Rhi couldn't believe she hadn't realized that Joker was carrying a hefty helping of survivor's guilt. Idiot. Of course he would be. She kicked herself for letting him stew, replaying past conversations, suddenly afraid that what she thought had been genuine friendship had just been a sort of penance.

Damn Kelly Chambers. What was she going to do about her?

It had been too many revelations for one night. She would have liked a good brawl to clear her head; failing that, a long walk that didn't involve doing laps around the Normandy. Or at least a little time to think.

Instead, she was going to a party.

After talking with Joker, Shepard had gone straight to bed, vowing to sort out everything in the morning. She'd slept deeply as soon as she hit the sheets – for all of two hours. She'd awoken abruptly to the sound of EDI's voice. It was a harsher awakening than Joker's had been just hours before.

Of course, she hadn't been pleasantly dreaming of the AI. That may have had something to do with it.

They'd left the Alchera system with plenty of time to reach Bekenstein and the party Kasumi Goto was determined to infiltrate, but fate, luck, or sheer bloody coincidence had determined otherwise. Mercer had picked up a distress beacon, and the Normandy was en route to check it out. Answering an SOS always took priority. Space was too big to hope someone else would come along, and it might be your ship crying for help next time. Hell, it had been her ship, once.

The beacon came from a wreck on an inhospitable dirt ball, and after just barely managing to get to the damn thing, they'd had to fight their way back to the shuttle through a small army of malfunctioning mechs. She'd returned to the Normandy with nothing to show for their detour but the ship's black-box, and they'd had to haul ass to Bekenstein to make up for lost time.

She'd been headed back to bed when Kasumi and Chakwas cornered her. Apparently getting ready for a party was more important than sleep.

This is ridiculous.

Shepard was sitting in the middle of her quarters in the dress Kasumi had bought, trying to pretend the thing didn't make her uncomfortable as hell, while the ship's surgeon did mysterious things to her hair. She'd spent the first five minutes trying to catch her reflection in the fish tank, before admitting the back-lighting made it hopeless. Then she'd read her cover-story. Twice.

It's like a spy vid, she thought. They always end up at improbably fancy parties. She'd had a few friends in Intelligence over the years, and they'd assured her that real espionage looked a lot like paperwork.

"I know! We need some music!"

Kasumi's voice was chipper, but her body betrayed her nervousness. The upcoming mission was her chance to recover the last memories of her dead partner, and for all her light-hearted way of speaking, she clearly cared a great deal. She'd been moving ceaselessly. Now she darted behind Shepard's back, towards the sound-system.

Rhi turned her head to warn Kasumi, "Turn the vol –"

"Keep still!" Chakwas chided her.

A booming thunder of bass and dual drum kits shook the cabin. Chakwas and Kasumi jumped.

"I usually turn it up slowly." Rhi said mildly.

"WHAT?" The doctor yelled.

Kasumi slapped wildly at the sound-system controls, and silence descended. "Whew. I expected something more…" she looked at Shepard, who had uncrossed her legs again, and shook her head. "I'm not sure what I expected. Legs, Shep!"

Rhi pulled her knees together. Whoever dreamt up clothing that requires constant attention just to wear should be shot. Her armor didn't require this much training, and it had a full VI. The dress limited her actions instead of expanding them. Armor won any day. It's a really pretty blue, too.

"Okay, no music then," Kasumi sighed.

"I was enjoying it," Rhi muttered.

The thief did another lap. Rhi's head twitched involuntarily, trying to keep her in her field of view, and Chakwas snapped, "Ms. Goto, stay where the commander can see you before we are all driven crazy."

Kasumi startled, then settled down cross-legged on the deck matting well within Shepard's line of sight.

"That's better," Chakwas declared as the tension left Shepard's shoulders. "I think we've almost got it."

"It's just hair," grumbled Rhi. A lock was tickling the side of her face. When she moved to brush it away, Chakwas batted at her hand.

"Really, Commander. You have lovely hair. Why keep it long if you're not going to do something with it once in awhile?"

How is a bun not 'doing something with it'? It's something. "After I enlisted and could rely on a shower every day, the shaved-head thing lost its appeal." Her hair had also hidden the old gang tattoo over her left ear, but the doctor didn't need to know that. The tattoo wasn't there anymore, anyway. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Must not be important, then.

Kasumi looked up from whatever she'd been contemplating on her omnitool. "You used to have the same hairstyle as Jack?"

Rhi decided not to point out that it was really more of a lack-of-hair style. "Mmhm. Jack says was a cult thing. For me it was just parasite-prevention chic."

Jack. The biotic had been keeping a truce of sorts with Miranda after their spat, but it seemed to be fraying. She needed to win her, to connect somehow, or else risk the deadly confrontation Chambers had predicted. Another thing on the to-do list. If Kelly gave me reports like that instead of saying that everyone needs a fucking hug, she might actually be useful. Creepy as hell, but useful.

" Oh, that's a holo I want to see!" Kasumi was practically bouncing.

Rhi snorted. "Good luck. Don't think any exist." Thankfully.

"Speaking of holos..." the doctor turned to the two on the table. The first had been captured on the Citadel, just after the defeat of Sovereign. Shepard was standing on a pile of rubble, eyes lifted to some distant goal – I was probably thinking of getting back to the Normandy and taking a shower – armor scorched but unbroken. Triumphant. Yup. Definitely thinking about a shower.

The other image showed a much younger (and cleaner) Rhi Shepard, in crisp dress blues, receiving the Star of Terra.

Chakwas nodded to herself. "Between the context, the fashion, and the small fact that you are supposed to be dead, I don't think anyone will recognize you, commander. You were wearing a helmet in the image they used for recruitment, and the Blitz was nine years ago." She clucked. "Humans have such woefully short attention spans."

"Sorry," Rhi dead-panned, "short what? I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh honestly, commander," Chakwas chuckled. "Here, go look in the mirror. I'm finished."

She leaned over to fasten the straps on the awful shoes, causing Kasumi to cover her face in her hands.

"Y'know, doc, you seem pretty adept at this cloak-and-dagger stuff," she said as she walked (carefully) to the head, "You should go to the party."

"Nonsense, commander," Chakwas said. "Just relax, and you'll be fine. By the by, Kasumi said a side-arm would not be out of place, but we agree that even the predator is rather, crude."

"Any other ideas?" Shepard was distracted by her own reflection. A few wavy locks of hair framed her face, softening her cheekbones. The rest was pinned up in an artlessly tousled look. She wasn't sold on any of it, but as long as she could twist it back quickly in a fight she wouldn't complain.

She stalked back out. The dress would get a reprieve. She was going after the bastard who invented heels, first. "I'm not entering that den unarmed."

"Of course not." Chakwas had a decidedly devious smile. "I have something you can borrow that should do."

The petite pistol the doctor handed her practically oozed credits. Shepard hefted it; it was reassuringly solid for all its small size. Chakwas was a superb shot; anything she chose would be functional as well as elegant.

"Damn," Rhi murmured, "this is the first part of this mission I like. It's beautiful. But where...?" She looked down at herself in uncertainty. The dress fit tightly from the high collar down to her hips, with a slight… interruption… to show cleavage, which was deeply unnerving. Rhi had never had cleavage in her life, and she damn well would have noticed if Cerberus had made any additions in the boob department.

Besides, Miranda would never do it. She hates competition.

No, it had to be some impressive structural engineering on the part of the dress-maker. It must be pulling fat from my ass. Which would explain why it's so uncomfortable. In light of her new respect for its abilities, she grudgingly upgraded the dress from "inconvenient non-combatant" to "adversary."

Impressive feats of chest manipulation aside, it didn't leave anywhere for a concealed gun.

She looked up in time to see Kasumi exchange a look with the doctor, who passed over a tangle of black leather straps with a slightly sheepish expression. Shepard looked at them in confusion until Chakwas demonstrated the correct placement of the thigh holster with surprisingly experienced hands.

"Fuck," she sighed, "I really am in an action vid, aren't I?"

–––

Joker stretched in his chair, watching the bright lights of Bekenstein spin below them. Join the navy! See interesting places – from 900 kilometers up.

He was in an odd mood.

He kept going back to the guilt he should feel, the certainty that Shepard blamed him for her death, and finding it wasn't there. Like obsessively poking at the place where a tooth had been. Shepard's assurances had lifted a weight from his heart, but the weight had been there long enough to leave a dent.

He'd slept through the detour to the wreck, and had seen Shepard only briefly before she closeted herself (with Kasumi and Chakwas, of all people) to prepare for Goto's mission. Or heist, or whatever it is.

It didn't help that Kelly Chambers was sitting next to him. Since he hadn't heard anything about how Shepard planned to deal with the spy in their midst, he had to pretend he didn't know anything about her night-time reports to the Illusive Man. It did help that he'd never been particularly friendly to her to begin with. Ha! My facade of irritability will hide my deep-seated… irritability. I am a super spy.

He had spies on the brain.

Most of the crew were enjoying a brief liberty on one of Bekenstein's orbital stations, so there weren't many around to hear Shepard order the hangar and engineering decks cleared of personnel during shuttle take-off.

Oh, come on, commander, that's like saying 'don't push the red button'. He pulled up the hangar feed just as Shepard and Goto exited the elevator.

His jaw dropped.

Whoa.

No wonder she'd ordered the deck cleared.

The dress was form-fitting, black, and moved like leather. Her hair was partially down, thick waves brushing one cheek. High heels emphasized every line of muscle in her long brown legs.

She looked awful.

It wasn't that the dress couldn't have been drop-dead sexy, or that the heels didn't do absolutely mind-boggling things to her ass. Her body was amazing, but... he cringed in empathetic embarrassment. Shepard, so fluid on the battlefield, so confident in her physicality in the gym, looked uncomfortable and awkward. She'd been sexier in her PJs.

Actually, she was hellah hawt in her PJs. It was usually just a little bit cold on the command deck, to keep everyone alert. When Shepard had shown up last night in a thin tank-top he'd decided he'd never complain about the temperature again.

"What's that?" Kelly had been lost in a data pad, but now she leaned forward to see what he was looking at. He moved his hand to cover the screen, but not fast enough.

"Oh, dear." The normally perky red-head sounded despondent.

"Yeah."

"She's walking way too fast to pull that look off. Which is her channel?"

She'd have her earpiece, even unarmored – the tiny disc stuck to the inside of her tragus was invisible. Still, he suspected that advice from Kelly Chambers was the last thing the commander needed to hear right now.

"Shit no, Chambers, you'll only make it worse. Believe me, she's uncomfortable now. She is not going to like that we're watching."

"You're right." Chambers looked at him as if he'd sprouted horns.

Yeah, yeah, I don't like makin' nice to people, that doesn't mean I don't pay attention. Especially to the commander.

"Okay," she said decisively, "Give me Kasumi."

"Chambers..."

"Jeff. You do your job well. Let me do mine."

Reluctantly, he opened Kasumi's channel. Chambers leaned toward the console when she talked, as if she was in the room with the thief and sharing girly secrets. It was kinda funny. Her advice was good, though.

"Kasumi, hang back a minute. That's good. Now, you need to coach Shepard –"

"I've been trying," the thief answered with a note of desperation, "but whenever I say anything she thinks about it more and then she gets worse."

"It's okay, we can work with this! Ignore the specifics – those will take care of themselves. Just, hmm... I know. Tell her to think of negotiating with Aria. Or, Hock's guests are just a gang of thugs and she's walking into their territory. They're wearing fancier clothes than normal, is all."

Kelly was positively enthusiastic; she'd really warmed to the challenge. I suppose there aren't a lot of opportunities to practice tactical psychology, Joker mused.

Kasumi catch up to Shepard and say something. When the two women started walking towards the shuttle again, Shepard's shoulders were back and she had a confident saunter. She looked a hundred times better.

She'd always look wrong in strappy heels, though.

Chambers smiled, pleased with herself. "You can't let thugs see your fear. The commander knows that in her bones; you can see it whenever she's on Omega."

Joker didn't want to give her any credit, but her advice had worked. Still... "Shit. I hope Goto's cover story gives her a reason for dem arms." Shepard wasn't body-builder-bulky, but she had the kind of physique you could only get when physical activity was your livelihood and punching the shit out of things was your favorite form of stress-relief. That kind of muscle was enough to turn any human's head. It's certainly turning mine.

"She's supposed to be a mercenary leader – the hands-on type. It's perfect. Kasumi is very clever."

Suspicion welled up. "How'd you know?"

"I asked, silly." Kelly twinkled at him.

He grumbled a non-response and settled down to wait.

–––

Joker breathed a sigh of relief as Shepard activated her helmet's communications suite, giving him a full view of the entrance to Hock's vault. The hours spent out of contact had worn on him, even though he knew that they'd have radioed if things went badly.

"Everyone okay down there?"

"Kasumi won't let me steal anything," Shepard pouted.

Joker was dumbfounded for a moment. "Uh, commander, you sure you guys didn't just exchange scripts there? I'm pretty sure that line was supposed to go the other way 'round."

"I resent that," Kasumi muttered. "I have some discrimination."

"I have discrimination," Shepard retorted, "I didn't like any of the people up there. Very discriminating. We should have taken their stuff."

Goto didn't reply. She was focused on her omnitool, working on the last barrier before the vault. There was a hiss as the doors slid open. "Yatta!" she said, quietly. "We're in."

Shepard gave the statue of Saren one last look, then spat between his feet and followed Kasumi out the door.

"Hey, Commander, impressive." Joker noticed Kelly's look. "I mean, it would have been when I was twelve. I'm totally more mature now. Stop looking at me like that."

"Shh," She hissed at him, "I'm listening."

"They're not saying anything."

Kasumi was wandering the vault, wide-eyed, obviously impressed.

Shepard sounded less so. "Damn, look at all this stuff."

"He has excellent taste."

"Coulda fooled me. What's the point of it all, anyway?" Shepard had paused in front of a piece of metal that looked to Joker like something out of a quarian's scrap bin. "He doesn't even show it to anyone. What's he do, come down here and jerk off?"

Joker guffawed. "Better not touch anything, commander. Be on the safe side."

"I can't take you anywhere," Goto sighed.

"I've been trying to convince you of that for weeks, and now you get it? A little late, Kasumi." They'd moved on to a statue of a rachni. "Now that brings back memories. Want one for the crew deck, Joker?"

"Thanks but no. I'd be expecting it to spawn little explode-y statues any minute."

They turned to peruse another row of displays, and Shepard's camera fell on a sub-machine gun.

"Can I take that?"

"Yes!" Kasumi was ignoring her, intent on a tiny piece of hardware that had been sitting beside the weapon. "My god. There it is – his grey-box. We've found it."

As the thief delicately lifted the device from its pedestal, Donovan Hock's image sprang into being in the middle of the room, larger than life and twice as ugly.

"Shit," said Joker. Hock was talking, preening for having outwitted the master thief. "He's like a villain in a bad vid."

"Story of my life," Shepard murmured back, "Let's hope he makes the same mistakes."

Her pistol shot shattered the priceless sculpture next to her, and all hell broke loose.

"EDI! Get in their system, find them a floor-plan." Shepard and Kasumi were everywhere at once, cutting down Hock's goons before they knew what hit them. They'd be ready to make their escape soon, and he needed to be ready for them. "Somewhere the shuttle can land."

He was putting the Normandy in position for the drop when Shepard radioed for the shuttle. "Hear that, Mercer? Kodiak, now!"

"All fired up, sir!"

EDI broke in. "Mr. Moreau, readings from the mansion indicate anti-aircraft installations."

"What the shit? It's a god-damned house!" He skimmed the data. Hock's estate had lit up like a New Vegas casino as soon as Shepard started shooting, and amid the countless paranoid security measures there were two turrets aimed at the sky-way. Shit. "Mercer, belay that! Up here on the double, you have the Normandy."

"Sir?"

He was already out of his chair and moving for the elevator.

–––

Shepard squeezed off another round at the gunship, cursing. "Why'd you pick a fight with this paranoid bastard?"

"Is it really paranoid if we are out to get him?" Kasumi quipped back. Her humor sounded brittle. They'd already fought their way through more than two people could realistically hope to overcome. The YMIR mechs had been bad enough. The gunship was the cherry on top.

She had to admit they were doing damn well, though. Between Kasumi's tactical cloak and her own biotics, they were almost never where their enemy expected them to be. They'd left a trail of hapless mercs who'd been carefully aiming down the corridor when the thief stabbed them in the back or Shepard appeared in front of their face with a shotgun and a shoulder to the solar plexus. Poor sods. Thought they drew light-duty guarding the rich asshole's baubles.

She sprayed the ship with fire, thankful for the longer range on her new stolen toy. If she could just bring the shields down – bingo. Quicker than thought, Goto was in the air, landing on the gunship itself and permanently disabling its shields.

Shepard hadn't taken the thief out on many missions; her highly specialized skill set hadn't seemed useful in a firefight. She was reconsidering that now. However high-brow Goto might be about her 'calling', somewhere she'd learned to fight, and fight dirty. Shepard sensed a story Kasumi wasn't telling.

She heard the sound of the approaching shuttle just as a careful shot finally took out the gunship, and she cursed again when the welcome hum was covered by the unmistakable sound of turret fire.

Shepard ran for the edge of the platform, hoping they were within her range, knowing she'd never make it, and saw the kodiak narrowly avoid a missile. Fuck, Mercer, that's cutting it close! The shuttle twisted around; soon it would be in range of the second turret's sensors. Sure enough, a flash lit up its muzzle. Shepard's heart clenched, sure that she was watching Mercer's death and totally unable to do anything about it. Time seemed to slow.

In the moment before impact, the kodiak's drives went dark, the fire of thrusters and the tell-tale hum of mass-effect drives disappearing entirely. For a split-second it seemed to hang impossibly in the air, then gravity reasserted itself and the shuttle plummeted towards the waves below.

The missile from the second turret flew through the space it had been and hit the first turret, which went up in a blaze of fire.

Shepard reached the edge of the platform just in time to see the kodiak's drives fire up again, so close it kissed the waves before the mass-effect field came fully online and told gravity to go fuck itself. She whooped as it rose from the water, hatch already opening to welcome them in. She didn't wait for it to touch down.

Kasumi jumped in lightly after her. "Wow! I thought Mercer was a goner for a moment, there."

Shepard thumped the bulkhead between cabin and cockpit. "That wasn't Mercer," she said, chuckling. "Can't you tell?"

"Aww, commander, you noticed!" Joker's smug voice confirmed.

The thief was already lost in the contents of the grey-box, reliving memories.

–––

Joker limped out of the shuttle cockpit looking inordinately pleased with himself. "I have to admit, commander, Mercer's right," he shook his head ruefully, "The kodiak's really a bear."

Shepard was about to say something about docking his pay for every bad pun, but was interrupted by the sight of a very angry Miranda Lawson bearing down on her. The crew had returned from liberty minus one. Jack was in the station's jail. Rhi shared a long-suffering glance with her helmsman, who tossed off a cocky salute, and then went with Lawson to make sure the ex-con stayed ex.

A little smooth talking and a mind-boggling amount of credits saw all of them back at the Normandy.

"She was buying drugs, Shepard," Miranda's mouth twisted with distaste, "and bringing them aboard the ship."

Shepard raised an eyebrow at Jack. "That why you get yourself thrown in the clink?"

"Easiest way to find out who's selling," the biotic growled.

But not the cheapest, Shepard thought. Jack's bail had just cost the illusive man a lot of money. No wonder Lawson was pissed.

"What'd you buy, Jack?"

The shorter woman sneered at her, and Rhi barely contained her sigh. Jack made everything difficult.

"Jack, I'll say this once. If you take Hallex, lsd, atropine, or any shit of that nature, I'll have you spaced before your drugged brain can figure out what's going on. You can ride out your bad trip in vacuum; I am not willing to put up with it."

"I don't do that hallucinogenic shit." Jack look startled. "How'd you know I'd trip bad?"

"I did," she answered. Miranda stared at her, and she explained dryly, "Psychedelics aren't generally a good idea for those of us with highly developed fight/flight responses."

She'd experimented with hallucinogens exactly once, in a locked room with a trusted friend. At the time, her conclusion was a little less clinical and a little more "Holy fuck, that shit will mess you up." Her friend had agreed, vehemently and with more imaginative cursing, as Rhi had stitched the gash she'd made in his face using a needle hastily cleaned in open flame.

Really, she'd come a long way since then.

"Fuck, it's just weed. Wasn't even what I was after."

Shepard held out her hand, palm up, and Jack grudgingly tossed her the bag. The commander pocketed it, and nodded dismissal. "We're done here. This was the first and only time I'm bailing you out, understood? Next time you get yourself locked up, you're staying there."

–––

It was late when Shepard ventured down to Jack's cave. She was exhausted, but the final confrontation with the gunship had left her full of adrenaline. Restless. The biotic was still awake, simmering.

"Whatcha want now, bitch?"

Rhi reached into her pocket, pulled out the bag she'd confiscated earlier, and tossed it back to Jack underhand. "Returning something of yours."

"The fuck? You take it just to play all clean-and-proper for the fucking cheerleader? 'Cause that's some pathetic shit right there, Shepard, some grade-A brown-nosed pathetic shit."

Jack never stopped moving. She paced, she slunk, she vaulted onto crates. Shepard didn't respond with anything but her eyes, leaning back against the wall with studied nonchalance.

"No. I took it to have Chakwas check it out. I don't want to have you all fucked up on some contaminated crap."

Jack stared at her through narrowed eyes as she fished a paper out of her pocket and started to roll one. Great, Rhi thought, that'll give the life support tech's something to look at when it gets in the air-filters.

There was silence as Jack finished, lit up, and took a long hit, then she rounded on Shepard in suspicion. "Why you still down here? You cut this with something? You poisoning me?"

Rhi shook her head, calmly, and held out one hand. It took Jack a moment to figure out what she was asking. Her brow was creased in confusion as she handed over the joint. "Why'd you bring it back if you're just gonna take it away ag –"

Rhi didn't say anything; just took a long drag and handed it back. Inside she was chuckling at Jack's apparent confusion.

Damn, that felt good.

She was almost always on edge since her revival, and that went double around Jack. The look of nonchalance was an act to keep things with the convict from escalating, and the act took a lot of self control. The drug hit her system as gentle relaxation, and she welcomed it.

Couldn't welcome too much more if it, or she wouldn't be useful, though.

Jack was still staring at her warily, joint loose in her hand. Shepard shook her head and regretfully released her mouthful of smoke to say, "Don't waste it. That tasted like the good stuff."

Jack nodded. "All the way from Earth." She shook off her confusion and retreated into anger. She always did, sooner or later. "You never said you did drugs."

"It was never relevant." Truth be told, she hadn't touched anything in years; she'd gone straight as soon as she hit boot camp and, aside from the very occasional toke with a few marine buddies on shore leave after particularly nasty tours, she hadn't looked back. She'd seen the ravages real drug use brought far too often. The time they'd had to haul the needle-marked corpse out of the house they'd been using would be burned in her mind forever. "Jack. You're not the only one who needs help chilling out. In the last 36 hours I've cussed at the illusive man, I've thrown a YMIR into a wall, and I've bailed your ungrateful tattooed ass out of jail... but I haven't actually slept."

Wordlessly, Jack passed it back.

Ironic, really, she thought as she took another hit. On the streets, she'd been far too concerned with survival to risk slowing her reaction time or altering her perceptions with drugs. She'd rubbed shoulders with dealers and runners, but it had taken the frustration – and safety – of a fancy upscale boarding school to get her to use anything. Shepard pulled herself away from her reminiscence with unusual difficulty, looking out of half-lidded eyes as she passed the joint back.

Jack was finally relaxing, her constant movement slowed. It was the closest to companionable they'd ever been.

And all it took was mind-altering substances.

Damn, Anderson wouldn't approve of her command technique this time. For once she was lucky he wasn't her boss. She didn't know much about The Illusive Man, but what she did know included chain-smoking and a constant supply of alcohol. He didn't seem like one to go halfway on his vices.

"I wonder what your big boss would think of this, Commander," Jack said. The rank came out as a sneer, but it didn't sound like her heart was in it.

Surprised, Shepard chuckled, then swore as the smoke escaped her. "I was just thinking he's probably snorting blow off the ass of an asari hooker or something." Damn, that chuckle had come perilously close to a giggle. Time to go to bed. "'Course, 'blatant hypocrisy' doesn't even measure up on his list of sins, so why give a shit?"

Jack almost cracked a grin at that.

It's a start, anyway. Another long, quiet moment passed before Shepard straightened up from the wall, yawning.

"Thanks, Jack," she said quietly.

Jack said "You're welcome," and then looked surprised that she'd said it. Shepard smiled to herself, then climbed the stairs back up to engineering. She'd sleep well tonight.

Miranda interrupted her while she was getting a snack on the way to her quarters.

One of the funny things about the human adrenal and endorphin systems was that, given the right panic situation, they could temporarily jump start the body despite any number of inebriants. Shepard felt her brain kick into overdrive through her comfortable haze. How much particulate is in the air down there? Did it already permeate my clothes? Can't chance her smelling my breath. Is this what having parents feels like? Does she recognize the smell? Miranda wouldn't use anything that lessens productivity - but she'd look for it in others, so of course she does. Pity, it'd probably be good for her. I wonder if we could lock her in her quarters and hotbox her cabin from life-support?

Shit. I've reached the silly stage.

"Can it wait 'till morning, Miranda?"

"I'll be brief, Shepard, I promise, it's just..." she was uncharacteristically flustered, "Do you miss Nessie?"

Shepard shrugged. "Do you miss your sister?"

"I..." Miranda looked taken aback. "Can you miss something you don't really know? I'm glad I talked to her. I'd like to talk to her again. But I never knew her."

Rhi nodded. "Exactly."

"But you knew each other before."

"Really?" She shrugged. " Miranda, when I knew Nessie, she was seven. I was sixteen. I kept her fed and safe for a bit under a year. Now she's a capable adult woman and despite having a pretty traumatic childhood, she seems to have managed a normal life. I'm glad of that." She smiled. "Really glad. But... I don't think I know her well enough to miss her."

"Oh. That's... that's how I feel. But I thought..."

You thought it might be something wrong with you, that you didn't feel anything. Rhi thought there was quite a lot wrong with Miranda; her feelings about Oriana seemed like one of the few places she was alright.

"Look, Lawson. You don't know her, so you don't miss her. Nothing strange about that. Be happy for what you gave her – you busted your ass so she could grow up with a life you never had." She was thinking about Ness, bleeding in her arms; another little girl who grew up to have a family and a decent life. "Believe me. She'll be fine, and you'll have time to know her later."

Miranda's seemed to have caught the unspoken parallel Shepard had drawn. "I suppose we do have something in common, after all."

"In that, at least." Rhi smiled at Miranda. "We done good, Lawson."

"We did well, Shepard," the operative corrected.

Rhi rolled her eyes and went up to bed.

author's note: Well, that was a long one. I hope it was half as much fun to read as it was to write.

Rhi's favorite ridiculous spy vids are Jane Bond (after 70-odd years of James, the franchise determined they needed to reboot for broader apeal, so Jane, his bastard daughter by one of the many bond-girls, followed in her father's footsteps. It worked well for awhile, but it really jumped the shark when they brought in time travel so she could fight with a computer generated young Sean Connery).

Come back in two weeks, when I'll either post the next chapter of the ongoing saga, or the whole thing will devolve into Rhi & Jack's Excellent Adventure, in which they get chewed out by Tali for making a bomb out of 'extra' parts of the Normandy.