Beta-read by Saberlin.

-J-

Jacob watched Shepard ease forward towards the door leading them one room closer to the shuttle bays. Ever since they teamed up, she had been getting more and more nervy—and the nervier she got, the more often she seemed to expect a bullet in the back. "Shepard, hang on a second."

Shepard stopped, lowered her pistol and stood sideways, presenting a narrow target.

Just like they taught you in basic. She could have modeled for a textbook. "If I tell you who we're working for," he nodded to indicate Wilson and himself, "will you trust us?"

"This really isn't the time, Taylor," Wilson interjected.

Jacob took Shepard's closed mouth and intense scrutiny for a mute declaration that until she knew who they were, where she was, and what they (herself included) were all doing here she would reserve judgment either way. "It's better she get it now, when I don't have to tell her, than let her get it later and look like I was hiding something."

Shepard's eyes snapped from him, to Wilson, then back. She must have thought she was being subtle. Well, when you'd been on a slab for two years, some things were bound to get rusty.

"All right. Let's have it," she nodded.

"The Lazarus Project, the program that…helped you…" He would let Miranda explain what 'helped' entailed. This wasn't the time to field a truckload of 'why' and 'how' questions. He was about to have enough 'what the hell?' questions to deal with. "It's funded and controlled by Cerberus."

Her lip curled in a snarl. She glanced from him to Wilson and back again, then aborted the gesture, though she clearly did not like that answer. "Interesting. What are the chances that's Commander Sheffler kicking down the door, I wonder?"

It was not a joke, and no one laughed. He had half expected an accusation of having lied to her, even though he had not told her anything about where she was, past where they needed to go.

"The Alliance declared you dead. They gave up." He knew that, from here on in, she would have to carry the dreadful suspicions and worries about how Cerberus got a hold of her. A flicker of unease, of worst case scenarios, shone for a moment on her face, as her eyes widened, just enough to reveal an echo of a sixteen-year-old girl whose world had just fallen apart.

Was it normal for a person to read that much off her?

"Look, I know this sounds suspicious; hell, I wouldn't believe it if it was me, but that's what is. I thought you deserved to know." He held her gaze until she looked away, towards Wilson. "I'm not asking you to trust us, or take anything on faith."

"I appreciate the honesty," she said slowly. Clearly, the conundrum of why Cerberus wanted her anywhere but in a pine box was causing her some serious mental discomfort. Or maybe she had a headache to begin with, and the new information was just exacerbating it. This was not a great day for anyone on this station.

"Once we're off the station, I'll take you to the Illusive Man. He's the guy with the answers. He'll explain everything. I promise." For some reason, promising her that 'the Illusive Man' would answer all her questions amused her…no, that wasn't right. It was as though he put her vaguely in mind of someone else, and he sensed this garnered him a foothold in her estimations. A foothold that pulled him out of the category of 'mindless terrorist zealot, shoot on sight or as feasible'.

There were plenty of those in Cerberus, but if the Illusive Man was smart—and he was—the nutcases and questionable projects would stay well away from Shepard.

"I take your point: for the time being, you watch my back and I'll watch yours."

Jacob's spine tingled. There was more in the words than the words themselves. In fact, it reminded him vaguely of Miranda, in a way. She was saying something without saying it outright…

Then again, it might be a blind. He recognized SERE training kicking in when he saw it. If she was going to escape she would need a shuttle, and she needed to survive long enough to get to one. Three-on-many mechs (or four, if/when they found Miranda) were better odds than she would have if she struck out alone.

And she didn't know the station.

"Right, I'll go first," she held up a hand to stave off Jacob's protest, "Wilson follows me and you follow him, Taylor—I don't want anyone shooting from behind our biotic powerhouse. Let's go."

"Bossy, huh?" Wilson asked softly as Shepard started forward, though she still seemed to be keeping half an eye on what went on behind her.

"You don't get to be where she was by being nice: you get there by handing out candy or ass-kicking as applicable. Get moving, we need to find Miranda." Miranda would put Shepard's safety before her own in a heartbeat, considering all the effort that had gone into rebuilding the Commander. However, he was more prone to worrying about Miranda.

He knew Miranda, and was fond of her—if that was a word he could use. Shepard was just an officer—a good officer, from all accounts, but she still boiled down to another member of the brass, in the World According to Jacob. Nothing against Shepard, it was just the way things went.

The Illusive Man would not shell out to replace Miranda. And without Miranda spearheading the effort, Shepard wouldn't be trotting on ahead, weapon at the ready…

…and one eye still checking her six.

Well, Wilson would be just in her periphery: doubtless the motion kept catching her attention, thus the semi-continual checking.

If he ever found out who staged this fiasco, he was going to tie them into a pretzel. With his bare hands. Why waste the effort to do it with biotics?