The Illusive Man frowns as he gently taps his cigarette, depositing ashes into a small tray. He stares at the message that arrived in his inbox moments ago.

Illusive Man,

You should be more careful. Contact me.

ML

There's a video clip attached. A curious thing, Miranda Lawson reaching out to him now. For months he's been sending assassins and hit squads after her, and yet she continues to be a thorn in his side. Her continued survival is a validation of the drive and intelligence that led him to recruit her. She's as capable an operative as he's ever had. Without her, Lazarus wouldn't have been possible. She was every bit as vital to the success of that project as Wilson was. A pity that she lost sight of what Cerberus was about, that she couldn't see the big picture. It's as Shepard said. She's toosentimental.

He views the video file. It contains footage, about five seconds, of a QEC conversation between himself and Shepard. Shepard, who he hasn't heard from since Tuchanka. He instructed her to stay away from the Citadel until after the coup, but he has questions about what happened on the krogan homeworld. The krogan are reporting that the genophage has been cured. He knows the dalatrass reached out to Shepard with a fake cure. Were the krogan fooled, or did Shepard flinch? He has his own scientists looking into the matter, but they say it will be weeks before their tests yield conclusive results.

X8 was present in the Kelphic Valley. She prevented the turian bomb from going off. If Shepard's intuition was correct, X8 may well have proceeded to the Shroud to confront her. He has little doubt Shepard would win such a confrontation, as she did once before. Still, the lack of contact is troubling. Furthermore, there has been no new intel on the clone's whereabouts or activities. What happened down there?

Those questions will have to wait. Time to see what Miranda's game is. He establishes a link, using the old protocols with which she is familiar. Her image appears, small, slightly distorted by her omni-tool's scanner, visible only from the waist up. She looks well put together, confident. She always did know how to make an impression. "Hello, Miranda."

"Illusive Man."

He drags a lungful of smoke from his cigarette. "I trust you've been well?"

"No thanks to you."

"I regret that things had to happen this way," he says with a slight nod of conciliation. "I hope you understand that it isn't personal. It was never less than a pleasure working with you." The words are at once sincere and meaningless.

She scowls. "I'm not here for a letter of recommendation."

"Oh?." He leans back. "And just what do you want, Miranda?"

"I want you to call it off."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

She crosses her arms and shifts her weight to the other leg. "The coup. I know you and Udina are conspiring to assassinate the Council and take control of the Citadel."

He nods slowly. Impressive. "Assuming what you say is true, why should I do as you ask?"

"Because if you don't, I'll turn all the evidence I have over to C-Sec."

He ponders for a moment before exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I don't think so. If you were inclined to do that, you would already have done so. You know it would incriminate Shepard as well."

She shakes her head. "Turning Shepard into a fugitive isn't my first choice, but that doesn't mean you should test me."

He nods. "I understand. You brought her into this world. You feel responsible for her. You want her to succeed. I can respect that. But I'm afraid it's simply too late."

"What—"

"Good bye, Miranda." He terminates the connection.


The waiter sets the bottle of sake on the table at the same moment Kaidan catches the woman waving from a distance. He doesn't recognize her and glances behind him; a couple waves hesitantly back to the woman. Kaidan sighs. He can't remember the last time anyone knocked on his door to grab a meal together. Well, at least he's got his sake and after months of waiting, his reservation at the posh sushi place in the Silver Sun Strip.

Maybe being a Spectre has its perks. Not that he can think of many so far. The job has been more laid back than he expected. Then again, the Council don't run around throwing themselves into danger – while Shepard always went out of the way to do just the opposite. It's a good thing, this gig. Second human Spectre. It's a big deal. He tries to stay humble about it and he tries not to let his parents' praise go to his head.

Now, if he can only find his old biotic students—he could rest easy. Real easy. Keeping an eye on the Citadel isn't too bad. He's lucky. He expected to be on the Normandy longer than he was and it's only recently that the bruises from that machine have faded away. Things are getting back on track. He's only hoping Shepard can handle her end. Then when the war is over… well, who knows. Maybe he'll meet a nice girl, a nice guy, something. Still, hell of a thing, Cerberus making the headway they are.

If he didn't know better… No. He can't think like that. He pours himself a small glass of sake and takes a drink. It's dryer than he expected, sour. Huh. He has a bite of inari, enjoying the sweet flavor, nearly choking on it when the waving woman breaks free from the French waiter and runs to his table. "Ah, Sir! Major Alenko! Uh, please!" The waiter wraps an arm around her waist, "a moment of your time! Will you let go of me!" She tries to elbow the man, misses terribly and nearly falls face first into the table.

Jeez, she's clumsy. Still, she's in an Alliance uniform, and he's got a soft spot for his guys, whoever they are. "Uh—it's fine," he says to the waiter.

"Will you let go!" She shouts. A few of the patrons look over. He studies her. Dark, attractive, ebony hair in a ponytail. Her eyes are lighter than he would have expected. Are they blue or brown? "Oh, gosh, I am so, so, so sorry to have caused a scene. Man! This place is great! I've been trying to get in here for ages," she sits opposite of him, "can I sit?"

"Uh—sure," he says. He'd been lamenting the slow turn of things. This is unexpected, at least. "Can I help you?"

"Yes…!" she lowers her voice, looks around surreptitiously and scoots forward. "Wow, I can't believe I'm sitting here with a human Spectre. A very proud day for humanity," she rambles, "Oh, yes, sorry. Getting carried away. Why I came—this is very important. I have—oh, yes, I should introduce myself. Maya Brooks. Staff Analyst Maya Brooks—I have information and I don't know who else I can go to. The Council—the Citadel is in danger—" Kaidan's heart thumps. Is it possible? C-Sec has everything locked up—so he thought. They've been monitoring all the feeds— "I was listening to my—I've been digging through the channels—Oh, God, it's all too boring to explain—but here," she speaks even more quietly now, "I can give you the proof you need."

Kaidan squares his jaw, meal forgotten. It might be a fluke and she might be zealous and crazy… but even so… "Let's see what you have."


Cerberus is everywhere.

Cortez glides the shuttle down and Shepard—or whatever the person that looks like Shepard is—is pale and sweaty. Her breathing is erratic. Garrus catches Liara's eye. She shakes her head.

"All right," Shepard slips the helmet on, "we go in fast and we give them no quarter. These fuckers aren't taking the Citadel on my watch."

"That's the spirit, Shepard," a sliver of approval creeps into his voice. Of all times. Liara thinks the universe must be playing a cosmic joke on her. The shuttle door opens. Goddess. There are even more than she thought down there. "What do you think, up for a little competition? Loser buys winner dinner."

"Hell, Garrus, if you're trying to ask me out, come out and say so."

Garrus harrumphs and hops out of the shuttle. Shepard takes a step forward, hand on the entry of the shuttle when Liara grabs her arm. "Don't do that." Her eyes are unreadable behind her visor. Hazel and squelched of emotion, not like the fire that overtook her hours ago. She has a large lump on her forehead from where Liara pistol whipped her. She blacked out. Liara investigated. Some of her story checks out. She doesn't want to give it credence, doesn't want to believe it. If she does, that other Shepard—her Shepard…? Is dead. And this… thing… It's another story, don't buy into it. For all you know she knew there was enough there to fill your head with lies. "Don't be friendly with him."

"You getting jealous?"

"I'll be watching your every step." Liara's hand squeezes tighter, a blue pulse moving through her. Shepard's eyes flash hot and green. "Don't think I won't hesitate to put a bullet in you."

"You already have." Shepard jumps into the fray. What does that mean? Has she hesitated? She hasn't shot her? Damn Shepard for playing more of her mind games. Liara follows reluctantly after her. It had to be Garrus for this mission. The others don't know Shepard like he does. It's painful watching them. It feels like old times but Garrus doesn't know that she is the greatest threat to the Reaper war, the greatest war criminal, perhaps in all of history. So tell him. No. It wouldn't be right. If Shepard—no, not Shepard—Goddess damn it all –

So what should I call you, Liara asked when Shepard groaned, pushing herself to her feet. You say you're not Jane. What should I call you? Shepard's eyes had been cool. There had been something else there beneath the surface, familiar and defensive. Just call me Shepard. Her voice was filled with resentment.

The fighting is intense. Bullets fly from every direction. The Cerberus soldiers seem surprised to see Shepard. She fights clumsily. She fights like a vanguard. Jane had been is an adept. She'd decided to pursue being a vanguard at some point later in her Alliance career. When Project Lazarus brought her back, she was implanted accordingly. That Shepard on the field is vicious but Liara has seen her fight more gracefully before. Recently. Is she trying to prove a point?

They finally whittle down Cerberus to more manageable numbers. Shepard takes the Eviscerator from her back and blows the head off the last remaining soldier. Garrus makes a face. They get to Bailey. Shepard stares at him uncertainly and then, more hesitantly, back at Liara and Garrus.

"Bailey," Garrus says, kneeling beside him. Shepard repeats the name under her breath. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Where are they?" Shepard adds quickly. "What areas have been breached?"

Liara tries to determine whether she's fishing for information, trying to mark their progress. "He's bleeding, 'Shepard', he needs medical aid."

"Why don't you throw some medi-gel at him," Shepard snaps. Liara and Garrus blink. Shepard reaches into a pouch and retrieves some. "There you go. Think you can patch up and talk at the same time?" Liara glares. "What? Your bedside manner's better?"

"If you two are done squabbling," Bailey rips the medi-gel packet open and begins applying it to his wounds. Blood pumps out of him and Shepard, frowning, covers his hand with hers to keep pressure on the wound. "I don't know what the hell is going on. Communication is down but last I heard they'd made it to the goddamned Wards. Not sure there's any part of the Citadel free of those bastards. Jesus fuck, how did we not see this coming, this is a large operation—"

"We'll stop it," Shepard says.

Liara frowns. She sounds convincing enough. Maybe she's missed her calling as an actress. "Where's the Council?" she asks. "We're afraid Cerberus is here to put an end to them—"

"Those motherfuckers," Bailey spits.

"Damned right, Sir," Garrus agrees.

"Just go. I'll be fine," Bailey looks at Shepard warily and then the rest of the group. "I may be old but I'm not dying yet."

They nod and move forward. Shepard taking point, Garrus following close behind. Let's keep an eye on her, Liara said, I'm not convinced she doesn't think she owes Cerberus favors for bringing her back. Garrus' mandibles had flexed but he'd said nothing.

Most of the C-Sec channels are jammed, but Liara is able to route through the Normandy to establish a tight-beam link. "Miranda, we've arrived. I have Shepard." Shepard glances back quickly. "Where are you?"

"You're here? With— I'm in Pallin's office. Everything's gone to hell."

"I'm sorry to hear that." It's possible Miranda has been lying to her for all this time. If this talk of clones is true then… Goddess, what is she to think of it all? How is she to know she can trust Miranda? Trust this Shepard? None of it makes sense. The only one she can really trust is Garrus. "Stay put. Cerberus is everywhere. We'll work better together."

"Understood."

Shepard drops back, walks beside her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to clean up your mess," Liara hisses. You can't tell anyone about this. Please, promise me. People can't know what I am. If they know—everything could fall apart. Shepard seemed angry and vulnerable then. Liara shook her head. "No promises." Maybe she wanted to hurt her. Shepard moves ahead, wrapped in biotic tendrils, choking on anger. Liara narrows her eyes. Maybe she still wants to hurt her.


Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, fuck!

Oriana ducks as Cerberus bursts through the doors into Purgatory. It isn't long before they start shooting. A few Alliance soldiers on shore leave try to do something, but they're gunned down quickly. They're here. Cerberus is here and she ran and they'll take her, maybe kill her. I'm sorry, 'Randa, I really screwed this up. She fights the urge to vomit, already blanketed in a cold sweat.

Samara swirls the drink in her glass, seemingly unconcerned, takes another sip, finishes it. "What are you doing!?" Oriana whispers vehemently. She takes Samara's arm and pulls. Samara only looks at her with dead eyes. "We have to get out of here! We need to find my sister!"

"I don't work for your sister. I don't work for you," she smiles, warm and unworried. Oriana goes cold. I'm going to die. I'm going to die here and Samara's going to let me. "I think I like this place," she stretches her arms over her head, languid and catlike before daringly getting to her feet. "I've missed Omega. This is more my scene. If you want to get out of here, all you have to do is walk out."

Samara leaves the table and Oriana follows, encased in a biotic barrier, terrified. "You," Samara says to an Alliance soldier, "show Cerberus the Alliance is something to be proud of." He nods at her, comes out of hiding, starts shooting at random. "And you," she says to a Cerberus soldier running up to them, "you've defected. Cerberus is no good. Fight them until you die."

The soldier turns from them and starts shooting. Surprised screams fill the air. Oriana can't hear anything else Samara says. The gunshots are deafening. All she sees is Samara meeting the eyes of the men and women that pass, and those men and women turning to fight. Sometimes the Alliance fights Cerberus, sometimes the Alliance shoots civilians, other times civilians shoot at the Alliance soldiers. It's chaos.

Oriana flings a man who comes in their direction. I can do this. I can fight! But it doesn't seem she'll need to. They ignore her. Against all odds they ignore her. It's almost as if they don't know she's there. She sees without seeing until somehow she's made it out the door. She turns and looks back when she knows she shouldn't.

"Nicely done," Samara says, "Now get out of here, before I change my mind."

"What do you mean?"

But Samara's already forgotten her. She stands at the door, looking up at another asari, darker and older, her skin a violet color. "You know," Samara says, "I really love what I've done with this place."

The doors shut behind Oriana, locking the group inside. Bullets fire, one punching through the doors and whizzing past her. Oriana dives for cover, crawls back a few steps before getting to her feet. She runs and pulls up her omni-tool, sending an audio message. "'Randa! Cerberus is here! Where are you?!"


The nerves of before are stripped away. Her focus sharpens with every Cerberus soldier they take out. They race towards Pallin's office. Ah, she remembers the old bird. Hard-assed, not a fan of hers, wanted to do things the slow way, didn't see the merit in cutting through red tape, in doing what had to be done. Didn't like Spectres—maybe for good reason.

Shepard glances at his body, disemboweled—which she thought was a hell of a thing to do to a turian. Miranda gasps and Shepard sees a shadow flick, a swirl of a blade, Miranda's bloody face. Shepard hurtles forward before she knows what she's doing, cocks the shotgun and blasts. Whoever the ninja fucker is, he's fast. It should have taken his head off. Instead, a piece of the wall behind him crumbles.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, surprise evident on his face. He gives the blade another turn, lowering himself defensively into position. "Forget which side you're on?"

Fuck. Did they hear that? Blood runs down her nose. Fucking vanguards. Who the fuck are you? She thinks she says the words but she doesn't— she fires the Eviscerator again, sees strands of his hair fall away before she clips the shotgun onto her back and swings hard. It connects, but just barely, he's like water; he ducks her second punch, grabs her arm and slams her into the wall. He growls her name and Shepard makes herself move, sees the faces of the group, watching tensely, weapons lifted but unable to take a shot—

She hurls him back with a biotic throw, sending him reeling into a wall. He's back on his feet what seems like too quickly. She surges forward again, the desk and bookshelves in the room cracking and splintering, groaning loudly, she gets her fingers around his collar but he slips away. "What are you doing!" He hisses again, "We have our orders…!"

Shepard half-spins, her elbow cracking into his face. He stumbles back. "I don't take orders from you, asshole."

He grunts, stands, blood running down his mouth and chin. "I know who you are," he mutters. She races to him, swings once and then again. He dodges both attempts before jumping, burying his foot in her stomach, his knee in her face. Even with the helmet, the blow lands hard. She goes dizzy. For moments she only breathes, tries to get up. The man stops, his eyes looking past her. She glances back—Garrus, Miranda, Liara, stand, guns trained on him.

With another growl he turns and leaves. Garrus extends a hand. Shepard stops, emotion welling through her. He yanks her to her feet. "That was an ass kicking, if I ever saw one," he offers.

"Thanks for the support. Who the fuck was that?" she asks.

Miranda wipes blood from her nose, shakes her head with disgust. "Kai Leng."

That name. Shepard forces the air in her lungs, tries not to scream. She remembers how that bastard left Hope. She was barely alive. It took so long for Hope to recuperate. She remembers the vow she made. She failed. She kicks at a nearby trashcan, sending it careening into a pillar. "Let's go," she doesn't wait for them. He's the bastard who hurt Hope. Thought you didn't care what happened to her.

She doesn't. But she can't bury the hatred, the anger, the disappointment. It only now occurs to her that Hope is on the Citadel. Her breathing comes short. Where is she? Is she all right? Did she make it out?

"Shepard," she hears Liara moving after her, "are you all right?"

"What do you care?" She moves forward, determined.


Her nose and mouth throb from the hits she took from Kai Leng. If that bastard is in the picture things are bad. He's different than she remembers—has been upgraded. She shouldn't be surprised; at this point it seems everything is designed to rattle her.

What the hell was that between Shepard and Kai Leng? Why attack him if she's working with Cerberus? Was it all an act? For Garrus, for Liara? If so, it was a hell of a show. Why not pretend to go after him, let him get away? It'd be one thing if Liara had confronted her but… no. Liara wouldn't. She ought to be smarter than that. She can hope that Shepard has seen the error of her ways but doesn't buy it.

Still, if not for her timely arrival, who knows what Leng might have done to her? She has no time to think on it now. Oriana is in trouble and the Citadel is crawling with Cerberus. If they get her… You won't let that happen. She tears through the Citadel. It isn't how she'd prefer to move but she has no time to be cautious. Oriana is out there.

She uses biotic slams to take out some of the agents and merely shoots the others when she's feeling depleted, which is happening far faster than she anticipated. You're getting soft. No. The Suicide Mission was another creature. They were heavily armed, prepared and had every necessity accounted for. This has been over a year on the run, going off fumes. It had to catch up eventually. But why now?

She checks the thermal clip on the pistol and grits her jaw. She's running low and she hasn't seen anything that she might pick up. There's an Atlas up ahead, a group of nemeses and phantoms. Miranda swears internally and drops low, carefully taking the stairs up to the second landing. Oriana is that way but there's no chance of getting past that group on her own.

She moves along the walls, keeping to the shadows, her footsteps light. She makes it. Air floods into her lungs and she sees Oriana up ahead. She's pressed to the wall, looking around the corner in terror. Miranda doesn't run, no matter how desperately she wants to, how terrified she is something will happen to her sister in the ten seconds it takes to get to her. "There you are," she says once she reaches her. Oriana squelches whatever sound she's going to make, throws her arms around her instead. "You scared me half to death."

"You too," Oriana says quietly, "I'm so sorry I ran off—I guess that was pretty dumb— Oh my God," she looks at her face, "what happened to you?"

"Nothing—"

She stops, hears a whisper, turns. Oriana whimpers. Phantoms. Dragoons. Nemeses. Seven in all. The nemeses have their sights trained on them. Miranda feels a delicate heat in the middle of her forehead and glances at Oriana to see a beam centered on her forehead as well. Her mouth goes dry.

"Targets identified," one of the dragoons says. "Kill target Miranda. Apprehend target Oriana."

"No!" Oriana tries to step forward. Miranda stretches a hand out to prevent her. "I'll go with you, just let her go—"

"Damn it, Ori…!" Miranda shoves her back. Not this. Not after so long, not after so much suffering. She can't let Cerberus win, her father win. She can't let them take Ori… turn her into… She can't let it happen. "I won't let you have her. All my life I've worked for this. To keep her safe," her voice begins to splinter. "I'll die first. I'll die before I let you have her." Oriana's hand is tight on her shoulder, painful.

"That can be arranged." A woman's voice. She isn't sure who. One of the phantoms. Snide.

The faceless group stares at them, masked and unfeeling. Two of the phantoms are ready to spring into action, another stands straight, blade at her side. "You are family." The voice is flat, maybe curious. "I see."

"Doesn't matter," a dragoon says.

The next moment his head is on the ground. The group of soldiers stare at it, get bathed in blood as the body spins, spraying blood before it falls. A shot rings out. Miranda takes a terrified look behind her. Oriana is stunned, horrified but alive.

The phantom that spoke half-spins, buries its blade into another's stomach. Her head shifts in their direction. "Go." Miranda glances up, sees a headless nemesis body hanging over the railing below, the other one has its sights trained on a different dragoon. There are screams.

Miranda doesn't question, doesn't linger. She takes Oriana's hand and runs.


Cerberus is far stronger than she anticipated. Unchecked, their power has grown to intimidating proportions. Miranda ran off before Liara could ask questions and the fighting hasn't stopped for even a moment. Shepard charges ahead, more recklessly than she should, enraged by Kai Leng's escape. Who is he to her? An enemy or co-conspirator?

She almost feels sorry for the soldiers who get in Shepard's way. She may be charging off on her own but she is clinical and precise in her execution. Her determination and focus are admirable. Liara wonders how difficult it would be to plant a bullet in the back of her head. The price would be cheap given how much she could potentially save.

How much of Shepard's story is true…? Any of it…? She's melded with the woman before, knows her history. Shouldn't she know? Why can't she be sure? She fought viciously with Kai Leng. Perhaps it was all a show. It was. Don't believe her. But some part of her must. If not, she'd have killed Shepard already. A simple mind meld would prove everything—but the thought of it is unbearable.

Liara lags behind. She blinks, tries to ignore the thoughts. She can't afford to be anything but focused now. Up ahead Garrus glances questioningly back at her. Shepard flows ahead, electrifying the air around her, snatching the blade from a phantom's hand and slicing her neck open with it before dispassionately throwing her aside. Liara fights the chill she gets. She's cold. She's the Butcher of Torfan. She sacrificed a squad, killed surrendering batarians. What do you expect?

It's different to have heard about it, read about it, than to see it happen before her eyes.

"Spirits, they're fast!" Garrus shouts as two phantoms drop to either side of him. He blocks the blade of a phantom with his Krysae sniper rifle and ends up holding two pieces in hand. A forceful kick forward and one tumbles back. The other lunges forward. Liara stares as Garrus tries to weave around the one in front of him. Everything moves in slow motion as the blade inches forward.

A moment later it splits apart. Liara sees the smoke of the Eviscerator shotgun and the snapped blade slam into Shepard's ribcage. Garrus shouts. Liara nearly does before a searing pain tears through her arm. Liara slings a singularity field back while Garrus shoots down the offending nemesis with the Mattock-98. Hot blood pours down her arm. Shepard takes a few hits from the phantom's hand palm cannon before she snatches the 'useless' broken blade from the phantom. "No, no," the phantom says, "wait!" Shepard slams the fractured sword, edge first into the woman's skull. She twitches on the floor.

"That looks like it hurt," Garrus says. He prods her with his foot and she stops. "Thanks for the save, Shepard. I hope Cerberus doesn't have a lot of these. You know how it goes with turians and rolling."

"So I've heard." Shepard wraps her gloved hand around the blade buried in her side. Liara catches up to them. Garrus dumps the Krysae with a sigh. Shepard looks at her. Her arm sleeve is soaked in blue blood. "You all right? You're bleeding," she takes her arm. Liara takes it back and causes a new wave of pain to move through it. There's a flash in Shepard's eyes through the visor. Maybe hurt. "Put some damned medi-gel on it," she tells her shortly.

Garrus looks between the two of them. "That didn't puncture a lung, did it," he nods to Shepard. She shakes her head and pulls it out, throwing it to the side. "That assassin—I think I see him up ahead."

Shepard moves ahead without another word. Liara begins to follow. Garrus takes her arm. "Whatever's going on with you two, drop it—at least out here."

Liara scowls. She wants to fight with him. Of all times for him to take Shepard's side. Wasn't he the one saying for months that she couldn't be trusted? "Let's go," she says, "who knows what she'll do if we don't keep up with her."

Garrus narrows his eyes, but checks the Mattock and moves to follow after her. Kai Leng has snuck into an elevator and Shepard is already prying another one open to go after him. Wonderful. She's beginning to hate elevators.


A hail of gunfire separated them, left her on her own. She went crawling under a desk, hands over her ears. Who knows where Kaidan's gone off to now? Go save the Council! I'll just be here! Hiding! Maya Brooks told him. Another lie. They come so easily she doesn't have to think of them. They don't demand any creativity. She wonders if she can stop herself. She wonders if she's capable of the truth. Rasa closes her eyes, leans into the steel doors, her fingers digging into her shoulder, fingertips skirting over the edge of the bullet.

Her face is hot. No medi-gel and she can't get it out. Perfect. She breathes hard for some moments and stoops to pick up the only weapon in sight. A Cerberus Harrier from a fallen soldier. It's heavy but powerful. It's also an assault rifle and her shoulder feels like burning jello. Say goodbye to that shoulder. This might be the wound that finishes what Grace started.

Her eyes sting briefly. Shitty shoulder or no, there's still an attack to stop. Before they got separated, Kaidan said he heard reports that Shepard is here. The Harrier fires blindly. Maya Brooks is an idiot. If she… say… accidentally takes off Shepard's head—she can't be faulted. She'll be doing the world a favor and vindicating Grace. Miranda has other plans for Shepard but Rasa never agreed. A control chip isn't enough insurance. Killing her is the only way to be sure.

After Shepard's dead, she may be able to sleep. With a small cry of pain she pushes herself off the door. Blood runs down her arm. The damned Harrier is too heavy. If only she'd had the Phalanx, but it wouldn't have been right, approaching the boy scout with a beauty like that on her. If Kaidan's half the Spectre Shepard was, he'll get to the Council. Save them.

When did everything change? When did she start caring about whether the Council was saved? She blames Grace. Stupid, reckless, emotional. Rasa nearly smiles remembering the woman's confession of love. You don't know what love is. She clears her throat. There's a noise ahead and she creeps forward, slinking behind a jewelry store counter.

Two figures move quietly ahead, despite the broken glass and debris scattered everywhere. A particularly sharp pain shoots up her shoulder and down her arm and she closes her eyes, fighting the vertigo threatening to overcome her. She can't quite bite down the gasp that pushes past her lips, the excruciating pain nearly blinding. They must have been using incendiary ammo. It's been a while since she's felt it.

She's remembering the last time when a hand snakes behind the counter, yanks her to her feet, throws her against the wall. Rasa crumbles. Why is she so bloody dizzy? She can't remember the last time she ate. Maybe she's lost a lot of blood. Maybe she's dying. She looks blearily at the two in front of her. One is blonde and dressed in black. The other wears white, black and gold. Her eyes are brown. No, green. Both. Her face is a patchwork of scars. Rasa grits her teeth, fumbles for the Harrier.

A palm-cannoned hand knocks it away. The woman flips the blade in her hand. It's her. Not her. One of the other ones. Pieces. Rasa crawls and the woman follows. "Three." It's that actress. What's her name? Anna something or another. There were rumors she'd be in the next Blasto movie. Rasa can't decide whether that or Cerberus is more humiliating. Oh well. This looks like end of the road. "She doesn't matter."

'Three' picks Rasa up, flips her onto her back, looks into her eyes. Rasa's elated, gutted, to see the resemblance. "All I wanted was a purpose. A family. Something to stand for," 'Three' tells her unfeelingly. I wanted those things, too. 'Three's eyes flit over her face. "How's Grace?" And with that, some venom climbs into her voice. Rasa lashes out, her hand weakly slapping 'Three's' face, scratching it, drawing blood.

'Three' looks at her. The blonde comes over as Rasa's reaching for the Harrier. She kicks it out of the way. "If you're going to kill me, get to it," Rasa says. Three flips the blade in her hand, straddling her. Rasa's chest burns. So much work. All for nothing. So much she wanted to make right and she wasted all of it. She accomplished nothing. So many opportunities given to her, all of them squandered.

"Do you miss her?" Three asks.

"Who?"

"Your partner." She presses the blade to Rasa's abdomen. The material of her uniform gives way. She feels the cold blade on her skin. "The perfect one," she breathes the last.

"Three, we don't have time for this," the blonde snaps.

"Do you?" Three asks again.

"Yes," Rasa says through gritted teeth. The woman's face swims before her eyes. Rasa's happy she can't make it out anymore. Wishes she'd never recognized it to begin with. She curses her weakness, the stupid, illogical emotion. If only she were crying for her own impending demise. That would make more sense. That would be less pathetic.

"Okay." Three says. She stands and leaves, the blonde on her tail. Through a film of water she sees them slip into their helmets. She lunges, uselessly, for the Harrier. She gets to her feet, alive and unsure, stumbles out into the hallway.

Kaidan appears around a corner, waves her toward him. "Brooks! Come on!"


It's just like the old days. Shooting everything in sight, not bothering to take names. Cerberus is a pain in the ass. He can't say it feels good to see them come into the one place in the galaxy that has been a safe haven and tear it apart—but it sure does feel good to be kicking ass with Shepard again.

Can't explain it. In some ways he doesn't want to. It feels good. Right. And still… he doesn't want to get too comfortable. Shepard is a screw-up. Has been. Was? Lost half the damned crew on the Suicide Mission, lost Tali… Spirits. He imagines there will be a time when that stops hurting. It can't come soon enough. It'll come too soon. Not to mention Shepard pointed a damned gun at him, told him to get off the ship.

She acts like none of it ever happened. In some ways, he wants to forget too but he can't afford to. Can't risk it. She wanted him to stay on the ship, told him she needed him. Shepard's always been better at threats than placations, but he can't deny she's drawing him in. Truth is, he's missed this, missed her, missed their back and forth, their digs.

She's fighting Cerberus as if every ounce of her being depends on it. He hasn't seen one instance of hesitation, when she might have considered mercy. Something's going on with her and Liara. He can't put his finger on it. Not that things have been great between the two for a while, but this is different. There's something new and heavy between them that he can't get a fix on.

Now they're fighting on elevators. Exciting at first but he's quickly over it. They drop through an elevator hatch and move out into the open, Shepard rushing to the front. The councilors are in sight, along with Kaidan and a woman in an Alliance uniform that Garrus doesn't recognize. She took a bullet, bleeds from a shoulder. Shepard sees her, stops abruptly in her tracks before looking away. She scans the area, looking, no doubt, for the assassin. A scorched, ruined shuttle smokes nearby.

Udina looks at Shepard fearfully, maybe hatefully. The Alliance officer slinks down, cowering behind the glass, looking at Shepard surreptitiously. Everyone that meets her has a habit of doing that.

"Shepard," Kaidan glances at the Alliance officer, who shakes her head, keeping it down fearfully. 'What are you doing here?" He removes the Predator from its holster and points it at her. Shepard freezes before snapping the Carnifex out from her side. "Man." He looks at her sadly. "I really didn't want to believe it."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She shakes her head. "I'm not here to fight, Kaidan. I've got an assassin to kill. He hasn't arrived. Which is too bad for me, but lucky for the rest of you. Garrus, that door sealed behind us?"

He punches it locked. "Affirmative, Shepard."

Kaidan moves forward, pistol still trained on Shepard. "I know why you're here. I know you planned all of this…!" Garrus flinches, even if Liara doesn't move, keeps her Shuriken lowered. "They brought you back. You thought you owed them favors… Man," his voice shakes, "I really thought you were better than all of this. I wanted to believe in you."

"It isn't true, Kaidan," she says firmly. "I don't know what pile of shit Udina's been filling your head with, but I don't blame him for wanting to get in your good graces." She smiles thinly. "I have a different theory. I'm betting Udina's the one working with Cerberus—"

"What?" Udina sputters. "This is preposterous!" He glances at the Alliance officer, Kaidan, the other councilors. "Shepard has openly admitted to working with Cerberus! Chances are she still is!" He goes over to the console. "I'm opening the door. We're fish in a barrel out here—"

"That expression again," Garrus lifts the Mattock and is left unsure of who to point it at. He starts with Udina and lets it wander over to Kaidan. "Shepard has an awful temper. You'd probably better do as she says."

"Open the door!" Kaidan orders Udina. The councilor smirks. "Lower the gun, Shepard. I wanted to trust you. I've seen enough to know I can't." Garrus hears Shepard's breathing, unsteady through the helmet. "Come on. I don't want to have to put you down."

"Think you can?"

"Yeah. If I have to."

The door mechanism is unlocking behind them. "Damn it, Kaidan, there's a swarm of Cerberus soldiers and an assassin right behind that door," Shepard growls. She steps forward. Kaidan starts to pull the trigger. Shepard's finger isn't on the trigger. She has to know. She's Shepard. She has to know. Garrus shoots.

It's so quiet outside. The bullet is a click. The air is crisp and cool. Kaidan looks at him, at them, a hand over his heart as he slumps down.

"Kaidan!" Liara shouts, goes to him. Shepard is still. Garrus is still. He feels the weight of the assault rifle like never before. His mandibles flex slowly. The air is suffocating.

The Alliance woman watches the scene. Liara places a hand over Kaidan's chest but the blood keeps coming. He's pale and wheezing. Garrus figures he has seconds. He shot him. Why'd he shoot him…? Because he said what Garrus had always suspected…? Because he was going to destroy their one shot at winning this war? He feels sick.

Tevos and Sparatus are petrified. Udina is unmoved, continuing to work on the console. Tevos shakes her head. "Don't open the door." Udina reaches behind his back, pulls out a gun, throws Tevos to the ground.

Garrus is still frozen. Liara is preoccupied. Shepard takes one step forward, sinks a bullet between Udina's eyes. Tevos screams. Udina managed to unlock the mechanism. The doors open behind them. No one's there, until moments later when Bailey and his men arrive.

The Council forgotten, Shepard sinks next to Kaidan, taps his face gently. "Hey, Kaidan. Come on. You can survive this." He blinks slowly, his breathing raspy. He pushes her away weakly. Moments later he's still.

Shepard takes the helmet off, flings it. It bounces around the small balcony before coming to rest in front of the Alliance woman. Shepard's sweaty and pale, shaking. She has her hands over her eyes, as if wanting to shut the world away. Liara doesn't look at her. The Council looks frightfully behind the door. Garrus can't manage to see anything. The Alliance woman touches the helmet as if it were fire.


The last few days on the Citadel have gone by in a blur.

Shepard has spent nights and days searching for any security weaknesses, talking to Bailey and the Council, accounting for the damage done to the space station. The attack has left too many dead. The evidence is on the bloodstained steps and walls, shattered glass, burned rooms, bullet-riddled corpses that haven't been cleaned up yet.

The Council reinstates her into the Spectres, their previous doubts about her alleviated. Her palm print doesn't perfectly match their records. She tells them not all her parts are original. They accept the explanation and update their records. It's anticlimactic at best. Jane Shepard is truly dead and gone. She's taken her place. She's a Spectre. She doesn't feel good or worthy of any of it. Nobody's there to witness the induction ceremony.

She meanders through the Citadel, observing the Keepers. How do they know what to do? Where do they come from? She tries to remember the salarian who had her scan them. Chorban. She eventually grew bored with it, decided it wasn't worth her time and moved on, but now she's curious again. They work so diligently, so purposefully, in perfect synchronicity. Who or what guides them? Why doesn't anybody question it?

She suspects she's trying to get her mind off things. Kai Leng got away. Hope is around somewhere, pretending to be an Alliance officer. Kaidan is dead. Liara is furious with her. Garrus is…

She sighs. The apartment she rented is too big for one and its vastness makes her feel lonely. She heats up a cup of noodles in the microwave. She's never been a big cook and her mother didn't exactly teach her. You don't have a mother. She bites her tongue, listening to the incessant, annoying beeping of the microwave, going to the window to stare out. The sun has just set and the stars and moon are crawling into the faux-sky. Fourteen hours of day, six hours of night. She prefers the night to the cheerful blue expanse and sunlight.

There's a delicate knock on the door. She hesitates. She's not used to visitors. She picks up the Carnifex from the kitchen counter and goes to the door. Oriana stands there, looking older than before, sharper. Her eyes settle on Shepard's face, meets her eyes until Shepard looks away. What the hell is she doing here? "Ori—… ana," she shakes her head, "uh— guess Miranda found you."

Oriana's eyes are bright, glistening. "May I come in, Commander?"

"Oh. Yeah, okay." She steps aside and Oriana wanders in. Shepard frowns. She shouldn't be here, nor is she sure how much Miranda would like it if she were there. Is she still with Hope? What the hell was Hope doing with the Council and Kaidan? She doesn't want to think about it. Another Cerberus plot, maybe? She can't be sure. She sets the pistol back on the counter and opens the fridge. "I've got some ramen heating up if you're game?"

"I'll pass. Getting real tired of ramen, you know?"

"Yeah, I bet." She stares at the fridge, swallows the lump in her throat. "How's Miranda?"

"Okay. Told me how you showed up and saved the day. Thanks, by the way. I heard about the Spectre thing. Congrats." Shepard nods absently. She grabs Oriana a beer, uncapping it and setting it in front of her. Oriana bows her head, smiles. "Thanks."

"Sure." She retrieves the cup of noodles from the microwave, slowly pulling the cap back and setting the noodles on the counter. Oriana stands opposite, looking around the apartment, looking at her. Shepard remembers grabbing her on Thessia. She has the same face but looks like a different person. Her eyes are sure and determined; despite the exhaustion there's a spark of mischief in them.

"I heard about what happened. Um, with that Kaidan guy and… Kai Leng?" She asks tentatively. Shepard frowns. "He was your friend, right? The first guy?" Shepard bites her tongue, clears her throat. "You want to talk about it?"

"With you?" her derisive laugh isn't quite. She has a bite of ramen, much too hot, surprisingly spicy. "I'm okay. But thanks, kid."

"This place is huge," she looks around. "You wouldn't believe the little closets 'Randa and I have been sleeping in. You throw Rasa in there and it's a tight squeeze. Not the sexy kind—I mean—" she wrinkles her nose, "actually, I don't know what I mean." She laughs softly. Shepard smiles wryly. "Hey. I've really missed you, Grace." Shepard stops, the ramen half way up to her mouth. That name… it makes her… It's hard to breathe— Oriana looks at her. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong—"

Shepard reaches across, takes her arms. Tries to lie—can't, somehow. This is the girl who took her life, gave her life, exposed her for what she was, knew that she herself was the same. Without Oriana would she have started her rampage? Would she have ever gotten back onto the Normandy, been with Garrus again, kissed Liara again— She shakes her head, can hardly speak, "Don't call me that—you can't—Ori, you can't—"

A flush of color crawls up her cheeks, a smile unlike she's ever seen on Miranda. "I won't. I promise."

Shepard draws a breath. She's holding on too tightly. She lets go. Oriana rubs her arms faintly. Shepard finds napkins to clean up the mess on the counter. Oriana watches her.

"You have to tell Rasa," Oriana says. Shepard tries to swallow, can't. "Why didn't you tell her? Me and 'Randa, I get that—but Rasa—"

"It's not your business—"

"But it is. Do you know how long I've had to deal with her moping after you? First after you ran off to Earth and since she's thought you were dead? It's killing her, Grace." Shepard stops cleaning, balls up the napkins and dumps them and the noodles into the trash. She runs the water hot and washes her hands. Oriana moves to stand beside her. "Hey. Look at me." Shepard shuts the water off. Looks at her. Oriana smiles faintly. "I know you guys fought. Maybe you didn't like her plan but it was the right plan, right? That other Shepard was working with Cerberus. And now you're here and you're doing all right. What would have happened if she hadn't woken you? Maybe the Council and everyone on the Citadel would be dead."

"Hope, Rasa, whatever her name is, only cares about one thing: getting what she wants. I was only ever a means to an end for her. I'm a lone wolf. She's a lone wolf."

Oriana wilts gently. "You idiot. Isn't it obvious that she's in love with you?" Shepard squares her jaw, the air burning in her lungs. Is she…? It's what she's always wanted. That was before. And it isn't possible. She said it wasn't possible. For you. For her. She remembers all those times she yelled at Hope, Rasa, whoever, for calling her an "it," for not treating her like a person. Later, Rasa told her that she was special, that she had a greater purpose, that she was Jane Shepard. Grace was only ever meant to be temporary.

"She's been acting like a zombie since you 'died'," Oriana air quotes, going on. "She's reckless and impulsive—like she's got a death wish or something. Come on. Please talk to her. Please tell her. It's the right thing to do."

Why should she? The last thing she needs is to engage with her. It's been easier to adopt this life without her presence, her interference. Seeing her again could suck her back in. It would be confusing as hell. And still, during the coup, Hope, Rasa, whoever, was there. Why? She was injured, bleeding. Shepard hates that she wants to see her, wants to talk to her, needs to know she's okay, no matter how confusing, disappointing, infuriating, it's likely to be. She could deny the request. She could detox, wean herself off Hope/Rasa/whoever—get her out of her system. But won't she always be addicted, in some way, unless she abstains?

Don't be stupid. You have a new life. Your old life. You're not Grace. You're Jane. It will be all right. It will be just fine. "Fine," Shepard says, "I'll think about it."