Disclaimer: Mass Effect and all its characters belong to Bioware.

Hellhound

Shepard had no idea how much that small action had affected Miranda.

She had been surprised enough that she had revealed that snippet of her past to him – though the fact she was a biotic was hardly a secret, the only other person she had ever openly discussed the nature of her exposure with was her old friend, Niket – but was even more surprised (and endeared) by the raw, nearly tangible emotion it had invoked in him. Not because she found it uncharacteristic of him, but because she was unaccustomed to others' sympathy (genuine or otherwise), courtesy of her normally icy and lofty demeanor.

When Shepard finally looked up from Miranda's hand to her face, he saw that an uncomfortable expression had spread across it. Miranda pulled away and Shepard quickly withdrew his hand from hers and squeezed it into a fist beside him.

Idiot.

Shepard looked to his side, away from Miranda, and suddenly realized how foolish he must've looked, practically naked save for his underpants and the three or four dozen markers spread out across his arms and chest. Inwardly, he imagined himself climbing into a very dark, deserted hole.

An awkward silence hung in the air as Miranda continued placing the markers, and with each passing silent second Shepard felt like somehow she was moving further out of his reach. How could anything he ever say be insightful or witty or funny enough before a woman who was so…perfect?

Shepard felt his chest tighten and, had he not had his eyes squeezed shut in frustration and had Miranda not been working on his back, one of them might've noticed the brief, bright illumination of its markers.

"Right," Miranda started once she had finished, "so from here the process is straightforward enough: copy the motions of the figure that comes up on the display. The markers will record the subsequent dark energy output and forward the data wirelessly to that terminal. Once we have a basic idea of what we're working with, we'll be able to start developing an individualized regimen of physical mnemonics."

"Basic idea?"

"Yes. Today's test will be relatively simple; it'll provide us with, metaphorically, the pieces of a larger puzzle with multiple solutions. In future tests, which will be conducted by Dr. Zarnow, you'll effectively experiment with different combinations of those pieces and the sequence in which you put them together."

"So you won't be there with me?" Shepard tried to sound as aloof as possible.

"I'm afraid not. These last few days have been something of an exception, John. While I remain directly responsible for your practical biotic training, Dr. Zarnow will be the one collecting the data and running the numbers. Outside Cerberus operatives will also be training you in hand-to-hand combat, weapons proficiency, physical fitness, infiltration, sabotage, seduction, and the like."

Seduction? Shepard blushed.

"They'll cover that particular problem in deception." Miranda stood and headed for the door. "If you'll excuse me, I need to make a phone call. I'll be back in…" she glanced down at her omnitool. "Forty minutes. You should be done by then."

Miranda activated the door console, causing it to hiss open and let streams of harsh, fluorescent light invade the room. Shepard squinted and watched Miranda's figure cross the threshold before the door snapped back shut, leaving him sitting alone in the dark.

Miranda returned, like clockwork, in precisely forty minutes.

"Ready?" she asked, standing in the doorway.

Shepard finished pulling on his shirt and took off a couple of markers on his arms he had missed, dropping them into a nearby tin. "Yeah," he said, jumping down from the chair. As soon as he had landed on his feet, Miranda turned and began her brisk walk down the white corridor to the elevator.

Shepard trailed behind her, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyes looking down near the floor, watching Miranda's heels click rhythmically against the metal surface. Though he knew his efforts were likely in vain, he was trying nevertheless to guess what she was thinking. What had she thought when he had reached out to her? What was she thinking now as they wait in the elevator?

Was it maybe about him?

Shepard twisted his face into a grimace at his arrant self-obsession. What he ought to be worried about, he told himself, was what the repercussions of his momentary lapse in judgment would be. Would he be switched over to a new handler? Would the entire program be shut down? Would the new life he was starting fall apart as quickly as his old one had been destroyed?

It was Miranda's voice that finally freed him from his paranoid contemplations. Her eyes never leaving the road, she spoke: "I'm afraid an assignment has come up that I have to leave for once I drop you off back at the apartment."

Shepard lifted his head and looked over to her. "An assignment for Cerberus?"

Miranda ignored his question and continued. "I've contacted a friend to watch over you in the meantime. I should be back later ton—"

"Wait a minute. You got me a babysitter?" Shepard's voice was incredulous.

Miranda looked at Shepard with a cold, patronizing stare. "I don't have time for any teenage rebellion, Shepard."

Shepard? She must be angry. Was it his questioning her? Doubtful, as she had been obliging enough thus far in answering whatever questions he had. That left her 'assignment' and what happened back at Zarnow's.

Again, idiot.

"Fine. Here's me pocketing any plans for violent overthrow." As always, Miranda's treating him like a child put him into an ill-humored mood. Shepard leaned back and sighed. "So who is it? Your friend, I mean."

"His name's Niket. He's one of few people I would even call a friend, and one of fewer still I would say I trust." Shepard noticed Miranda seemed to thaw somewhat as she spoke about this 'Niket.' He felt his chest tighten and his blood start rushing to his head at her subtle change.

"He's also unaware of my affiliation with Cerberus, and I would prefer to keep it that way." Miranda gave Shepard a dire look.

"My lips are sealed," Shepard said sarcastically.

Miranda was readying herself to berate him when they arrived at the apartment towers. "Let's go," she said more forcefully than usual.

Shepard stepped out of the aircar and went to the penthouse elevator. "When's he getting here?"

"He already is here."

"What? How'd he get in the apartment?" Shepard slowed down as he spoke the second half of the sentence, careful not to say 'our' apartment.

Miranda scoffed. "Using the codes, I would guess."

"He has the codes? I live here and I don't even have the codes," Shepard retorted angrily. Miranda ignored him again. "I can already tell I don't like him," he muttered bitterly.

Miranda looked at Shepard with an exasperated look on her face. "Stop being ridiculous, John. He's only here-"

Shepard cut Miranda off. "I'm being ridiculous? I'm not the one—"

Miranda cut him off in turn and hissed back: "You are being ridiculous. If you'd stop acting like such a damn child—"

"Stop calling me a child! You're only four years older than me – hardly old enough to get so high and mi—"

The elevator doors opened, and Miranda and Shepard stopped their shushed bickering when they heard a low, gruff voice call out across the apartment.

"Miri?"

Miranda looked back at John with one last look that very clearly said 'behave.'

Shepard rolled his eyes but still followed her into the apartment.

"Niket! I see you made it here well." Miranda's demeanor visibly brightened as she leaned forward to give the man a kiss on either cheek. As if that action itself weren't enough to sour Shepard's mood, Shepard could see the man's hand resting lightly against Miranda's hip.

"Please, Miri. I've been here dozens of times before."

Dozens? Shepard bit his tongue as he tried to maintain a composed face.

"And you must be John!" Niket turned to Shepard and held out his hand.

Shepard instinctively straightened his back, reaching his full 6'0'' height, and puffed out his chest. In the corner of his eye he could see Miranda raise one hand to her temple and shake her head.

"Wow, they grow them big in Mindoir, huh?" Niket started. "…And strong," he added as Shepard shook his hand, gripping more tightly than necessary.

"City-dwellers always are considerably more….effete than those of us who grow up in the colonies," Shepard said, his eyes boring into Niket. Niket looked back at Miranda leerily.

Miranda walked over to where Shepard stood, gripped his shoulder, and pulled him away from Niket. "It's a side effect of his surgery."

"The new L3, right?" Niket looked at Shepard.

Shepard, still held back by Miranda, managed to hold his tongue. "Right."

Miranda sighed in relief. "Well, now that that's taken care of, I really have to get going. Niket." Shepard crossed his arms as Niket gave Miranda a kiss on either cheek, again. "John." Miranda turned to Shepard and put one hand on his arm. She leaned forward, kissed him on his left cheek, and whispered into his ear, "Try to behave…" she kissed him on his right cheek and whispered (rather threateningly) into his other ear, "Ok?"

"I will if he does."

Miranda shook her head one last time. "So I'll be back later tonight. And thank you again, Niket. I know it was very last minute."

"It's no problem, Miri. What're friends for?" Niket smiled and Miranda smiled back.

Shepard fought the urge to gag.

The three said their good-byes and Niket and Shepard stood side-by-side as they watched Miranda leave through the elevator.

Once she had gone, Niket clapped a hand against Shepard's back and said: "What a woman, eh John?"

Shepard, totally silent, glared at the man's face and then the hand he held against Shepard's back. Niket took his hand off Shepard warily and put it into his pocket.

"So…what's your relationship to Miri exactly?" Niket asked.

"Whatever she told you it is," Shepard responded bluntly. He and Niket were still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"Uhh, right. A relative of a colleague, was it?"

"Sounds about right." Shepard kept staring down at Niket, who was a good 4-5 inches shorter than him.

"Right."

Shepard, thirsty and willing to give the man – who, ostensibly, hadn't actually done anything wrong – a slight break, headed towards the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"Water's fine," Niket called back in a relieved voice.

Shepard came back with two glasses and a pitcher of water, walked down the three stairs to the recessed area of the apartment in front of the wall display, and put his load down on the glass table. He took a seat on one of the black leather couches, and Niket took a seat on the other.

After a few moments' silence, Niket spoke up. "Look, John. I heard about what happened on Mindoir and I just wanted to say…I'm so sorry."

As hard as Shepard wanted to be angry with Niket and as hard as he wanted to believe that his condolences were nothing but artificial, he couldn't. The man, thus far, had seemed like an actually decent guy.

"Thanks."

"Were you there? The night that it…you know…"

Shepard looked down into his glass. "Yeah."

"…your family?" Shepard was irritated by the man's concern. His, after all, was not the concern he longed for.

"Dead." Shepard leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "My mom, dad, sister…"

"I can't even imagine. You didn't see them…killed, did you?"

"I…" Shepard wasn't sure why he was allowing himself to talk so freely with Niket. He was supposed to hate him. Niket was supposed to be his competition.

But, for the first time in days, he actually felt like he could talk about what happened.

He had pushed the events of that night so far out of his head, Mindoir really did seem like a different life, and now he was slowly trying to join them with his current reality.

"My parents…yeah. But my sister Izzy…all I saw was her taken away." Shepard covered his face with his hand and let out a hollow, pained laugh. "I don't even know if she's really dead."

Niket was silent as Shepard regained his composure. "You know, she may not seem the type, but you should considering talking to Miri about this."

Shepard took a deep breath, took his hand from his face, and looked across the table to Niket. "Why do you say that?"

"Miri…well, it's really not my place to give all the details but she also had a sister taken from her. Kidnapped and probably held for ransom because her father is one of the richest men alive. They never found out what happened to her, though that's not to say her father ever stopped looking."

"A sister?"

"Oriana, yeah," Niket said, more to himself than to Shepard. "God, I saw her when she was just a few months old. She was beautiful, John. Really beautiful. And you know what? I've never seen Miri as happy as she was those two years they had her."

Shepard smiled at the idea. "Somehow I just can't really picture Miranda that way."

Niket looked over at Shepard. "Miri can be…cold, I know."

"That's an understatement," Shepard said jokingly.

Niket smiled now that Shepard was opening up a bit. "I take it you've seen her angry?"

"Briefly. Maybe more annoyed than angry, too."

Niket grinned. "Then you ought to be grateful."

Shepard grinned back. "I don't doubt it."

Once the moment had passed, Niket settled back into the couch and sighed. "Miri can be cold and she can even seem unfeeling but…growing up the way she did, she really did need some kind of defense mechanism. And that's hers."

"So what did you have to do to get past it?"

"Honestly? Sometimes I'm not even sure I have."

"Bullshit," Shepard said. "I haven't seen her smile once the entire time I've been here. That is, until she talked to you today."

"Miri's an expert at wearing masks, John. That was probably just a different one."

Shepard leaned his head back and groaned. "Miranda Lawson. How does she not drive you crazy?"

"Believe me," Niket laughed, "she does."

When Miranda returned to the apartment, it was to the sound of 'Enkindle THIS!' being played over the penthouse surround sound followed shortly thereafter by Niket and Shepard's uproarious laughter.

She walked alongside the staircase with a curious look on her face and, when she finally turned into the main area, saw the two sprawled across the couches, drinking, finishing off their second extra-large pizza, and watching a hanar strangle a krogan to death with its tentacles.

"Is that..." she started, looking at the empty cans.

"What?" Niket turned around and followed her glance to the table. "C'mon Miri, it was two drinks. Adult supervision, right? Plus, look at this kid. He's built like a tank!"

Miranda was unimpressed.

Shepard leaned his head back over the edge of the couch so that he could see Miranda, albeit upside down. "How was uhh…work?"

"Fine, thank you. Niket, you can go."

"You sure, Miri? I can help clean up." Niket, sensing Miranda's nascent anger, made his offer halfhearted at best.

"That's quite alright. I'm sure John will be more than willing to handle it."

Shepard sat up and turned around. "Actually, I wouldn't mind—" Miranda glared at him and Shepard promptly shut his mouth.

"Right, then…I think I'm going to go. It was nice seeing you Miri."

"Likewise." Niket waited around awkwardly, wondering whether or not he and Miranda would share their habitual cheek-kissing goodbye. Apparently not.

"Ok. So I'm going." Niket was about to leave when he turned to Shepard. "You've got my e-mail?"

"Right here."

Miranda glared.

Niket, not wanting to push his luck, nodded his head once at Miranda and made a beeline for the elevator. Once he had left, Miranda turned back to where Shepard sat on the couch.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Nothing." Miranda had started to sigh when she suddenly took a very sharp breath.

Shepard stood up and walked towards her. "Miranda? What is it?"

"Just help me get out of this jacket, would you?" Shepard nodded and Miranda turned around.

"What the hell Miranda?" Shepard noticed numerous small holes that had ripped through the leather jacket and the profuse blood that was caked onto it. "Why didn't you tell us about this once you got here?"

"I told you, Niket doesn't know I'm Cerberus." Shepard carefully pulled back one sleeve, trying to minimize Miranda's pain. She refused to give any hint to what she was feeling though, so Shepard had to guess based on how she tensed up her body.

Shepard finally managed to get the jacket off and let it drop to the floor. Underneath, Miranda was wearing a tight, long-sleeve gray shirt whose back was thoroughly soaked in blood.

"Take this." Miranda held a knife back over her shoulder for Shepard. "Cut off my shirt."

Shepard, feeling the urgency of the situation, forgot any nervousness. He took the knife and cut straight through the shirt, from the neck to the tailbone. He peeled the shirt away from her skin and grimaced at the sight of her mauled back.

"There's alcohol under the sink and gauze in the medicine cabinet." Shepard was about to make his way to the kitchen when he noticed Miranda slump and nearly lose balance.

"C'mon, you need to sit."

"I'm fine," she said stubbornly.

"Yeah, well consider it a personal favor." Unsure how else to hold her, Shepard put his hands on Miranda's hips and steered her to a stool near the vista.

Once she was seated, Shepard jogged over to the kitchen and grabbed his supplies. He returned to Miranda, and took a piece of gauze in one hand, put it over the opened bottle of alcohol, and flipped the bottle upside down. Once he felt the moisture seeping through the gauze to his hand, he flipped it back upright and rested it on the nearby table. He started wiping some of the blood away, revealing the shrapnel embedded in her skin. Miranda hissed out in pain.

"Sorry! It's just I can't see anything."

"Just get it done, John!" Shepard was briefly distracted as he contemplated whether or not he should take it as a good thing that they were back on a mutual first-name basis.

"Ok, I think I'm good."

Miranda grabbed the knife Shepard had laid on the table and held it out. "Then dig them out."

"Shouldn't I disinfect this or something?" he asked, taking the knife.

"Look, the medigel can handle all of that. But what it can't do is dig the shrapnel out of my goddamned skin. And please God tell me you're not buzzed."

"No, but thanks for the vote of confidence. Ready?"

"Wait. Grab me one of your shirts, would you?"

"I don't think—"

"Just do it, John." Shepard sprinted to his room, returned with a shirt, and handed it to Miranda. She folded it over, twisted it, and put it between her teeth.

"Ready?" Miranda turned her head to the side and glared at Shepard, who was standing behind her.

Shepard looked down at her back, readied his knife, and started prying the shrapnel from Miranda's back. He could hear her grunt and see her back tense. He pulled out the first bloody piece, caught it in his left hand, and dropped it into a bowl he had brought to the table. Miranda's breathing had already grown heavier.

"One down," Shepard said. Only about two dozen to go.

An hour later, the small bowl was nearly full and Shepard had applied medigel to the better part of Miranda's back.

"Can you lift your arms a little?" Shepard asked.

Miranda did, allowing Shepard to loop the dressing around her midsection and then around the last exposed section of her still bloodied back.

"I think we're good." Shepard stepped back and cracked his neck. "Want me to get one of your shirts?"

"It'd be easier if you just give me one of your button ups."

"Yeah, sure." Shepard disappeared briefly into his room before emerging again. "You wanna tell me what happened tonight?" he asked, handing her the shirt.

"Last night, actually."

Shepard kept looking straight at Miranda who realized she wouldn't be able to change the subject. But that didn't mean she couldn't simply avoid it.

"It was an assignment for Cerberus. That's all you need to know and all you're going to know."

Shepard walked around to the other side of the table and sat down. "Just one of Miranda Lawson's many secrets."

"Everyone has their secrets, John."

"Mmhmm. And some more than others."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you want to ask me?"

Shepard sighed and hauled himself up. "Not tonight, no. Can I help you get to bed?" Shepard deliberately phrased the question as though it was him asking for a favor instead of offering his help (which, he noticed, Miranda was rarely keen on taking).

"Yes, you can." Shepard held Miranda's arm in his hand and walked with her across the apartment. When they reached the stairs, he kept behind her, worried that she might fall. Once she arrived at the top, he held back, and watched her make her way to her bed. Still standing on the stairs, he crossed his arms on top of the railing surrounding her room, which was open to, though elevated from, the rest of the apartment.

Almost as soon as Miranda's head touched her pillow, the raven-haired beauty fell asleep. Shepard smiled to himself.

"Sweet dreams, Miranda."

Shepard wanted to ask her about her sister, but that would have to wait. For now, he would sleep.