Ohhhhhh man. Am I sorry or what.

Couple quick things then I'll let you get to it.

1. This chapter has been written for a while, but the next chapter, 17, was an absolute horror to write. It has literally taken me since the previous upload to now to finish it, and I'm still not 100% with it, but it gets us to where we need to be.

2. The chapter after, 18, was written before 17, and was super fun.

3. Chapter 19 and 20 are also written.

I'll be spacing out this upload, and chapters 17 through 20 so that gives me time to wrestle with 21. Again, sorry for the delay but hopefully the build up will be worth it.

Chapter Sixteen: The Sisters at the Soiree

There was a ringing in Shepard's ears. The oppressive silence that causes all sound to merge into one, single droning tone. He couldn't tell you what she had said. He couldn't tell you what had been said to him prior her appearance.

"… -Shepard?" Ash's question felt far away. He stared, stared so hard that he was sure she could feel it, but Miranda never stared back. The consummate professional, Miranda continued with her speech.

It wasn't a long speech, but it could have easily been years for Shepard. Time seemed to slow, collapse in on itself, and like the final days of a dying star, Shepard felt the energy in him surging, racing to find an outlet.

But she was here, in front of all these people, he couldn't just walk up and … and what? What was he supposed to say? Somehow he didn't think that "I guess this is a bad time to say hi?" wasn't going to cut it. He couldn't go all Gone with the Wind and pull her into a passionate kiss, but similarly he couldn't just stand here and do nothing.

His indecision rolled through his head, but in the end, his decision was made for him.

It was the crowd that woke him from his haze. One of the attendees knocked into his shoulder as they moved to enter the art gallery. Their brief apology thrown over their shoulder was the first thing Shepard was conscious of hearing.

Ash's "Shepard? Hey, are you listening to me?" was the second.

He blinked, and shook himself to awareness.

"What?" He replied, a little punch drunk.

"I said," Ash continued, "You okay? You spaced out there for a minute?"

"Yeah, Ash. I'm … I'm fine." Shepard shook his head again, before looking over to see Miranda chatting to a guest, turning to walk into the gallery.

Ashley looked towards the space that was capturing Shepard's attention, before her eyes widened and she quickly turned her eyes back to Shepard.

"Did … Did you know?" She asked, hesitantly, clearly not really wanting to engage in this conversation considering her history with both Shepard and Cerberus.

Shepard shook his head again, before replying with a quick "Huh?"

"Did you know? That she was the one who organized this?"

She took Shepard's silence at face value.

"Shit. I thought that Vega would have told you."

Shepard continued to stare after the crowd that was entering the gallery.

Ashley cleared her throat. "Well, I'd better get back to it." Ash replied uncertainly, "You okay Shepard?"

"Yeah." Shepard replied, more authority returning to his voice, "Yeah Ash, I'm good. You go, I've got to-" he gestured towards the art gallery entrance, where all the attendees were filing in.

"Yeah. Okay." She hesitated, before jogging back towards Admiral Hackett, leaving Shepards with his thoughts.

Of course she was here, where else would she be? Her intelligence would have made her an asset on the Crucible, and then once the project had been finished, she would have been stationed on an Alliance ship - Hackett would have made sure her talents weren't wasted, possibly putting her in a medical wing?

Had Hackett known about them? Few people had, and even fewer of those people would be on Earth. Ashely had clearly figured something out from Shepard's complete loss of words, but how much had she known before? The last time Ashley had seen Shepard and Miranda together had been on Horizon during the Collector invasion. James hadn't seen them together in person, he'd stayed on board the Normandy while they raided Sanctuary, so he had focused on the targets for tonight, and no one but the Communications Tech had heard their final vidcon on Earth. But Hackett? He might have suspected. But no, he would have said something.

It occurred to Shepard then, that there was a real possibility that no one was aware that the poster boy for the Alliance and the former Cerberus second in command had begun and continued a - a what? What were they? He knew what he wanted - a flash of a dream, a white picket fence, some kids maybe, passed briefly across his mind - but what did she want? Was this going to be Liara all over again? He'd died sure, but he'd made his intentions clear, hadn't he? Doubt crept into his thoughts then, wrapping itself around his torso like a bullet proof vest, making it hard to breath.

Whatever they had been, could that be enough for them to pickup where they left off? Would she want to? Would she even want to see him?

In that moment Shepard knew one thing, and one thing only: he had to talk to Miranda Lawson, and he had to talk to her alone.

—

The inside of the art gallery was beautiful. While it had been modern, and open plan during the 21st century, the beginning of the 22nd had seen a resurgence in Georgian re-design, and the interior now looked like an old library minus the books. Art hung on the walls, although now it was an eclectic mix, from Asari to Elcor, from Volus to Turian.

Shepard stepped inside the door, feeling the weight of the building close around him. His eyes snapped to the back of the room, where Miranda and Oriana were in discussion, looking at a data pad between them, their backs to the rest of the room.

To their right, a white canvas with a jumble of pinks, red and oranges splashed across it was resting on an easel - it put Shepard in mind of a sunset - while to their left was another podium with an austere man in a tight grey suit, chatting to another man in a pair of white gloves. That must be the auctioneer and his assistant Shepard mused. The rest of the room was filled with rows of chairs, their sleek modernism looking out of place in the faux-aged room.

As the rest of the guests took their seats, Shepards gaze swept over Miranda once more. Shepard had to admit, she looked good - she smiled more, she positively beamed when she talked with Oriana.

He hung close to the wall, relying on the blandness of his security suit to make him invisible to most of the guests. He was close, almost close enough to reach out and touch her arm.

"- when we get through the Asari paintings, we have that Turian statue." It was Oriana who spoke.

"Humm." Miranda hummed, "Turian art is rare outside of Palaven. Luckily some of the Turian survivors were happy to create this piece for us - hopefully we can generate enough interest to get more of them into more suitable housing. The pre-fab units are still mostly built for Human and Asari refugees."

A frown appeared between Miranda's eyebrows as she studied the data pad, only relaxing into a smile when Oriana placed her hand on Mirandas arm.

"We'll get it, Randa."

"I know we will, Ori." She smiled at her sister then, a real smile, that reached her eyes.

As Shepard continued to watch the pair, he smiled under his mask. It was clear to see the pride in Miranda's face as she looked at Oriana, and it was obvious that Oriana had grown into a confident, capable woman.

Shepard was so absorbed in the touching moment between the two sisters, he didn't see Renard approach until his hand touched Miranda's lower back. The moment between the sisters was broken, but they still responded with polite happiness at the interruption.

"Ladies." His smooth accent rippled with a warmth born of a man who knew he commanded attention, coupled with a light dusting of alcohol giving his words a barely noticeable slur. "The evening has been magnificent."

"Leo," Miranda responded with a light laugh, "the evening has hardly begun."

Shepard's frowned. His attention drawn to the fact that Renard had not yet removed his hand from Miranda's back, nor had Miranda attempted to brush it off.

"We have some fantastic items up for sale tonight, Mr. Renard. I think you'd be personally interested in lot number four." Oriana passed Renard the data pad, and as Renard took it and looked down at the details Shepard saw his hand trail lazily in circles, right above an area that would be considered indecent in present company.

Shepards focus contracted, his breathing slowed. He had to catch himself from marching over there and … his thoughts were interrupted by Renard response.

"Well, Miss Lawson, while I do have a love for abstract Asari art, unfortunately I will be unable to stay." He passed the data pad back to Oriana.

"Leo!" Miranda admonished, finally stepping away from the man, a frown forming between her eyebrows as she folded her arms and rested her weight on one leg. Shepard found himself smiling at the involuntary Lawsonism.

"Ahh, Miranda, you wound me with your gaze." Renard placed both hands over his heart before bowing his head slightly, "but I cannot stay. An employee of mine has found themselves in need of some assistance, and I would not deny them my help." He paused, before a small, predatory smile crossed his face, "regardless of how beautiful the other option for company is."

Miranda rolled her eyes, before allowing Renard to place a chaste kiss on each of her cheeks. Renard turned and bowed to Oriana before striding towards the front door.

"Alpha One?" Shepard called into his helmet mic.

"Go ahead, Shep." Vega's response was immediate.

"Not sure if this was in the plan for tonight, but Blueprint has just left the gallery."

"What? No. He was down to attend the full evening. Alpha three, do you have eyes on Swordfish?"

"Alpha three here. Swordfish is Code four. Currently with Williams and sitting third row from the-"

Shepard was snapped from the radio chatter by Oriana's laughter, ringing clearly across the idle chatter of the rest of the auction guests.

"Will you be quiet?" Miranda whispered to her sister. "It's not like that and you know it."

"Sure, Randa. Sure." Oriana "Im sure Renard was rushing off to meet some more, what did he call it? Beautiful company?"

"Oh, shush you." Miranda scolded. Oriana laughed again, clearly enjoying winding up her sister. "Look, you should go and sit down. I'll get Charles to get started." Oriana smirked at her sister before walking over to the front row of chairs and sitting down next to Houghton.

Shepard watched as Miranda walked over to the auctioneer, and the two began a brief and quick conversation. The distance and the chatter across the room made it impossible for Shepard to hear what they discussed, and just as he was about to subtly try and make his way closer, James Vega appeared by his side.

"All quiet on the western front, Loco?"

Shepard stared at James, momentarily confused by the question. He shook his head to clear it before reality set back in.

"Yeah. Sorry, James. Distracted for a minute there."

"I know what you mean." James responded, eyeing Miranda appreciatively.

Shepard glared at him from behind his mask before James shook his own head and said

"Think you can keep an eye on her?" James used his head to gesture towards Miranda, "I don't think Iaso would be a target for anyone, but seeing as I'm babysitting Houghton and his lady, it would be silly to leave Lawson number one without cover."

Shepard stared at James. He didn't know. He couldn't know. Shepard wracked his brain to think if James had ever even met Miranda before the end of the war. This was just a commanding officer giving an order to protect an important civilian - their entire purpose for being there tonight. But why Miranda? And why Shepard? He didn't know, did he?

For James' part, he watched Shepard stare at him, confused as too why Shepard was seemingly taking such a long time to respond. This was a premium gig, Lawson senior was hot, and James was sure any of his men would jump at the chance to have an excuse to watch her work. Given all that Shepard had been through, this seemed like a nice, small reward - it wasn't even going to be that difficult, watch a beautiful woman, try not get bored out of your mind by rich folk bidding on shit they didn't need.

When Shepard still didn't answer, but continued staring at him, James cleared his throat before saying

"Hey Shepard? I can find someone else if you don't want-"

"No, no." Shepard cut in, perhaps a little too quickly, judging my James' knowing smile, "I can watch her."

James smiled. "I'll bet, Commander." James raised his eye brows in response, before nodding and disappearing back towards Houghton and Oriana.

Shepard turned back to watch Miranda. She had moved over to his side of the room now, and was standing with her back to the wall, observing the guests, Ominitool aglow on her wrist.

The banging of a hammer against the wooden podium pulled Shepard's focus back to the auctioneer, and Shepard sighed, settling in for what he assumed would be a very boring next few hours.

How wrong he was.