A/N: This one was requested by Jericho-Is-Falling, who wanted some Miranda/TIM. This isn't quite a pairing but I do hope it's appropriately creepy.


Lab Work

Yesterday had been wetwork but today involved only the computer scan grids, and Miranda was glad; washing machines couldn't get the bloodstains out on their own. Shepard lay in the stasis field wrapped like a mummy. The body's temperature was important down to the degree. To Miranda, Wilson, and the med techs, this manifested as a barely noticeable, lukewarm room ambiance.

Most internal systems were functional enough that they'd need to up the airflow soon, but Shepard's brain was still sending out no more than it had in the beginning; little blips like the sense centers dreaming. It was one of the annual report days, so she told Wilson to monitor life support and pause the scans while she met with the Illusive Man.

Sometimes he visited in person, but more often the holosuite was their only means of connection, as was the case today. He stood in the light-paneled false office and abandoned his chair to stand in front of her instead as the hologrid faded, a cigarette hanging unlit in his hand.

"You are making progress."

"We are," she replied confidently. "Shepard will be ready on schedule."

"Good. And all of my Lazarus operatives are ready as well?"

"Of course. Did you expect otherwise?"
He paced back toward the office backdrop—walking out into space. "I have assigned people to resurrect the dead. I expected some complications—religion, temperament, or simply weak stomachs. I must be sure my employees are capable."

"They are. We'll keep an eye on Wilson, but he does his job."

"He should be too assured of his position to want to compromise it. He is paid well. Loyalty is the first prerequisite for a good operative. The second…" A gesture with the cigarette, as natural to him as a pull. His fingers were wrinkled with age but showed sinewy strength. "…might be called fear by simpler people, but I know—you know—that fear is really only a judge of alertness. People fear what they do not expect."

Miranda did not know what to say to this. The Illusive Man was usually more about business than about Yoda-like aphorisms. Was he training her to succeed him? Pride started to brew in her.

"You noticed that the hall lights were off, didn't you?"

"It was dim. I will tell maintenance to get them fixed. I could see."

"Could you." He took a lighter from his pocket and flicked the flame against the end of the cigarette. "I came on a special trip today to investigate how alert my employees were. I will now have to move on to Wilson." He looked up. "End the program.

Cigarette smoke seemed to scratch at Miranda's nostrils after the sterilized lab. The holosuite faded, and it took a moment for her to even watch the edges of the Illusive Man to see why he wasn't fading. He wasn't. The smoke bit at her and he had been standing in the room all along hadn't he, first in the darkness behind her and then in front of her like an afterglow, and she had been too focused on herself. Hadn't he been there? Or he had come up behind her as the holo started, or—

It didn't matter. Inwardly she cursed herself as he walked past her into the hallway, pausing a moment to wrap his fingers around her shoulder and leave ash on her white suit.

"Alertness is important, Operative Lawson," the Illusive Man said as he walked down the hallway in front of her, on his way to investigate his other employees in surely less dramatic but equally intimidating manner. "It may serve you well in the future."