floor, his hands jumped to his own helmet but they fumbled and fumbled again to create soft, metal rings in the air each time.

Shepard's eyes stung as she rose to her tiptoes and yanked on the cusp of his armor to bring him lower and swatted his hands away to mess with his helmet.

"C—Commander?"

She barely heard Miranda. The helmet came off and flew out of her hands in the same instant to fly back toward the door.

Her vision blurred at the bright, blue eyes burning into her. Garrus Vakarian's mandibles were flaring almost uncontrollably in every direction and she felt her own mouth twitching and quivering. She swallowed. A breath shook her. Ghosted out of her in what might've been more of a sob than a chuckle. "You ugly bastard."

The weight of him suddenly crashing into her made her stumble back. It was as much a struggle to support him as to wrap her arms around him as she briefly thought he'd passed out.

"What's the plan?"

"I was hoping you had one."

"I thought we were all supposed to form a plan together, Shepard."

She could feel that gaze searing her armor, but not as much as she felt remotely safe for the first time in what felt like years. Her bones ached like the end of the SR-1 was millennia ago. So she just laughed.

Garrus laughed too, one of his mandibles catching in black hair as he made no effort to move. His voice rumbled into her ear with an audible smile. "Sounds like Plan E."

"Unless you or Lawson have any ideas."

"What the hell is Plan E? You cannot possibly have a plan for every letter."

"Only to...what's that human letter?"

"Human, English letter, Garrus. It's—"

"I'm sorry we turians are too efficient to have hundreds of languages."

"It's F, you liar."

Garrus lifted his head from Shepard's shoulder to finally look at Miranda, some hair still caught on his mandible. "We only have plans through the letter F, Lawson."

Shepard snorted.

Impassive, blue eyes moved between them slowly.

"There's a tunnel out of here."

"Mercs are trying to break through it."

"Oh." He laid his head back on Shepard's shoulder, his arms just dangling at his sides even as he still swayed. "Then I don't have a plan."

Jacob's voice came over the comms, "We've been all clear for too long. I don't like it at all. Is Archangel all good?"

Shepard slapped her hands against Garrus' sides once before starting to push him off and only stopping to free her hair from him. She watched him wobble.

"Commander, I'm not certain he's up for another gunfight."

"I'm gunfight!" He shook his head. One hand settled on Shepard's shoulder for support as he jabbed a finger past her and at Miranda. "I'm up for another gunfight! It's just the stims."

"Yes, and exactly how many have you taken?" In his silence, she crossed her arms and ignored Shepard's gaze. "Or, how long ago did you disable your suit's safety protocols for overdoses?"

Garrus looked back down at Shepard and tapped the side of her head to get her attention. "I don't think I like her."

There was a sniff from Miranda's direction. "That's fine."

Green eyes rolled as she wondered just how argumentative Miranda could get. She was opening her mouth to hand off directions when Jacob asked again about the status of Archangel. Instead, she gave him a short answer before struggling to turn around due to Garrus halfway leaning on her. She huffed. "Is he always like that?"

Miranda gave Shepard a tired look.

Jacob shouted a warning right before the gunshots started.