As always, a huge thank you to everyone who's following this story. Bioware owns nearly everything.

Chapter Fifty-Two – Mirrors

The firing range rang with the clamour of the rifle. She paused, easing her finger off the trigger, adjusting her stance slightly so that the stock was pulled in tighter. Briefly she closed her eyes, the blankness there resolving into Shepard – into herself, no, not yet, not yet, she thought furiously – and how she knew how she – they both, now - moved.

How she had dragged it out from every piece of evidence she'd been given, every piece Rasa – or whatever the hell she was calling herself today, wherever she was – had handed over.

The useless promo shots, all glossed up and slick but not quite able to mask the way Shepard held herself, light and limber and poised. Interviews from after Elysium, after the Spectre ceremony, where she stood stiff-shouldered in gleaming dress blues. Combat footage, some of it from inside the Citadel, others snipped from security data out of Noveria, and others, more recent, mined from Benning and Gellix.

She'd watched and watched until she'd been able to echo them, movements eventually surging out of memory and instinct. Until finally she'd flicked on a new batch of footage, and guessed Shepard's plan, and guessed right.

It wasn't perfect, and she suspected it might never be, with the way she knew Shepard saw terrain, how she surveyed it fast and always reconsidering, always adjusting.

"Do you remember anything? Anything at all?"

"No." She was rigid with anger, with the ignorance of it, with how she could not form the words fast enough. With how every time she leaned too far forward, the dizziness swelled up and staggered up. With how Rasa had to steady her each time she moved, her feet sliding.

"You're certain," Rasa said coldly.

"I've told you. We've been over this. There aren't any," she said and swallowed, her voice thickening on the lie, the half-truth of it. "There aren't any whispers. Memories. Whatever you want to call them."

And there were none, she was certain, none that she could make sense of. Only feelings, and reactions, and the way she slept badly and often jolted awake and desperately searched for the floor, for the mattress, for whatever was underneath her.

To see that it was still solid. To see that it was still there.

"Alright." Rasa gestured to the table again, to the glowing spread of the datapads. "Let's go over it again."

Early days filled with core-deep agony while she learned how to move again. While she understood that she'd been woken slightly too early, early enough that it had hurt, hooks under her skin and in her gut. Bits and pieces, she'd been told, and after she'd screamed that it wasn't true, couldn't be true, she had been shown, juddering footage of white-walled rooms and the slow patience of scientists going about their work while the Illusive Man waited.

Bits and pieces left over just in case. Just in case something failed to catch, or stay, or knit itself back together in quite the way Lawson had wanted.

The door slid open. Instead of turning, she barked out, "Yeah, what?"

Silence followed, as if the woman was eying the targets, the haze in the air, the coiled way she was standing. "News from Rannoch."

She laughed. "What did she do?"

She turned, holding one hand out for the report, the findings, whatever it was Shepard had done.

The woman paused, a datapad in one hand. "I'll want to know your thoughts."

"Course."

"I wouldn't underestimate her."

"I haven't."


Shepard leaned over the console, her gaze dipping briefly to the rapid movement of Liara's hands as she scrolled through the lines of information there.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "That's it. All Lawson sent through."

Five hours ago she'd stepped back onto the Normandy, vaguely considering that it was deeply unfair that half her crew had gotten rostered for half-day Citadel downtime while she'd spent an hour wrangling with a secure connection through to Lawson.

"It's more than we had before," Liara said. "She's been aware of Kai Leng's movements for some time."

"Yeah, but there's still a huge gap between her getting assigned to the Lazarus Project and him sticking his head up on the Citadel." She frowned. "Lazarus Project. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to call it that?"

Liara smiled, the motion of it softening her face. "There are worse titles."

"Yeah, they could've called it the Digging Me Up Project. Or the Stick the Bits Back Together Project."

"Very funny." Liara shifted away from the console and added, "There will be something else in there. Something that links him to other information. He's not a ghost. And even if he was, I'd still find a way to trace him."

Shepard laughed. "I'd believe it, too."

"What are your thoughts on her father?"

"Henry Lawson." She shrugged. "I'll go with Lawson's instinct that he's not playing nice, and that he's a danger."

"But is he only a danger to his own daughters, or is he in deep enough with Cerberus to cause friction?"

She pushed a hand through her hair. "Glad to know I'm not the only one who wondered that."

"Do you trust her?"

Shepard hesitated. "Yeah. I do. She hasn't been Cerberus since we walked out of the Collector base. Not sure whether she was when we walked in, either."

"It can be difficult to separate yourself from something that has been a huge part of your identity," Liara said carefully.

"Yeah, I know. I hear you. But whatever else Lawson's up to, she won't fuck us over. I know that much."

"What was the price?"

"For the intel? I've allocated Alliance resources for her. Credits mainly, limited access to information as and if she requires in the future, all to be okayed by me."

Liara nodded. "I understand."

She straightened up, aware of the knotted strain at the back of her neck when she moved too fast. "Okay. I'm going to go waste time before plunging headfirst into my reports."

Liara laughed. "I admire your work strategy, as always."

At the door she paused, one hand hovering over the keypad. "You okay in here?"

Liara blinked, as if she had not quite been expecting the question. "Ah, yes. Of course. Lots of work to do."

"Don't drive yourself mad," Shepard said wryly.

She stepped out into the corridor, discovering that the mess hall was bustling, the air thrumming with conversation. She paused long enough to find coffee, ignoring Vega's resigned glance when she gave into impatience and filled the mug with less-than-boiling water. She ensconced herself beside Garrus, her knee brushing his. Wrapping her hands around the mug she listened to the familiar lilt of their voices around her.

"No, it doesn't quite work that way," Kaidan said, his hands curled on the table.

"Well, fine," Vega replied. "But you know, if I was a Spectre, I'd want to know who all the other Spectres are. Just because."

Shepard laughed. "Given all the bad luck I've had running into other Spectres, that might not be a bad idea."

"Hey," Kaidan said in mild protest, before he smiled.

"Look at it this way. Two out of the only three other Spectres I've met before have tried to kill me."

"Kryik and Arterius," Kaidan said. "And?"

"We ran into a Spectre on Ilium," she said. "Tela Vasir. She and I had a disagreement about exactly how Spectre resources should be used."

"You tried to drop a skycar on her," Garrus said drily.

"It worked. To a point, at least."

"It was a mess," he retorted.

"That whole night was a mess."


Hours later, Shepard ambled out of the shower, loosely clad in a towel, her hair sodden and the rest of her tracking droplets across the floor. Deliberately, she left the door wide, the heat and the steam spilling through behind her.

Sitting on the couch, a datapad balanced across one knee, Garrus looked up. He eyed the wet shining patches of her footprints and said, "You were the worst person in the barracks in basic, weren't you?"

"Hey, everyone's the worst person in the barracks in basic. Least I wasn't the snorer."

"That you know of."

"Fair point." She flopped beside him. "God. That was so long ago. You know what I still remember?"

He shook his head silently.

"Learning that early morning has a completely different definition when it's your sergeant getting you up."

Garrus laughed. "Weapons maintenance for me. Wasn't that I couldn't do it – I could – but that part about getting your ass kicked because you took two seconds longer than the guy next to you."

She grinned. "Happens to us all. You just end up learning fast."

"And then hoping someone else's ass gets kicked next time."

She leaned against the slope of his shoulder, water dripping into his collar. "Something Lawson said stuck with me."

"She continuing to shock by actually displaying recognizable emotion occasionally?"

Shepard snorted. "Not just that. She said when she was put in charge of the – well, the project, the restoration project – "

He must've heard the way her voice wavered – stupid, she though, fucking stupid that it still had its hooks in her – because he settled an arm around her and waited, waited for her to steel herself.

"She said the Illusive Man recommended a, well. A control chip."

"A what? And is it as awful as it sounds?"

Shepard smiled. "Yeah. His reasoning was that I was a complete unknown to them. And that maybe I'd spent quite a bit of time blowing up Cerberus facilities, tidying up their problems whether they wanted it or not, and generally not being all that well predisposed to them."

"One way of putting it," Garrus said.

"Hey, if you're going to go breed rachni with few to no safeguards in place, then you don't get to complain when they break out and kill everyone." She reached for his free hand, sliding her fingers between both of his. "I guess he wanted me on a leash."

"Is it weird that them breeding rachni worried me less than that place where we found them trying to replicate whatever the hell the thorian could do?"

Wincing, she shook her head. "Thinking on it, no, probably not weird."

She felt the low rumble of his laughter in answer before he said, "What was Lawson's response?"

"She refused. Flat-out. Her reasoning was that changing me meant I wouldn't be me."

His hand tightened over her hip, squeezing. "She's not wrong."

"Yeah. Course, to her, me being me meant a higher possibility of mission success. It just – God, I don't know why this is getting to me."

"It's getting to you because it's a hell of a thing to hear," he said gently. "Whichever way you look at it. Means the Illusive Man's even more of a bastard than we thought, and that Lawson's even more calculating than we thought."

Shepard laughed, startling herself. "True enough."

Softly he smoothed his fingers through the soaked mess of her hair, parting the strands. "Feels strange," he said, when she arched her eyebrows at him. "When it's wet. Heavier."

"Funny how that happens," she said, deadpan.

"Well, it's not like I spent a whole lot of time touching humans' hair before we got together," he protested.

She laughed again, her shoulders shaking. "Good to know."

"It wasn't that funny."

"Yes, it was."

The comm station on the desk buzzed, and Liara said, "Shepard, I'm sorry to bother you."

"No problem. What's up?"

"I've just had an incoming request from Asari High Command."

Shepard blinked. "They want help?"

"They have a commando team who've stopped reporting in."

She straightened up. "Does this mean recon or mopping up for us?"

"Maybe a little of both. It's complicated."

"Okay. I'll be there in ten minutes."


The monastery was a wreck, Shepard noted, huge holes already torn through the high windows, letting in snow and the bitter wind off the mountains. Emergency lighting threw pale pools of illumination across the walkways, brushing chairs and tables and blank consoles. Fifteen minutes since they'd cleared the landing area, and already they'd noted four dead commandos and the stink of smoke.

She tapped her comm and said, "Liara, you still reading us up there?"

"Clear," Liara answered.

"We're finding nothing," she said briskly. "Wherever these asari are, they're well hidden."

"Reaper movement?"

"Nothing we've seen yet. We'll keep you updated."

"Thank you, Commander."

Her gaze on the unhelpful darkness of the corridor ahead, Shepard advanced slowly, the others trailing her. Garrus snapped his flashlight on first, the beam slicing the shadows and revealing only another room, as empty and as still.

"So," Vega said. "I'm still not clear on the whole Ardat-Yakshi thing."

"I've only ever had the fortune to run into one of them," Shepard responded wryly. "I'm hoping the ones here are somewhat different."

"Have to be, right?" Kaidan said. "Here because they're aware of how dangerous they are."

"Yeah, but it's one thing to cloister yourself away during peacetime. Whole other when there's Reaper troops crawling around."

"Yeah, but Commander, you said they basically eat people's brains," Vega said. "Or minds."

"That part's true," she said absently. "Don't worry, Vega. We'll protect you and your brain."

"Thanks, Commander. So much."

The corridor swept up to steps, sloping down into a high domed hall, the glass shimmering and punched through in places, fragments littering the floor beneath. The stillness clung here, Shepard thought, heavy and cloaking the stiff angles of closed doors and the fringing green ferns that arched up alongside the pillars.

Slow minutes took them deeper into the monastery, through a narrow warren of corridors and past small bunk-rooms, all of them sparse and white-walled. When the ceiling opened up above them again, she paused, noticing more pillars and the pristine lines of railings and tables.

"Shepard," Garrus said tersely. "Reading movement. Straight ahead."

She followed his gaze to the gloom of another archway. "Find cover and let's watch our timing. On the optimistic chance we're about to run into one of the asari and she just wants to talk, let's look before we shoot."

Shoulder pressed against one of the pillars, she stood poised, her eyes locked onto the archway. Eventually – slowly, painfully slowly – the silence gave way to footsteps, and then sloping shadows jagging their way across the floor. Shepard frowned, squinted, tried to make sense of just what she was looking at, and hefted her rifle.

They were asari, she thought, or they had been, their limbs all lengthened and dragging. One of them lifted a clawed hand, biotic energy rippling around clenched fingers. Behind, another jerked forward, jaw dropping open before she shrieked. No, Shepard thought, she'd howled, keened, as if she was trying to shatter the air itself.

"Well," Garrus muttered. "That's new."

"Going to need a new name for this lot," Shepard responded.

Another surge of energy carried the asari forward, the others following.

"Floating screaming nightmare? Thing that I never wish to lay eyes on again?"

"Works for me," she said, gauging the distance to the first asari.

She moved, twisting away from the pillar, her first shot clipping the asari's shoulder. The asari staggered slightly, her biotics flaring blue and fierce. The second round toppled the asari's leg, and when she hit the ground, Garrus' follow-up shot shattered her jaw.

The shuddering thump of a grenade scattered the rest of them. A searing wave of biotic energy shivered between the pillars and Shepard hurtled aside, her shields whining. Another followed it, and another, the air glass-thin and singing. Somewhere behind, she heard Vega swearing before the rattle of gunfire drowned his voice.

"How many?" she asked, rolling upright.

"Still got one," Garrus answered. "She's moving."

She turned, her eyes finding the last asari where she hovered – impossibly, it seemed, her whole frame flashing ferociously bright – her hands unfurling.

"Kaidan," she snapped. "Drop her onto the floor."

He nodded, and heartbeats later a heaving rush of biotic energy sent the asari spiraling sideways. When the asari staggered into the pillar Shepard moved, vaulting off one foot. She ploughed into the asari's shoulder, the impetus carrying both of them further. As viciously, she slammed the butt of her rifle into the asari's head. The asari swayed, her whole frame buckling. Shepard spun her rifle, her finger curling over the trigger. The impact blew the back of the asari's head out, her body going loose and heavy as she hit the floor.

"God," Kaidan muttered. "Look at them all."

"Yeah." Shepard swiped sweat from her lips. "Okay. Let's see what else we can find."


The last hours of the day wore through too fast, the CIC bustling and Traynor calling her over to review the afternoon's incoming messages. Afterwards, and after she'd stopped off in the medbay long enough for Chakwas to check over her shoulder, Shepard made her way to Liara's quarters.

There, she discovered Liara still at the flickering spread of her consoles, forehead furrowed. Mildly Shepard said, "You okay?"

"The Lesuss reports," Liara said absently, the smooth lilt of her voice not quite masking the tension in her shoulders. "Forgive me for saying this, but it is one thing to see the evidence from Earth. From Palaven."

"Another to see it happen to your own people," she said softly, understanding. "I get it."

"Did they know? The Reapers, I mean. Did they know they were turning – changing," Liara said, and shuddered. "Did they know their victims were Ardat-Yakshi? And if they did know –"

"How did they know," Shepard said. She spun out the spare chair and sat. "I don't know. It's too easy for me to think of them as mindless. Opportunistic, maybe, but not thinking the way we do."

"They don't think the way we do. That's the point." Liara added, "They think so differently that all we can do is guess, guess wrong, and then attempt to one day guess right."

Sharply, Shepard said, "Do I have to drag you out of here and forcibly pour half a bottle of wine into you to get you to look away from that damn screen?"

Liara froze. Abruptly she laughed, the sound halfway between surprise and relief. She turned finally, her hands sliding on her knees. "No. And I am sorry, Shepard."

"Talk to me," she said, gentler.

"Even after I sent the Lesuss report back through to High Command, they were, well. Exceptionally cagey."

"Even for them?" Shepard asked wryly.

"Even for them." Liara tipped her head to one side before she said, "We've been officially thanked, and they would like to keep in contact. Information exchange, that sort of thing."

Shepard frowned. "I thought they'd been operating under a strict shore up your own borders policy."

"They have and they still are, to an extent. But they can't ignore Tuchanka or Rannoch."

"Or Cerberus." She scrubbed a hand across the back of her neck. "Okay. They want to lend aid, talk possible negotiations, I'll listen. I'd appreciate it if you'd help me wade through the politics."

Liara smiled. "You haven't been doing all that badly."

"Miraculous, I'd call it," she said archly. "Besides, on Tuchanka, I just followed Wrex around, and on Rannoch, Tali did all the talking."

"It worked," Liara said, firmer. "Full settlement on Rannoch will take years, and it won't be easy, but it will happen."

Shepard smiled unsteadily. "Years," she echoed. "You think so?"

"I have to think so."

"Yeah. I hear that." She stood, forcing her thoughts blank. "Come on. I promised Vega a round of poker, and I could do with an extra victim."

Liara shot her an unconvincing glare. "How charming."


The shuttle settled, the last low rumble of the engines quieting. When the hatch slid open, Shepard hopped out first, the long hours of the day ruining her balance. She caught at the side of the shuttle and swore. She was aware of the others behind her, moving with that slow, practiced gait that meant you were bone-tired but trying not to let it slip through, not yet.

Garrus trailed her into their quarters, into the blessedly welcome silence there.

Near the gear lockers, she shucked the weight of her weapon harness off and groaned. "Tell me why we keep doing this."

"For the safety and salvation of everyone in the galaxy, and because we know which way round the guns go."

"Waiting a while to use that one, huh?"

He crossed the floor, unhooking his rifle with deft hands. "Well," he said. "I may have been."

Wordlessly she worked her armour off piece by piece before turning to help him with the last of his. After she coaxed him into the shower with her, she discovered bruises and a long open slice that crossed the edge of his shoulder. Very gently she held him under the soft spray, watching as the water sluiced away grime and dirt and thin ribbons of blue blood.

"You're a mess," she said lightly.

"One of those big bastards," he replied.

"You need to learn to duck."

"I did duck," he protested. "Not my fault he did the same thing."

She mopped at the junction of his elbow with soap, and then the slope of his arm above, his skin rough and somehow silvery under the play of the water. "What?" she demanded when she caught him regarding her.

"You know exactly what I look like."

"Yeah, but sometimes I forget." She grinned and turned her attention to the angles of his chest, to the dips and lines of the plates there.

"No, you don't," he said wryly.

"Oh?" Shepard slid her hands down to the jut of his hips and felt the way he shuddered in response. "I can just stop then, if you'd prefer."

Garrus laughed. "Did I say that?"

"Stubborn turian."

Afterwards, when they'd finally dragged themselves back out and onto the damp tangle of the sheets, she bowed her head against his shoulder, branding the sensation of him under her and inside her into her thoughts. As if she could keep the rest of it – the ship, the world, everything – at bay if she simply stayed still.

Gently, his teeth scraped against her neck, lingering over the uneven thrum of her pulse. "Hey," Garrus said without moving. "Okay?"

"Yeah." She smiled, her lips moving against the angles of his mouth, aware of the familiar metallic taste of him. "Long day."


Morning found Kaidan in the briefing room, gritty-eyed and staring at the console screen, his concentration wavering every time he tried to sort through the glowing lines there. The third time, he surrendered and just sat back in the chair, eyes half-closed. When the door opened behind him, he blinked, turning in time to notice Shepard as she stepped inside.

"Hey, Commander."

"Hey." She paused, dropping two datapads onto the table. Her gaze flicked from the first one to him and back again before she stopped, frowning. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine."

"You look like hell," she said baldly.

He laughed. "Yeah. Couldn't sleep. That and, well. Lighting's bad in here."

"Sure it is." She raked another searching look over him. "You keeping up to date with Chakwas?"

"Yes," he said wryly. "You think it's possible to avoid her? That woman knows everything, I swear. And you can't hide anything from her, either."

"That's why she's invaluable," Shepard retorted lightly.

Almost without thinking, he lifted a hand to the back of his neck, fingers digging into the locked tension there. "She is. What's the plan for today?"

She dragged a chair out and sat. "Got a message through earlier from Aria T'Loak. She's on the Citadel, it turns out, and she has extended an offer of alliance."

"I recognize the name." He shrugged. "You worked with her before?"

"I'd say we asked each other a few questions on Omega. It was an information exchange."

"About Garrus."

"Yeah, but we didn't know it was Garrus at that point. I was looking for a merc and hoping I could convince him to stop whatever the hell he was doing and jump onto a Cerberus ship." Lopsidedly she grinned. "Course as it turned out, when you actually know someone, it's easier to get to an agreement."

"I'm sure it was," he said, and winced when he heard his own voice turn sour.

She froze, her gaze darting up and locking on his. "Alright. Just say it."

"What?"

"You want to ask why him? You want to ask what it felt like, finding him on Omega? You want to ask when it started? Really? You think that's got anything to do with you?"

Fiercely he responded, "I know it's got nothing to do with me. Not now."

"But?"

"Christ, you never back down, do you?"

Her grin returned, brief and mirthless. "No reason to start now."

He hesitated, not sure what to say, what he even wanted to say. "I thought – shit, I don't know what I thought."

"Then why are you here?" Shepard asked, her voice closed off, implacable. "You could be anywhere else, doing something useful. Hackett could've used you. Your spec ops kids could've used you. Hell, Kaidan, any squad in the Alliance would be lucky to have you."

The silence rushed back between them, thick and stifling. For long moments he stared down at his own hands, flat against the table. "I'm here because I figured I'd do more good here."

"Right."

Teeth gritted, Kaidan added, "And no, I'm not here because I'm trying to change things. I know I've not handled everything well."

"Give you a gun and a target, and you're fine."

"Yeah, but then you get stuck in downtime," he said ruefully. "Okay. This isn't going to sound convincing. Probably not even going to make much sense."

"That's reassuring," she said drily.

The words rushed out, juddering and raw. "I'm not trying to get between you. I'm not. It just – feels like I've missed so damn much, before Earth and after and I'm running to catch up."

"Okay," she said, her voice level in that way that he knew meant she'd hear him out.

"I wanted so much to blame Cerberus for so much of it. But there you were, telling me you'd worked with them and for them but that that was it. From the outside, it seemed like you should've known more, or been able to do more and I know how damn unfair that sounds."

Softer, she said, "I get it. You never see all the angles unless you're in the middle of it."

"Yeah. And I guess it – look. I missed you," he said, the soft honesty of it startling him. "But I get it. So, ah, can we start this over, maybe? Forget how much of an idiot I've been?"

She laughed, the sound of it unguarded. "Course we can. And you're not an idiot. Not usually, anyway."

"So supportive," he muttered, halfway to smiling. "Thanks, Shepard."

"That's what I'm here for."

"So," Kaidan said, and shrugged helplessly. "You were talking about alliances?"

"Possibilities of," she answered. "I don't know. Aria T'Loak is shrewd as hell on her own turf. But if she's been ousted, she'll be out for blood."

"And we've got time to get in the middle of something like that?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. It'd be easy to say sure, let's welcome anyone who's willing to point weapons at the Reapers. Which is," she admitted. "A fancy way of saying our options are limited at best and unknown at worst."

"Typical day," he said, and almost kept the smile out of his voice.

"Hah." She shoved the datapads across the table. "I figure we start by talking to her."