Shepard stared at the data pad in her hands as Miranda double-checked a few functions on the back of her armor in the airlock; Samara and Thane on either side of her. She was only half paying attention to Miranda's voice, and less than half paying attention to the electronic information in front of her.

She still couldn't find what she was looking for.

Almost a decade of searching, and nothing.

"...with Patel and...Shepard?"

Sure, she'd managed to dig up several precious family heirlooms for others, but God forbid she find that one damn picture.

"Shepard."

"Huh?" She snapped her head up as Miranda circled to her front.

"Did you get all that?"

Nope. Not at all. "Ah...yep. Definitely."

Miranda crossed her arms.

"But, just in case, uh...repeat everything you just said, because I wasn't listening."

Thane nodded. "I heard you, Miss Lawson. Should we have time, I'll make sure we look through the market."

"Thank you." She sighed and took the data pad from Shepard's hands. "We can go over some of the other things again when you get back."

Shepard offered her a sympathetic grin. "Sorry. Not all of us have the memory thing."

Miranda had on her clinical, observey, doctor face. She frowned a little. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes— really, I'm fine."

"Because I don't think there would be much of a brain for me to salvage if you managed to get yourself killed by an Ardat-Yakshi." She sniffed and looked away briefly.

"Miranda." Shepard took her shoulders and smiled. "I'm okay. I promise. Scout's honor, pinky swear...all that good stuff."

Samara shifted her weight. "As long as she does not feel the need to ask what could go wrong, I believe we will be fine."

"Very true." Miranda straightened and flashed Shepard a smile before turning to go. "Thane, you have permission to punch her in the throat should she even think of that phrase."

"Acknowledged."

"Well now I'm thinking of it, since you guys said it." Shepard crossed her arms as the door shut behind them. "Thanks a lot."

Thane patted her shoulder. "I suppose I'll give you one free pass."

"You're such a pal." Shepard suppressed the habit of wanting to take a deep breath as the outer airlock door opened to the Omega docking bay. It smelled like rust and sweat. All the time. She should have grabbed her breather helmet. Except, she probably looked strange enough in full armor, showing up places just to do some investigating. She glanced over at Samara. "What've we got?"

Samara started forward. "We need to speak to Aria."

Shepard bit down on her tongue. Is that like a have-to have-to, or maybe a kind-of have-to? She'd almost kneed one of her batarian bodyguards between the legs the first time they'd met. In her defense, she didn't take kindly to people ordering her to do stupid things.

Or maybe part of it was simply that he was a batarian.

At least she acknowledged her prejudices.

"Right." Shepard nodded once, giving Samara a sidelong glance. She was determined, sure. But...how hard would it be to...kill your own daughter? She shuddered at the thought and silently thanked whoever was in charge that she didn't have to make that judgment call. And hoped she would never need to.

At least Samara's undying faith in her Code gave her purpose.

How many rules were there? Like...a bajillion?

I could never keep those straight, she thought as they broke into one of the common areas of Omega. Rapid transport on their left, paths to the markets and some apartments and the former quarantine zone to their right. Everything illuminated with dingy yellow or gaudy, obtrusive neon. Shepard already felt like she needed a bath. Meteor dirt crunched against concrete under their boots as they made their way to the entrance of Afterlife. She gave the elcor standing guard a salute. "Howard."

"Tiredly: that is not my name."

"Well, until you give me one, I'm gonna' stick with it!" she replied, spreading her arms out and grinning as she walked up the steps backward. "See you later, Howard!"

"Stoically: if I must."

Shepard chuckled as her and her two crewmembers made their way into the wide corridor. "Those guys are the best."

.The air inside Afterlife was always damp and hot, bass thumping so loud it felt like Shepard's bones were rattling. She squinted in the red glow, ignoring the silhouettes of asari dancers above them. She had to get her bearings.

It was weird, how most everything was bathed in red like that.

She always saw in funny green and blue shades for a while after leaving, if she stayed too long. Miranda had explained it to her, once. Gotten really excited and babbled about eye and brain things for a good half an hour. Shepard felt a little guilty she couldn't remember the why, but she couldn't remember much past the animated way Miranda had started whirling her hands; the way her eyes had lit up.

I should ask her about weird shit more often. She likes explaining. After twisting and bumping through a few tight groups of people, she thumped Thane's shoulder and pointed ahead. "There. That's one of the guys," she said, having to halfway shout for anything to be heard. She turned and motioned to Samara. "That way."

The batarian, Anto, curled a lip at Shepard as her friends made their way by him. "Human," he spat.

"Yeah," she answered flatly, before pointing toward Thane. "Drell." Her finger swept over toward Samara. "Asari." He didn't seem to have a come-back for that. She continued up the steps after giving him a hard stare.

"They're not all the same," Thane said quietly as they made their way into Aria's den. The roaring music dimmed, allowing thoughts to form coherently in heads.

"I'll believe that when someone proves it," she muttered.

"Though I should point out I don't disagree with you about him," he added.

Shepard smiled at him. "Pen?"

"No."

"Spoilsport."

"Shepard." Aria turned from examining her...what had she called it? She'd been so damn overdramatic. Her domain? Whatever. "Can't say I'm surprised to see you here."

"I just really love...the smell," Shepard said with a half-shrug. "Something about piss and unwashed vorcha. Good stuff."

The asari's eyes narrowed. "You could leave."

"What?" Shepard held up her hands. "I just said I love it!" She sucked in a deep breath and nearly coughed. "See? Great."

"That mouth of yours is going to get you killed."

"I was actually thinking a bullet would do that."

Aria smirked. "I have to admit, though, you have a certain...smartassery about you that's...almost charming."

"Almost charming is my middle name." Shepard grinned, before catching sight of Samara's face. Apparently, the Justicar wasn't amused with the back-and-forth they had to have. "Uuummm so. I may need a favor."

Aria folded her arms and nodded to her guards to give them some privacy. "I suppose I'm in your debt, after the intel you got me. However, I'm fairly sure I know what this is about."

Shepard wasn't sure if she was going to finish her thought or if she needed to stupidly ask 'you do?'. She settled for putting her hands on her hips. "Okay."

"Several murders." Aria stretched out her hand to examine the back of it. "Murder, Omega, no big deal, right? Well, these particular murders were something a little more...hm. Worrisome, shall I say? I'm not saying we have an Ardat-Yakshi running amok on my station, but..." Her eyes cut wickedly toward Shepard. "We couldn't have that, now could we?"

Shepard shook her head. "Definitely bad for business."

"Glad you see it my way."

Something turned in Shepard's stomach. She didn't want to see it her way. It had been a dumb joke, not something she really meant. She didn't want innocent men and women having their neural systems melted— or— whatever the hell an Ardat-Yakshi did. She frowned.

"I'll send you the information on her last-known victim. A young girl—pretty thing," Aria said, seeming not to notice the change in Shepard's countenance. "But you'll have to do the rest of the leg work from there." She turned away, waving them off. "Good luck finding her, Shepard. Better luck catching her."

Shepard saw one of the other asari stationed near the doorway pull up an omni-tool. She jerked her head toward the exit once she caught Samara's eye, and they started out. "Alright, so, I guess we go investigate and then..." She looked over at Thane as they started down the steps. "The market? What exactly are we supposed to be looking for? We don't need any more weird ship parts, right? Because I swear Ken and Gabby said that was all they needed."

Thane stopped at Shepard's side as a group of people went dancing by, causing them to stay back a few feet. She could feel Anto's breath, even from there. "She said Professor Solus had received word of stabilization gauntlets being sold here. Also, Operative Taylor was tipped off by a former contact of theirs regarding ordinance packs. She did relay the technical information, if you'd like me to repeat it for you."

Shepard laughed. "As much fun as that sounds, I'm going to decline. Thanks, though." Her omni-tool gave an automated ping and she pulled up the message. It was an apartment number. She shifted to show Samara.

The Justicar nodded.

"Any idea on how to get there?" Shepard shouted.

Samara turned to Anto and asked for directions. She could only half-hear them, but Samara seemed pretty confident as the crowd in front of them thinned and she started forward. "We take a cab from rapid transit," she explained loudly, guiding them through the bodies.

It wasn't quite fair how fluidly the two of them moved, and the way Shepard gracelessly bumped and smashed into people.

It's the armor. Yeah, definitely the armor. Because I'm...totally...graceful. She snorted out a little giggle. She couldn't even lie to herself in her head.

Breaking back into the corridor was like a breath of fresh air, if fresh air's smell consisted of musk, old leather, and several species' odd scents.

"Woo. Alright." Shepard wiped her hand across her eyes. "Rapid transit?"

Samara nodded.

"To rapid transit we go, then." Shepard cast a glance over her shoulder, toward the doors that currently hid Afterlife's main floor from view, and frowned slightly.

"Shepard?" Thane asked.

"Sorry." She turned and jogged a few paces to catch up. "We're going."

/ / /

Shepard jerked her arm away from Thane, sending as-yet-unidentified goo flying from her armor as she stormed back through the tunnel, toward Afterlife.

"This isn't a good idea."

"I don't have many of those, anyway," she snapped as the doors opened. She shoved her way past a few patrons, eyes locking onto Anto as soon as she could see him.

"Shepard—" Samara tried for the umpteenth time.

"No!" She cut her off. Again. It took a lot of self-control not to biotic-charge the smug-looking bastard. She did, however, barrel into him and shove him against the wall, her forearm at his throat.

He laughed. His breath was rotten.

Three guns were suddenly trained on her from the entrance to Aria's room. She ignored the dancing red beads on her arm. "You have ten seconds," she growled.

"I see you—"

"Ten!"

Another gravelly laugh. "I heard there was another attempt to extinguish that flame on Torfan."

Shepard let the pressure off for a split second before slamming him against the wall again. "Eight."

"Must have felt good, gunning down those helpless batarians, after they surrendered. Did you feel like the all-powerful Shepard? You got a damn memorial for it."

"Five!"

"Still didn't bring back your family, did it?"

Shepard blinked, air stolen from her body.

"I saw holos from before you died the first time. Cerberus cleaned up that nasty scar from your face." Anto laughed again. "What was it—your immediate family was...your two fathers? Didn't get as lucky with their injuries, did they? What were their names? Let me think..."

She was dangerously close to crying. Or snapping his neck.

"That's right." He craned his head as far forward as he could; foul, hot breath sliding across her face. "They were nothing. Unimportant. Nobody remembers."

"I remember," she whispered, before shoving him against the wall and taking a step back.

"What, you're not going to—"

She backhanded him as hard as she could, sending him stumbling to his right. "Martin!" She followed through with a second backhand, nearly sending him spinning in a circle. "And Travis!" She shook out her hands with a deep breath. "Time's up, you son of a bitch."

Dark blood trickled from his mouth.

Aria laughed above them before returning to her normal musing spot.

Shepard turned to see Samara and Thane both staring at her. She nudged through them. "We'll find our own way," she mumbled, avoiding their eyes. Her omni-tool gave another ping and she opened the message, dodging her way through the crowd once again.

Directions.

She turned and looked up, to the smug, blue, tattooed face behind the glass. Aria nodded.

A gentle hand on her shoulder woke her up. She must have dozed off. She almost snorted when she saw just what her pop's 'secret' was.

Martin crouched next to the couch, a ridiculous, fake, curling moustache stuck to his lip. "Hello, Miss Shepard," he said, with an equally ridiculous accent. "I'm Doctor Shepard."

"I can't get it to stick!" Travis' voice floated from the hallway.

Martin pressed his lips together and tilted his head. "My assistant will be here...momentarily…" He stood and shouted back down the hall, "Well, love, did you peel the back paper off?"

A short pause. "Oh! I wondered why it was yellow and not-sticky on the back."

After a few awkwardly quiet seconds, Travis ran from the hall and stopped next to Martin. His fake moustache was very long and very thin, and one edge was already peeling away from his cheek. "What are you guys doing?" she asked, squinting through the slight haze of pain and pain medication.

"Here is my assistant! Mister Shepard!" Martin exclaimed, throwing his arm around Travis' shoulders.

"Wait, I'm just the assistant?"

"There can't be two doctors."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"I say there can be."

"Alright fine." Martin sighed. "My assistant, the other Doctor Shepard."

"But I'm still the assistant!"

"But you're a doctor assistant."

"Okay, fine."

"Guys." She grinned. "Seriously. What are you doing?"

Martin bowed with a flourish. "We are here to make you feel better!" He looked up and smiled. "Actually, I just saw these at the store when I was renting tonight's vid, and I couldn't say no. There's one for you, too."

Travis pulled another from his pocket and went down on one knee, presenting it with both hands. "Good lady."

She laughed, causing a dull throbbing across her skull, but grabbed her moustache eagerly. A handle-bar moustache...it kind of looked like Uncle Rick's. She peeled the back paper off and stuck it on her lip before smiling at them. "How do I look?"

"Stupendous, baby girl!" Travis exclaimed. "Though you've got a bit of a growth there, on your upper lip…" He touched his own fake facial hair.

"Do I, now? Yes, Dad, I believe you also have an anomaly on yours."

"Ah-hah! Speaking of anomalies!" Martin pulled up his omni-tool and flopped onto the couch. "Listen to this!"

Travis rolled his eyes before travelling to the kitchen, no doubt to start the popcorn and grab him and Martin a beer.

Martin slung an arm around her shoulders. "Epic storms triggered by a space anomaly obliterate cities, and the only answer to escaping complete annihilation rests on a small-town teen's extraordinary science project!"

She peered down at the vid title name. "Mega Cyclone."

"Mega Cyclone?" Travis laughed, tossing a can from the fridge before kicking it closed.

Martin caught it easily. "It's going to be epic," he said, popping open the top of the beer.

"Epic, huh?"

"There are cyclones, and they're mega!"

She grinned. "Dunno what's not epic about that, Dad."

"Indeed." He came back into the living room, pulling up his omni-tool as he scooted onto the couch again. "Such an epic moment deserves a picture, don't you think?"

Martin stroked his fake moustache. "Certainly, good sir."

Travis held his arm out, the other joining Martin's around her shoulders. They leaned closer together, sandwiching her between them. "Say 'mega cyclone'!"

"This is much nicer than getting shit dumped on us from three stories overhead," Shepard said, taking a turn down another winding alleyway. She looked up, just to be sure she hadn't jinxed them. That's always how those kinds of things worked.

She wasn't entirely sure it had been shit. But she was glad they'd managed to get it wiped off. It had smelled bad enough.

She definitely needed a shower.

And probably decontamination, like Miranda had said the first time she accompanied Shepard on the station.

She felt like a Human Level 4 Biohazard.

"There it is," Thane said, pointing.

Shepard stepped up to the bio-reader and activated the glowing button underneath it. "Um...hello?"

"Who is it?" a watery voice responded.

"I'm Commander Shepard, and I'm here with two of my crewmates. We're here to help find who killed...killed your daughter, ma'am."

A pause, and then the door slid open.

An older woman, lines etched into her face from years of laughing and smiling, stood in a common room; not unlike a living room with an open shot to the kitchen. She sat down on a couch, staring at her hands through bloodshot eyes. "You're here about my daughter?" she asked, her voice hollow and heavy. "She died about a week ago, and...no one seems to care. The doctors say it was a brain hemorrhage, but...but you know differently, don't you?"

Samara took a step forward. "Yes. We do."

Shepard rolled her shoulders. "We'll find her murderer."

The woman nearly bolted from her seat, almost crying. "Thank you! It's so hard when no one believes you. I'm...all alone, now." She paused, looking over the three visitors to her home.

We must look like quite the investigative party.

"Are you some of Aria's people?"

Shepard bit her lip, issuing a humming noise as she did. "Ah...well...no, not...exactly. Kind of? I mean...not really, but...ugh." She shook her head before taking the woman's hands. "We're here to help. Does it really matter who sent us?"

"No, no, I suppose it doesn't." She seemed to compose herself, smoothed her hands over the front of her dress. "What do you need to know? I'll tell you everything I can."

/ / /

The laundry room was one of the best kept Normandy secrets. Behind the shuttle bay, and to get there, you even had to go through a spare closet piled with extra supplies for the small gym set up in the back corner of the bay.

Shepard sat atop a line of washing machines nestled snugly in a smallish alcove, leaning against the wall behind her, her side pressed against the wall on her right.

She stared at the rubber ball in her hand before bouncing it along the machines, causing a harsh metal bang. It bounced against the far wall and sailed back.

Elcor artist...Forza? No. For...Forte? No. Forta.

"Fortaaaa," she drawled, testing the word out. She'd need to go over some of the finer points of what they'd learned with Thane, before the stupid date she needed to stage tomorrow night. She threw the ball again.

Clang. Thud. Catch. Clang. Thud. Catch.

Miranda was going to hate this plan.

It was worse than going to that uppity party with Kasumi.

She wouldn't have any kind of weapon. And only the promise of Samara in the shadows as backup.

Clang. Thud. Catch.

That poor girl. She thought she'd struck gold.

"I'm just dumb space trash from Omega."

Shepard wished she could have met her. Given her a hug. She wasn't dumb space trash. Had anyone told her that? Probably only her mother.

And Morinth.

Clang. Thud. Catch.

A kind, creative, soft-spoken young woman. Shaggy, brunette hair, and a brilliant smile, when she let it break through.

Gone.

Drugs and a pretty woman.

Shepard gritted her teeth.

She knew about that.

Clang. Thud. Catch.

What the hell was she supposed to wear on this date thing? She'd sworn off dresses several times in her life—after military balls and a maybe a friend's wedding or two when she'd been all but forced into one—but she was fairly certain that after Kasumi's plan, and having to wear the damn thing under a suit of armor, she was really done with them.

"Wedgie city," she muttered. "Blegh."

Delaying telling Miranda wasn't going to make the reaction any better. She'd stalled long enough as it was.

Oh, shit. She leapt off the washers. She was fairly certain she was missing dinner.

The door opened and she bowled straight into Jack.

"Whoops! Sorry," she said, kneeling to help gather the fallen armful of clothes. She paused, hands still outstretched. "Um...am I okay to...I don't want to see your...you know, pantaloons, if you don't—"

Jack burst into a laugh. "Fucking— pantaloons? Who the fuck says pantaloons, Shepard?! Did you make that shit up?"

She paused and scratched at her head. "I think I've heard it somewhere before." She frowned slightly. "Y'know, I actually think it just means pants."

Jack rolled her eyes and grabbed a few pairs of jeans. "No, my delicates aren't in this load, if that's what you were trying to say."

Shepard giggled, scooping up the last few pieces. "Oh, because 'delicates' is so much better than 'pantaloons'."

"Fuck you and your pantaloons."

"I'll make it a thing," she said, throwing in her armful in the washer after Jack. She held out the rubber ball and shook it. "Just you wait."

Jack kicked the front-loading door closed and hit start. She nodded at the ball. "What's that?"

"Just..." Shepard shrugged and offered it out. "Just a bouncy ball thing. I found it when we picked up the stabilization gauntlets earlier today."

Jack grinned and gave it a few bounces. She pulled the smile from her face and tossed it back. "Boring as shit."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "You're lying. You think it's awesome."

"No," Jack said, starting back out. "You're the one who thinks everything is awesome. I hate to break it to you, but a two-for-one sale event on hamster food is not awesome. It's just a fucking sale. On pet food."

Shepard followed her. "It's okay to like dumb things, you know."

Jack let out a curt laugh. "Trust me, you lead by example."

"Isn't it great?!" Shepard bounced it again, then stared at it for a long moment. Now there's an idea. "When's your birthday?" she asked as they climbed in the elevator.

"Oh for fuck's— why?" The tattooed woman crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Shepard pulled her shoulders up. "I dunno. Just...um...trying to make conversation?"

"Yeah, well..." Jack banged on the button for the crew deck. Good, Shepard hadn't entirely missed dinner, then. "I don't really know. So there."

Shepard twitched her lips as the elevator started its slow crawl upward. They really needed to get that fixed. She held out the simple toy, not looking at Jack. She eyed it like it would bite her. "It's more fun if you bounce it against the wall."

Frosty silence enveloped them for a few seconds.

"Dammit—don't tell anyone." Jack grabbed it away and flung it at the floor, angling so it hit the wall and came back. She fought a grin as she shoved it back into Shepard's hand. "I'm warning you—not a fucking word, Shepard."

"About what?" She winked as the door finally opened to the clatter and noise of dinner.

/ / /

Shepard paced in her bedroom, dressed in a pair of shorts, a Cerberus-stamped t-shirt under a thin sweatshirt she didn't bother to zip up, and slippers.

"Right, okay, Forta. Elcor artist. I love him. Love that guy's work. He's a genius. He's...a genius? He's a genius." She frowned, turning and making her way back across the room. "Good...stuff." She'd actually looked up his art earlier. She thought it was ugly. "Really...cool, uh, stuff. EDI? How'd it sound?"

"Unconvincing."

"Shit." She ran a hand through her hair before holding out her arms. "Okay. Jaruut. Hi, I'm here to get into the VIP section...and...the secret password is Jaruut." She shook her head. "Oh hell no. Um. Hi, Jaruut said this is the place to be. And I'm cool, so I...uh...shit. Goddammit." She took a deep breath and put one hand on her hip. "Hey. My buddy Jaruut said I should check this place out." She pursed her lips and shrugged. "Not bad, I don't think. EDI?"

"It sounded nearly natural."

"Nearly?"

"Your vocal pattern fluctuated when you said 'Jaruut'. You paused for point zero three nine seconds longer than normal after the word 'buddy'."

Shepard sighed. "Really? Point zero three nine?"

"I rounded to three decimal points."

"What about sports? Should I try and talk sports?" She balled up a fist and rapped it against her forehead. "No. Artsy type. Probably not sports. Ugh! What was I thinking, agreeing to do something that consists of me lying my entire way through?!" She exclaimed, throwing up her arms. "This was a terrible idea!"

"On that, we can agree."

Shepard whirled, having not heard Miranda come in. Her eyes widened. "Hey! How...much of that did you hear?"

"Enough." Miranda grinned and descended the stairs. "On the positive side, you may make it into Afterlife's VIP section."

"Always a critic." Shepard put her hands on her hips, feigning hurt.

"I think I just have too much fun teasing you."

"I make it easy, don't I?"

Miranda's grin broke into a dazzling smile and a laugh. "Exceedingly so."

She tapped at her chin. "Maybe I should work on that."

Miranda pulled a few steps forward, hands coming to rest at either side of Shepard's face, thumbs stroking gently against her cheeks. "Absolutely not," she whispered, before giving her a long kiss.

Shepard smiled when she pulled away and pressed their foreheads together. "Copy that." She was leaning forward for another, when Miranda put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thane...told me what happened today."

Shepard's smile dropped and she took a step back. "What did he say?" she asked, pulling her sweatshirt together and turning away. She suddenly felt rather small. She hated feeling small.

"Aria's guard, Anto, gave you false directions, and insulted your family and the actions you took on Torfan when you went back to confront him."

Shepard rubbed at the back of her neck, staring at the bed spread. "Did he say...how that confrontation went down?"

"Yes."

She scrubbed a hand diagonally across her face. The scar that was no longer there. "Then...that's that, right?"

"Shepard." Miranda's hand slid into hers. "I may not be the rock of emotional support that you are, but I can listen."

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "You know their names, don't you?"

"Of course." Miranda shifted, her hand coming to rest on the small of her back, and the other tucking a few stray hairs behind Shepard's ear. "Travis—your dad, and Martin—your pop. Travis was a dock worker, and Martin was a mechanic. I also know you vehemently opposed anyone calling you by your first name after the attack, because you wanted them—their name—to be remembered." She kissed the side of her head. "They were good men. I saw it. And they loved you."

A dock worker and a mechanic. Buried under names of biological and agricultural engineers; political figures and colonial protection. But she knew. And Miranda knew.

Somehow, it made all the difference.

Shepard sniffed, nodding. "I wish you could have met them. They'd love you." She grinned, sending tears down her cheeks. "Tell you all my embarrassing stories. Pop and I would pull out all the stops and pick the absolute worst vid we could think of, combined."

Miranda smiled. "That's a lot of terrible vid experience."

She choked out a laugh. "I know. Dad would apologize in advance for the atrocity that was about to happen...and he'd probably cook something really fancy that I couldn't pronounce." She sniffed again, grinning. "Too bad I don't have their genes. Maybe I could have lucked out with the cooking thing." Her brows furrowed in sudden realization. "Wait...you saw it? You saw...them?"

"I had to learn everything I could about you, for two years. Pictures were involved, yes."

Shepard whirled and grabbed her arms. "Are they still—do you still have access to them?"

Miranda looked slightly confused. "Um...yes, I believe I do. They'd be in the Project Lazarus archives."

Shepard started tugging her toward her office space, her heart fluttering. Maybe it was in there. That picture. It was the last one the three of them had taken together. Just the three of them. One of the rare ones they paid to have printed out and put in a cheap frame, because it was what her hard-working parents could afford. "Can you pull them up on my terminal?"

"Yes..." Miranda hunched over her terminal.

Shepard's hands wrung together of their own accord. Of course—she'd just been looking in all the wrong places. Of course Cerberus would have pictures. Why hadn't she thought of that before?

"Because of...what happened, on Mindoir, the sources were limited," Miranda explained, clicking through several different windows, entering various ID codes and passwords. "Cerberus gathered what they could."

They, huh? Shepard chewed absently at a thumbnail—she never did that— trying not to be impatient. Damn, there were so many things she had to enter. Finally, after an optic scan from the built-in camera, Miranda had access.

"Here. It's what we could find." She took a step back and motioned Shepard forward.

Her hands were shaky as she put them on the desk and leaned on it. "Oh my God," she whispered, before breaking into a laugh. "This one is ancient!" She pointed to the picture filling the screen. "I think that's from when they first started dating! Look at Pop's sideburns! Oh, man, I'm so glad Dad convinced him to shave those bad boys off before I came along. I'd've had nightmares about those."

"Oh, they're not that bad." Miranda came up beside her and slid an arm around her shoulders.

"And Pop would probably love you more than me, after you said that." She chuckled and swiped to the next picture.

She was an infant, and both of them were beaming down at her, tears shining in their eyes.

Miranda leaned forward, kissed her temple. "I don't think that would be possible."

"Ah, you don't know how much Pop loved. And Dad, too."

"I have a rather good idea." She squeezed Shepard's shoulder.

There were only a few dozen pictures. Some with the whole family— her aunt and uncle, younger cousin, and one set of grandparents— there were a few more of Shepard with school friends, but most were of the three of them.

No luck on the one she was looking for, though.

She took a deep breath and straightened. "Thanks," she said, hugging Miranda, burying her face in her neck.

One of Miranda's hands came up to rest on the back of Shepard's head, the other holding her tightly. "You're strong, too, you know," she murmured. "You just forget, sometimes."

She nodded, but didn't break away. The outside world dissolved for just a little while. There was no Ardat-Yakshi she had to fool. No derelict reaper to explore in the near future. No Cerberus and no Alliance.

She could miss her fathers, right now. She could miss her family and childhood friends. It was allowed.

When she finally pulled back, she cupped Miranda's cheek with one hand and leaned in, pressing her lips against Miranda's full, soft ones. "Then thank you for reminding me," she said. After swallowing thickly, she reached to the side, pulling a data pad from her desk. She gave a heavy sigh, moving away from Miranda. "I have to read up on how to be cool, now. I've missed the last two years of pop culture. And I need to work on my lying face."

Miranda rolled her eyes and grabbed the data pad. "You'll definitely need help."

"What, with my lying face?"

She winked and turned back toward the bedroom area. "Both."

"I am so cool!" she protested, following her.

Miranda only needed to turn and raise an eyebrow.

Shepard looked down at her pajama ensemble and grinned crookedly. "I was thinking of wearing this on my non-date tomorrow."

"That's a terrible idea."

"I'm on a terrible idea streak today."

"Well, it ends now. Most critically acclaimed independent romance vid in the past two years. Go."

"I...uh...um...shit."

"Metaphorically synonymous, yes, but not the title." Miranda grinned and grabbed a loose fold of her sweatshirt; pulled her close and planted a quick kiss on her lips. "We'll get there."

Shepard grinned at the first title to pop into her head. "Barbarella: Queen of the Galaxy."

"Oh dear God. Stop. Stop now."

"You know what's coming next." Shepard waggled her eyebrows.

"I wish I didn't."

"Plaguers!"

"There it is." Miranda sighed and sat on the foot of the bed, and Shepard perched herself on the coffee table. "This is going to be a long night," she mumbled, eyes flicking from the data pad to the commander.

"I could serenade her."

"Open your mouth to sing one note, and I will personally stuff that furry rodent you call a pet in your mouth."