Interlude One.

"You needed to see me, Shepard?" She asked, leaning against the doorframe of the armoury.

The Commander herself was hunched over a work-table; in the midst of dismantling a long barrelled rifle. She twisted, then pulled the barrel free, examining it with a keen eye.

"Dirt on the base, how did that get there?" Shepard wondered aloud.

Miranda paused, she knew the Commander well enough to understand when she was distracted and when she wasn't.

She set the barrel of the gun aside and turned around, dusting her grimy hands off on the sides of her dirtied t-shirt.

"Yes, I did," Shepard sat down on a nearby stool, "These talks you've been having with Kelly, are they affecting your work?"

Straight to the point, Miranda liked that, "Has my work deteriorated lately, Commander?"

Shepard shook her head, "No. I just wanted to squash any problems before they arose."

Miranda nodded in agreement.

Shepard turned the stool around and leant over the work-table again. She picked up a slim rag and began rubbing down the barrel she'd set aside; cleaning away any grime or dirt that had congealed there, "Unbelievable. These things are supposed to be dirt-proof, but Zaeed always finds a way."

"He's got an impressive talent for destruction," Miranda smiled wistfully, moving away from the door-frame and stepping forward, "Was there anything else, Shepard?"

Shepard paused and turned her head to the side, as if straining to hear something, "No, nothing."

Miranda turned to leave, her heels clicking on the cold, metal floor of the armoury.

"Actually, Miranda?" Shepard called after her, "Go see Garrus. He's on the engineering deck, I think."

Miranda paused, trying to think of an excuse, or a rational objection, but instead she simply said, "Of course, Shepard."


"Vakarian," Miranda called out, striding between row upon row of landing craft. Her head pivoted and turned in every direction, searching for the elusive Turian.

"Over here," He called back, his reverberating voice bouncing around the wide open room.

"Over where?" Miranda murmured to herself, disgruntled.

"Here," Garrus said firmly, stepping out from behind a shuttle, his omni-tool was open and a holographic display of the shuttle's interior workings was hovering above it.

Miranda nodded to the shuttle, "What's the problem?"

"Not important," Garrus said, turning off his omni-tool with a flick of his wrist, "Shepard said you were having night-terrors."

"Did she?" Miranda cocked an eyebrow.

"What? Too tough to have nightmares?" Garrus asked, feigning surprise, "Or did your daddy remove that gene along with the 'don't-be-a-humourless-murderer' genetic marker?"

"Very good, Vakarian," Miranda nodded, "Although I still think you're best joke was your attempt at a career in C-Sec."

Garrus laughed brusquely, "Nice."

"And now that we're done with your customary sparring match every time someone tries to talk to you, perhaps you could explain to me how exactly Shepard expects you to be able to help me with my problem?"

"Well," Garrus sighed, leaning back against the shuttle's gunfire-scarred nose, "I wasn't exactly the most stable person myself when I signed up for this ride."

"Oh, I think you did just fine."

"But," Garrus cut across her, ignoring the jibe, "I was able to work through it."

"So what you're saying is I have to hunt down everyone who wronged me and put a gun to their head?" Miranda nodded slowly, "I could get behind that."

"No," Garrus said, "Although it couldn't hurt. But you should probably stop holing yourself up in your office all day; maybe come on a mission or two, something to settle your nerves, you know?"

"How does getting shot at help settle my nerves exactly, Garrus?"

"I don't know, works wonders for me," Garrus shrugged.

"Such a splendid help you've been," Miranda nodded sardonically, "Really."

"Alright, alright," Garrus stood up straight, "All I'm saying is, if you stay inside and keep your mind focused on whatever's troubling you. You'll never sleep soundly again. Short of going on a one-woman rampage, your best bet for getting past this is to keep your mind distracted."

"That's bloody stupid," Miranda sneered, "The first thing a soldier is taught is that if you're distracted; you're dead."

"Yeah, but you're not a soldier."

"Right," Miranda said quietly, turning away, "Thanks anyway, Garrus."


This was, by far the stupidest thing she'd ever considered. The door slid shut behind her with a soft hiss. Her heels clacked against the ground once more.

The alien turned to greet her, his black eyes blinked twice; bewildered.

"How do you sleep, Krios?" Miranda asked firmly.

Thane glanced around the room, as if searching for an escape. Or an explanation.

He made a slight non-committal noise as his mouth gaped open and then closed again. A lot like the fish he resembled, "However I like, Operative Lawson."

"Not what I meant," She sighed.

"I am confused," Thane said quietly, softly.

"Yes," Miranda slowly said, "I can commiserate."

"How do I sleep?" Thane asked the question aloud, his head tilting back and staring at the ceiling, "Odd question. Are you perplexed by living arrangements?"

"Forget it," Miranda said, brushing the question aside, then she added, "Do you ever have nightmares?"

"Nightmares?" Thane asked, again, completely bewildered.

"Bloody hell," Miranda sighed, "Never mind."

"As you wish," The confused Drell whispered to Miranda's disappearing back.


"If you're having trouble sleeping, talk to Chambers," Jacob shrugged.

"I have been, Jacob," Miranda sighed, rubbing her face.

"Then talk to Shepard," Jacob shrugged again, leaning back against the CIC's main console.

A technician pushed past him, carrying a data-slate.

"I have," Miranda said quietly, frustrated.

"Well then best thing to do is to try your best to stay focused," Jacob folded his arms across his chest, "Go ask Shepard if there any job's that need doing. Try running an op, or something. Anything to keep you focused on the job."

"How's that supposed to help?" Miranda snarled, her brow and face furrowing into an angry grimace.

"Look, you're not the only one feeling this way, okay?" Jacob said, leaning toward her, "Tensions are running high. We haven't gone on a real mission in weeks now. It's just stress and boredom, Miranda, trust me. I've had my fair share of both."

"Sure," She said and without another word, she headed for the elevator.


"How did it go?" Kelly asked her without looking up from her computer screen.

"You set that up," Miranda said, a hint of anger creeping into her voice.

"Excuse me?" Kelly asked, confused.

"Shepard and sending me to Garrus," Miranda sighed, "You set it up, didn't you?"

"Of course," Kelly said quietly, "I figured if you talked to someone you respected who had experienced something similar it might help you work through it, of course you'd never admit you respect Garrus so I had to get someone you would admit you respect to suggest it to you."

Miranda said nothing, she simply fell back against the couch and smiled.

"You're not the only one who can manipulate people, Miranda," Kelly laughed slightly, "Plus it even got you to consider alternate options, talking to Thane was surprising, I thought you'd go straight to Jacob."

"Thane seemed to make sense, the Drell have a unique way of processing memories," Miranda explained, "I thought perhaps he'd be able to shed some light on how to process dreams."

"No such luck, huh?"

"Not really," Miranda sighed.

"You did good anyway, Miranda," Kelly nodded reassuringly.

"Are you..." Miranda cocked her head to the side, pausing mid-sentence, "Are you trying to evaluate me?"

"Of course," Kelly smiled broadly, "We all already know how strong, fast and skilled you are. How powerful your biotics can be. The only thing that hasn't ever been categorized in a report or studied by an expert with you is your emotional responses to outside stimuli. It's all very intriguing."

"That doesn't help me sleep, Kelly," Miranda sighed, propping her head up with her hand.

"We'll get to that," Kelly nodded slowly, looking up from her work, "In the meantime go to Chakwas. Get something to knock yourself out with, then come back here tomorrow and we'll continue your story, okay?"

Miranda stood up shakily, deep in thought. She was unused to this kind of direction, far too intimate and far too personal, she much preferred the Illusive Man's instructions.

"Okay, Kelly," She said quietly.


It was a tiny, simple thing, just a blip of information amongst thousands of terrabytes. A single, fragmented message among millions that passed through the net every day. Among the cluttered face of Miranda's office table the only thing that changed with it's arrival was a tiny blue dot appeared on the screen of her computer.

It was a message.

And it was only two words;

'ARCTYS LIVES'

A meter away, Miranda Lawson slept peacefully in her bed.