Update: Re-upload due to a weird formatting issue. Thanks to the guest reviewer who pointed it out!
Update 2: This was the chapter that just did not flow well for me. It's not my best, but we needed to get it out of the way to get to chapter 18.
Chapter Seventeen: The Fight at the Fundraiser
Shepard could not have told you how the rest of the auction progressed. He had no notion of the bidding, or who was spending obscene amounts of money on the art work presented before them. The only measurable passage of time was when the auctioneers gavel came down, and a light smattering of applause broke out at the end of the bidding for each item.
What he could tell you, in great detail, was exactly what Miranda Lawson had done and where her attention was focused during these flurries of activity as number panels were raised and the auctioneer steadily increased the requested value for a specific piece. It seemed she had an open channel on her omni-tool, as she was intermittently muttering commands to her people, either in the crowd or as supporting staff.
"Johnathan, once this round is finished, make sure to get Mrs. Raddison an extra glass of champagne. We are coming up to lot thirteen, and I want her to be loose for the bidding. Ahmed, I want you to bid up to $50,000 then bow out. That is the mid-range of Mr. Gough's bids at previous events and we have every reason to believe that this is where he wants to max out at tonight. Sophie, let's make sure that we get the next lot ready to go quickly, before Mr. Yakobi decides he's had enough of Volus works and leaves."
Shepard smiled slightly under his mask. She was as captivating as ever, and she clearly had no doubts that her instructions would be followed to the letter. Indeed, he saw a smartly dressed waiter arrive with a tray carrying glasses of champagne as the hammer on lot eleven fell, and meander his way over to Mrs. Raddison before offering her a new glass.
As Shepard watched, it was clear to see the happiness radiate from Miranda anytime her gaze fell on her sister. While focusing on her work, Miranda wore a slight frown, a crease appearing between her eyebrows as she surveyed the crowd and then focused on her omni-tool. But as soon as her gaze fell onto Oriana, a lightness came over her features and she radiated pride and happiness. Shepard remembered that look well: it was the same one Miranda had worn when she gushed about Oriana wanting to go into colony development and telling a joke.
The rest of the evening plodded along, in much the same way as the previous hour or so, with Shepard actively watching Miranda, and Miranda intently watching the crowd. Every so often, Shepard would hear his radio crackle into life as a report came in from one of the other security teams, or James relaying orders. Shepard settled into a sort of active boredom, both wishing for the event to be over and simultaneously wishing he had more time to plan, to prepare what he would say when he finally managed to get Miranda alone.
He had just settled on the idea of asking her to come and take a look at something from a security perspective as an attractive method of getting her on her own, when it happened.
Firstly, there was a static crack across his radio, loud enough to be painful, and from what he saw all of the security team had received a similar shock. Secondly, right on the heels of the radio noise, came the deep hum of multiple hovercraft engines. Then came the muffled shouts, accompanied by the soft thuds of close-but-not-right-outside-close gunfire.
Finally came the explosion. It ripped a hole through the far wall of the gallery, showering the mid section of seats with rubble and coating most everything else in a fine layer of grey dust. As the smoke cleared, the gap started to swarm with activity. Men with guns pouring in, reaching the first row of chairs before security had a chance to respond.
Shepard reacted with a speed born of years of combat. He dove behind the nearest cover he could find - a couple of up turned chairs blown back by a slab of cinderblock and concrete - before casting around for his next move. He looked over to his left, and saw that Miranda had also found cover, in a doorway to the right of the podium her hands glowing blue as she retaliated against the invaders. Shepard risked raising his head above the chairs and saw James fighting his way to Oriana and Houghton. Shepard ducked his head back behind his cover, before offering suppression fire to support James. He couldn't see Admiral Hacket, but had to assume that Ashely had reacted quickly and steered her Priority One target to safety. That left Houghton, Oriana and Miranda.
As Shepard ducked back to reload his rifle, he heard a cry from his left. Miranda's cover was being shredded, the old wooden door splintering under the heavy fire from actual ammunition. A group of three invaders had broken away from the main group and were making their way towards Miranda. Glancing back over his cover, Shepard saw that James was still struggling to get any closer to Oriana.
Shepard made up his mind. Sprinting out from behind cover, Shepard fired continually at the group closing in on Miranda, managing to kill one. Briefly distracted, the other two hesitated long enough for Miranda to warp them both into the air, allowing Shepard to shoot them down.
As Miranda began to full step out from her doorway, clearly focused on getting to her sister, Shepard barrelled into her, throwing one arm around her waist and practically dragging her down the corridor behind the doorway. Bullets flashed through the open door with a frightening closeness, and Miranda's brief hesitation between fighting against this seemingly random security personnel who was accosting her and fighting back against the invaders gave Shepard enough time and momentum to get them another hundred feet down the corridor.
As Miranda came to her decision, Shepard was once again saved from needing to fend off a furious Miranda by a hail of bullets shot blindly down the corridor behind them. Luckily, most of the shots were fired without aim, thudding into walls or shattering the fluorescent lights above them, sprinkling both Miranda and Shepard in dust and broken glass.
Shepard risked a glance over his shoulder, using his body to block Miranda from the line of fire, but Miranda was having none of it. Flexing her palm, she performed a jerking movement, and Shepard heard the unmistakable sound of crumbling brickwork. There were a couple of muffled screams, and then a ringing silence. Indistinct voices could be heard, but they sounded far away - or rather, Shepard mused, they sounded like there was a few feet of rubble between him and the speakers.
Both Miranda and Shepard stood there, panting from their respective efforts, listening to hear if the rest of the corridor was about to crash down around them, and into this silence, it was Miranda that spoke first.
"We have to get out of here and back to the main room."
Shepard said nothing, he didn't even move, just stared at Miranda, her eyes glowing with a fierce determination despite the dust that coated her hair and dress.
When Shepard didn't respond, Miranda left out a disgusted noise, rolled her eyes and then turned away from him, eye's casting about the end of the corridor for another door or an exit.
Shepard reacted without thought. He reached out and caught her arm, a gesture that at once seemed both easily familiar and devastatingly foreign. Miranda, had an almost imperceptibly similar reaction. Shepard froze, his breathing shallow, staring at Miranda as she looked back at him over her right shoulder, a slight frown creasing her features.
Time dilated, until it was just the two of them left in the entire universe. Miranda was smart, she had to know, had to figure it out.
As soon as the moment started, it was broken by shouts, and the scraping of brickwork being moved against brick work as the attackers tried to force their way through the impromptu barrier created from broken walls and ceiling tiles.
"We have to get back to my sister."
And without another word, Miranda turned and began jogging down the corridor, trying to find an exit.
"Your sister is fine" Shepard called after her, jogging after her, and desperately praying that it was true. "I'm sure Vega has her and Houghton. Be we have gotta get you out of here." Miranda seemed to ignore him, this pesky grunt who was nothing more than her unknown and unnamed security detail provided by the remains of the military.
Shepard was not used to being ignored, not by Miranda Lawson. Questioned? Yes. Argued with? Of course. But flat out ignored, absolutely not.
"Miranda." He called out to her just as she found an exit at the end of the corridor, blasting the door open with a biotic push, and stepping out into the street beyond. Shepard groaned under his breath, and he hurried to catch up.
He darted out into the street with an abandon born of concern, only to be met with the butt of a shotgun to the face. His mask, taking the brunt of the impact cracked and as he rolled out of the way of further blows he managed to maneuver himself behind a convenient over turned garbage can.
He glanced around, and saw Miranda behind another similarly placed barricade of concrete and metal - clearly residue from the earlier explosion. She had a blue glow emanating from her hands, and a translucent blue curve hung in the air around her cover, indicating at the biotic barrier she was holding against the intermittent fire sent in their direction.
Preferring the support of a biotic barrier to his very thin, and not-very-bullet-proof garbage can, Shepard risked a quick look around his cover, before darting across the small distance between their two covers and slamming his back into the concrete wall Miranda was crouching behind.
Miranda winced as more bullets struck the barrier, and Shepard responded by firing blindly above the cover.
"Fuck." Shepard muttered under his breath, as he ran out of bullets in his loaded clip, blindly reaching for another only to find he had few left. He risked a quick look around the edge of the barrier, and narrowly avoided having his head removed by a shotgun blast that missed him by millimetres. He tried to connect his comms, but the damage to his mask or the static blast at the start of the breach had severed all communication links. "Fuck," he shouted again.
Shepard turned, raising himself on one knee, ready to start laying surprising fire. As he popped his head above cover, letting his personal barrier take a few of the shots, he tried to take aim, but the crack to his mask blurred his vision. Ripping it off with a frustrated growl, he started firing.
Similar to his experience in that hospital corridor that felt so long ago but was really only a few weeks, time slowed. His shots became more accurate, his reloads were faster, and when he finally ran out of bullets, his mad sprint with omni blade drawn was smoother and cleaner.
He panted, breathing heavily as the last of the assault force was frozen in place by a biotic stasis that Shepard could only assume had been courtesy of Miranda. He bent and picked up a pistol, finishing the last remaining survivors with single shots to the head.
He threw the pistol on the ground once he was finished, disgusted at his own brutality despite knowing it needed to be done.
As the passage of time returned to normal, he became acutely aware of three things. The first was that he was standing, in the middle of this bloody, body strewn alleyway, covered in grime and dust and looking throughly disheveled. The second was that somewhere along the way - he couldn't remember exactly when - but he had removed his mask. And thirdly, Miranda Lawson was standing directly to his right, giving him at once the warmest smile and the iciest stare he had ever been on the receiving end of.
Shepard was purposefully looking anywhere but at Miranda as he said "so, I suppose now isn't a good time to say hi?"
Miranda's face travelled through a series of emotions over the course of the next ten seconds. From frustration, to joy, to disbelief, to trying not laugh, until she finally settled on exasperation.
"Six months." She said in her cool, Australian accent, leaning back on one leg and resting her hand on her hip in a motion that was so definitely her. "Six months you've had and thats the best you could come up with?"
Shepard barked out a short laugh, turning the corner of his mouth up in a half humorous, half apologetic smile. He scratched the back of his head, still purposefully looking anywhere but at Miranda.
The silence between them seemed to crystallize, Shepard looking anywhere but at Miranda, Miranda looking only at Shepards profile.
It could have been hours, but really it was only a few seconds. Miranda caught the side of his face in her palm, softly cupping his cheek and forcing him to look at her. Shepards' eyes snapped to hers, and suddenly there was nowhere else for him to look.
"I'm glad they saved your eyes." She stroked her thumb over the faint bruise under his left eye - probably gained from being hit in the face with a shotgun, even with the protection of a face mask.
Shepard stared into Miranda's eyes, without either of them realizing it they were growing closer as the world around them seemed to dilate and just as the tension reached its crescendo, just as their lips were about to meet, something in the air warned Shepard. A vibration on the wind, a sixth sense, he couldn't explain it, he couldn't prepare for it, and just as he tried to push Miranda back and away from this unknown danger, there was a crack as something struck the side of his head, and the world went black.