Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or any of its characters. They are products of BioWare, EA and certainly not me. This fan fiction is for entertainment purposes; no profit or intrusion of copyright is intended.
Note: Thanks for the reviews and hits on my story. Keep them coming. I love to know how everyone thinks.
Rating: Just as a reminder, this story is rated M for language, violence and sexual situations.
Shepard stood outside the Blue Suns facility, watching as Zaeed walked casually inside, ignoring the pleas of the innocent civilian behind them. Jack, equally unmoved, continued on as well. Shepard glanced back at the man, helpless and pleading for help – for rescue. Immediate guilt overwhelmed him and he took a step towards the civilian. Pausing in his stride, he recalled an important message sent to him by an old friend and advisor. 'Take whatever steps you must to ensure that those battling at your side will fight with clear minds and glad hearts.' The Consort wise and absolutely right, Shepard swallowed his guilt and continued into the compound after Zaeed, leaving the innocents to die.
Heavy firepower greeted their entrance and the squad pressed cautiously but steadily forward. Distracted by his decision, Shepard glanced behind him during pauses in battle; his stomach knotted with regret. Jaw set, he turned his attention towards his squad, watching as they slid for cover to dodge in coming fire. Equipping his sniper rifle, he lifted the gun, pressing the stock into his shoulder and peered down the sight. He scanned the area and led a mercenary before firing. Headshot.
Soon, Zaeed appeared in his sights and Shepard sneered, placing the crosshairs on the back of the squad mate's head.
"Shepard, don't."
Frowning at the familiar voice, he lowered his gun and looked around, behind him then forward near the two other squad mates. His head high, a shot whizzed past his head.
"Bloody hell! Would you stay in cover!" Miranda exclaimed through his earpiece.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Shepard," Jack snapped. "We're in front of you. It wouldn't hurt if you worked a little, you know."
Shepard paused and brought the gun up again, peering down the sights.
"They can't hear me, Shepard," Miranda said simply. "I'm on a different frequency. Do not kill Zaeed. Get to the end, fulfill the contract. That's your mission."
"How would you know that?" he asked and fired, killing the last mercenary in the room.
Zaeed looked back at Shepard in confusion. "Know what? What the hell are you talkin' about, Shepard?"
"Nothing," Shepard snapped. "Check the area for ammo … upgrades. Regroup at the door ahead when clear.
When Zaeed and Jack separated and collected items, Miranda spoke again. "On your visor, there is a small switch. Push it forward two clicks and that is this frequency. Keep speaking to me under your current frequency and your squad, EDI, and Joker will hear you."
He secured the sniper rifle to his back and reached up, flicking the switch on the side of his visor. "Like that?"
"Yes, now you're on this frequency. It's encrypted. Medium range."
"How did you know I …"
"Were going to blow Zaeed's head off? I saw you. And before you ask, I installed a private communication and camera system into your visor when you gave it to Jacob for repairs. If you won't use me on the ground, then I'll be your handler. Now keep your mind on the mission."
"I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you that I ordered a new helmet and just haven't fitted it yet."
"A very bad time," she stated flatly.
He grinned. "That's what you get for keeping secrets. So where do we go from here?"
"You continue with your mission and I am your second set of eyes. I can also assist you with any system or navigation should you not wish to ask EDI."
He picked up a few thermal clips and slipped them into his ammo pouch. "Going to whisper sexy things to me?"
"Why would I do that? You're distracted enough as it is."
Jack approached Shepard, slapping three clips into his hand. "You losing your mind? If you're talking to us, we can't hear you."
Shepard reached up and flicked the switch on his visor. "It's nothing, just testing something. How's this? Better?"
"Yeah, that's better," Zaeed responded. "Now stop wastin' time. Vido's gettin' away."
Shepard lingered no longer, pressing hard and fast through the compound. He commanded and guided his squad as Miranda mostly observed. She offered warnings and points on occasion, pointing out environmental hazards and flanking enemies.
When flames erupted around Vido, Shepard looked away, unable to watch him burn alive. Miranda turned off the console.
On the ride back to the Normandy, Shepard sat apart from Jack and Zaeed in a darkened corner of the shuttle. Leaning forward, his elbows rested on his thighs, gloved fingers tapping his lips as he reflected over the most recent grounded mission. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, stretching his jaw and forcing the muscles to relax from his constant teeth grinding. Regret, guilt and fury coursed through him. Glancing to his right, he eyed the casual and relaxed Zaeed. The mercenary proved dangerous, unpredictable and rebellious. How could he trust the man to have his back and follow orders going forward?
When the shuttle docked on the Normandy, Zaeed and Jack left without sparing him a glance. Shepard lingered. After ten minutes, he blinked and pushed to his feet. His eyes burned, dried from his blank staring and deep simmering reflection. A little sore and furiously annoyed, he retired to his cabin and stripped out of his armor. He tossed the visor on the bed, the rest of the armor onto the floor before retreating to the shower to wash away the blood, soot, filth, and guilt.
Three of the four cleaned away, he left his shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. He paused at the top of the stairs and stared at the aquarium built into the wall. Shoulders slumped and he shook his head, muttering a few choice curses at the dead fish floating at the top. Ignoring the corpses for the moment, he walked to the bed and picked up the visor, checking the sides and front, searching for the cameras and modifications Miranda had made.
In her office, Miranda examined the newly shipped Kestrel helmet. Her fingers grazed the line and she looked carefully at the inside. Setting the helmet on her desk, she sat and searched the Cerberus databases for any detailed specs on the new armor. The door to her office opened; she continued her work, ignoring the entrance.
Shepard stepped into the office and let the door close behind him. Fisting his visor in his hands, he watched her a moment before clearing his throat. "I was looking for that." He pointed to the helmet on her desk.
"This armor was a prototype not long ago. How did you get it?"
"I've got my sources," he brushed off casually and grinned at her annoyed glance. "So …" he placed the visor on her desk. "It would seem to me … that you doubt my battle skills."
"Don't be absurd."
"Alright," he pressed. "Then if that's not the case, I can think of only one other reason you would do what you did to my visor."
She reflected on the words a long few seconds, eyes averted from him and focused on the display of her computer console.
"Come on," he coaxed. "Talk to me."
Glancing up at him, she released a nervous sigh and pushed to her feet, pacing behind her chair. "Look … this is a mistake. Nothing more." She eyed him with resistant uncertainty. Pressing her hands into the back of her chair, she leaned forward, eyes unwavering from him. "I don't know what this is. Stress, or just … blowing off steam or …"
"What are you so afraid of?" Shepard asked, and took a step to her, challenging. "That you might actually start caring for somebody?" He pressed the issue, unwilling to back away. He wanted her uncomfortable; it made her honest.
"This is no time for emotional entanglement!" She snapped and pushed off the chair though her voice trembled slightly. She walked to the bed. "You and I know more about the Collectors than anyone! We know how unlikely it is that we're coming back alive." Sighing, she sat at the foot of the bed, hands pressed into her thighs as she admitted. "What idiotic bunch of hormones thought that now was a great time for love?"
"Who said anything about love?" He joked with the tweak of a boyish grin. "I'm just trying to get you into bed."
She smiled at his jest, head ducked and shaking slightly. "You ass …"
He stepped closer, soft smile still in place despite the sobering impact of his words. "Come on, Miranda, you want this."
"Yeah," she whispered. "I do. So don't die." Her voice cracked. "You promise me, damn it."
He slowly shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. We could all be dead this time tomorrow. So if it's not worth it …"
When he trailed off, she pushed to her feet and stepped towards him. He slid a hand along her waist. Her eyes closed as she stepped into his embrace, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. "No, it is." She admitted reluctantly.
Shepard tightened his arms and turned his head slightly, inhaling the intoxicating scent lingering in her hair. He loosened his hold when she stepped back from the hug.
Still only a step away from him, she searched his eyes. Her expression unguarded; the usual icy walls crumbled and fallen, leaving her entirely exposed. "Give me some time. When I'm ready, I'll come by, ok?" Averting her eyes, she stepped to the side to pass him.
"No," he reached out, blocking her with a hand on her abdomen. "We've had a lot of time. And whenever you start to think, you start to rationalize and we're four steps back from where we are now. I'm not letting you think."
"Shepard," she sighed and stepped away from him, her professional demeanor returned. "There's a lot to do."
"Not this time," He stepped in front of her and slipped his hand around her waist, pulling her against him. He grinned confidently when she didn't resist him. "You need this. Just like I do."
She swallowed, pressing her hands into his chest with little force. Refusing to meet his eyes, she stared past his shoulder. "Hormones."
"I know." He leaned closer, a hand sliding along her hip then pressed into the small of her back.
Subconsciously, she lifted into him at the gentle cue. Ducking her head, she licked her lips. "Damn it," she muttered and suddenly cupped the back of his head and pulled him closer.
He growled victoriously, kissing her with hunger. His fingers coaxed her closer and his head tilted, tongue eagerly seeking hers. Succumbing to the pleasure, he lifted her.
To keep her balance, she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place. Fingers raked along his short hair, holding the back of his head and as his lips trailed down her throat, her head tilted back. Sighing in pleasure, her legs tightened, coaxing.
His knees hit the bed and he leaned over, one arm around her back as the other reached down to the bed to brace himself. Her legs slackened and she sighed contently, lips on his as she lay on the bed. He released her, planting his hands on the mattress at either side of her head as he kissed her feverishly. Finally, breathless, he pulled back. Panting, he held her eyes, his own lust hazed and he tugged his shirt from his pants.
Kiss swollen lips parted, she eased back on the bed, eyeing him with intense desire. Pulling off his shirt, he dropped it to the ground then crawled onto the bed. He leaned out, kissing her as he hovered over her. Balanced on his knees and a single hand, he ran his free hand along her thigh, fiddling with the fasteners holding her boot to her thigh. Grunting his frustration, he jerked at them as his kiss intensified.
She slowed his kiss, extending his searing passion as her hand slid over his shoulder and down his arm to touch his hand. Her fingers gripped his, stopping his frantic movement. With only her kiss and the touch of that hand, she calmed him, soothed his raging need. At his deep hum, she flicked her fingers at the fasteners of her boots, unhooking them before guiding his hand back to its task.
Grinning against her lips, he pushed the boot down and tugged it off. "Too many clasps."
"They're my favorite boots," she mutters.
"Your legs look great in 'em." He moaned and kissed her hotly again as he helped her remove the other boot as well.
Her hands slid along his chest while she slowed the kiss, easing back from him and further up the bed. Offering a teasing and seductive grin, she reached over towards the bed stand and tapped at the tiny console; the door locked.
Grinning wickedly, Shepard pounced up on the bed and lay at her side. He tugged at his belt as he kicked off his boots. Leaning over him, she kissed him hard, setting the pace. Without waiting for him, she straddled his hips, sitting on him and teasingly ground her hips. At his approving growl, she helped him with his belt and left it open.
With trembling hands, he fiddled with the fasteners and zipper of her suit. Assisting him immediately, she unbuttoned the side then pressed her hands into his chest to sit up. Easing back, she settled hard on his hips and held his eyes as she slowly unzipped the side of her suit and peeled it open.
His abdomen contracted, eyes locked on her slowly exposed flesh. Lips pressed to her chest and her back arched with a sigh. He jerked at the back of her suit, effectively locking her arms in place as he kissed, nibbled and nipped along the line of her collar. His teasing earned a growl of frustration from the back of her throat.
Shrugging out of the suit top, she pushed him hard back onto the bed. He matched her passion and hunger, fingers raking through her hair, pulling her down on him. Hands roamed and gripped.
As the pleasure mounted, his eyes rolled back and hips lifted up into her. Her suit discarded, his pants down to his knees, neither could wait. He gripped her waist, squeezing tightly as he matched her rhythm. His teeth clenched as his desire coiled deep inside, burning and twisting beyond his willing control. When his pleasure peaked, he sat up and kissed her hotly, a hand slipping between them to help her find the point of release.
She gasped into his lips at his touch, bucking against him and within seconds, she joined him in blissful completion. His fingers constant, he fell back, panting. He forced his eyes open, watching her ride the last of her desire and he grinned at the expression on her face. His free hand slid along her arm and around her back. Satiated, she leaned over him and pressed a soft and tender kiss to his mouth.
Sighing his content, his arms wound around her waist, holding her in place. Planting a foot into the mattress, he kept her with him through the kiss. Easing back, she pressed a hand into his chest and pushed back to look down at him. Smiling softly, she rolled off of him and stretched out onto the bed. With a low hum, she swung her feet over the bed and sat up, her back to him.
"Where you going?" he husked. Reaching out, he ran warm thick fingers down the delicate line of her back.
Turning her head, she peered back over her shoulder. Her lips kiss swollen and hair tousled, she met his gaze. "I ..." She trailed off, unsure of her answer.
"Don't go," he coaxed. "Not so fast. Stay." His gentle voice pierced the cool walls she attempted to erect. "Plus, that was far too short. I can do better. In about twenty minutes."
"Short, hmm?" Her head ducked slightly and he heard the smile in her voice. "First impressions are everything, you know."
"Eh … cut a man some slack. When you're dead for two years, it's a miracle I can get it up at all." He lifted up, balanced on his side with one hand. At her hesitation, he pressed. "Stay with me. We've got a few hours."
With a resigned sigh, she nodded and slipped back into the bed. He reached down for the sheets and pulled them up over them. She faced away from him; undeterred, he pressed against her from behind. Kissing the back of her neck, he unfastened her bra and peeled it from her body. Molding his hand around her waist, he pulled her back into his chest, spooning her. She tensed; he remained resolute, holding her close and unwilling to release her. As she calmed, he smiled, whispering to her. "Not so bad … is it?"
"Could be worse."
Chuckling softly, he kissed the back of her neck. Holding her and enjoying the comfort of her company, he lay behind her in silence for a few long minutes. As she relaxed in his arms, her breathing slowed but she didn't sleep. "Why did you stop me?" he whispered.
Her eyes opened at the question and she hesitated in her answer. When he said nothing else, she replied. "The act would have entirely swung the dynamic of this mission and the crew, no matter the reason."
"How could I just … I got a message from a friend. She said to me that I would be going down a darker path. And that I would have to do whatever it took to ensure the team behind me followed me with glad hearts. What good is that if innocents are dying everywhere I go?"
"This is war, Shepard. Collateral damage is, sadly, a result. Zaeed was chosen and hired because he is the best gun in the galaxy. He won't shoot you in the back and he'll do what he has to do when the time comes."
"You can't be sure."
"I can," she confirmed. "The Illusive Man paid him an exorbitant amount of money. Men like him follow the money. He knows he won't get his full payment until after we're back."
"What if you're wrong?"
Quiet a few seconds, she snuggled closer to him, settling into his embrace. "I have your back, Shepard. He'll be dead before he can compromise this mission."
An emotional warmth encompassed him at the statement and he teasingly brushed his lips over her ear. "Wouldn't it be easier just to drop him at the next space port?"
"Maybe … but we need every gun we can find willing to follow us. He proved himself on the Collector ship. That last mission was just his personal grudge. You let me call the shots when we went after Oriana. You let Jacob do the same. Now, Zaeed has."
He nodded slowly as the lay in silence again. A few minutes later, he admitted. "I heard their screams. The explosions. And I ignored them."
Turning in his arms, she eased back from him to better search his expression. Reaching up, she brushed cool fingertips over his cheek. "You did … exactly what you had to do. We all have burdens, Shepard. You just seem to carry twice as many as most."
"What about yours? I'm here. You know, if you want to talk."
"I … I know." She offered a tender smile. "Thank you. But I'm alright. Really."
He slid a hand along her waist then down over her hip and thigh. "I want to know more about you."
"There isn't much more to tell. You know about me already."
"I get it," he chuckled. "Another time. That's alright. I'm patient. I'll wait."
"Hmm," she arched a brow. "You'll be waiting a long time. I don't share."
"We'll see about that," he leaned closer to kiss her softly. His hand intertwined with hers and he pressed closer to her, easing her onto her back as his hand pinned hers to the bed. "My turn." Grinning broadly, he kissed her deeply.
Rousing from sleep, Shepard hummed shifting and stretching on the soft mattress. His arms tightened around the warm nude form of his bedmate and he pressed closer, nuzzling the back of her throat. Inhaling the scent from her hair, he pressed his lips along her hairline as a hand splayed on her stomach.
Slender cool fingers slipped along his arm and rested over the back of his hand before intertwining with his fingers. Holding his hand steady, she tilted her head to give him room to explore her throat.
"How long was I out?" he husked.
"Not long enough. You're exhausted." Came the professional reply.
Quiet nearly a minute, he reveled in the feel of her, the comforting warmth of waking with her in his arms. Smirking, he teased. "So… you stayed."
She shrugged casually. "Your hold is tight. When I tried to move, you started to wake up. So I stayed. You need your sleep."
"Ah," he nodded slowly and squirmed closer. "That it?"
With a smile, she shook her head but remained silent.
"That's what I thought," he chuckled. "Feels good huh? I think it does." He guided her hand to his thigh before abandoning her hand to stroke over her stomach again. "Did you sleep too?"
"A little." Pushing into his thigh, she sat up; his arm slackened. Holding the sheet to her chest, she raked a hand through her hair, wiggling her fingers to push out the tangles. "I need to make the adjustments to your new helmet."
"You mean put your cameras in," he corrected. "Spy on me … whisper things in my ear." At her annoyed glance, he grinned and flipped onto his back. Tucking one arm under his head, he reached out with the other, trailing his fingers down her spine. "I'll let you do it, but only if you promise to talk dirty to me."
She twisted at the waist, planting a hand on the bed to hold her steady as she faced him. "How could that possibly be of any assistance? Not that … I couldn't, but all that would do is distract you. It would inhibit the mission."
His grin broadened. "Extra incentive." He laughed at her unconvinced expression. "You know. 'It's cold in my bed, John, hurry back.'"
She arched a brow. "Is that what you think I sound like?"
Shaking his head, he sat up, leaning back to balance on his hands. "I don't know. Yes would probably get me kicked out of the bed."
"Probably," she stated, flatly, no emotion revealed in her voice or expression.
Unperturbed, Shepard pressed. "No would be lying." He laughed and leaned away from her, blocking any incoming swing with his arm.
Rolling her eyes, a smile tugged at her lips as she pushed to her feet, dropping the sheet to walk away from the bed, unashamed. Either unaware or uncaring of her effect, she gathered her clothes and boots scattered around the bed. When he fell quiet, she set the boots on the nearby table then folded the suit and laid it on the couch.
"Commander, we're in orbit of Lorek." Joker announced through the communications system.
"Thanks, Joker," Shepard answered.
"I have begun preliminary scans," EDI added. "Anomaly detected."
Sighing, Shepard stared at Miranda, eyeing her beautiful nude curves. "I'll be right there." When the communications system closed, he growled. "You make it hard to do my job." At her concerned expression, he muttered a curse. "That does not mean I want this to stop." Pushing out of the bed, he quickly closed the distance between them, sliding a warm palm along her cheek. "Come with me. Down to Lorek."
Eyeing him with festering doubt, she questioned, "Why now? Appeasing my ego?"
"Yeah," He smirked, teasingly. "But that's not all. I want to try out my new helmet. See how I like it. And I want you at my side down there. So will you come?"
She nodded. "I'll come. I need a few minutes to get ready."
"That's alright, so do I." He offered a boyish smile and searched for then pulled on his pants. "No sense moving the cameras and comm piece to the new helmet if I don't like it. Might as well try it out first, yeah?" Jumping into his pants, he ran his thumbs around the waist to pull it up then jerked his shirt on. Before leaving, he paused at her side, hand sliding up her waist then down again. "Promise me … no regrets."
She hesitated. "About what?"
"Me," he clarified intensely. "This. … Us."
Searching his eyes with an unreadable expression, she finally nodded. "No regrets."
He leaned down, kissing her with a slow and searing intensity. His stomach knotted at her teasing tongue and his arm bound around her waist. When finally breathless, he eased back and reluctantly released her. "Good. I'll see you in about ten minutes." When she smiled and nodded, he stole one more kiss, picked up his boots and left her office.
In the hanger, Shepard tugged on his helmet, twisting it on his head to adjust it. He flicked the fasteners at the bottom, attaching the helmet to his new matching armor suit. Garrus leaned casually against a cargo crate, arms crossed over his chest. "It works for you, Shepard. The less of your ugly mug, the better off you'll be with the ladies."
Shepard laughed, testing the open areas of the helm around his nose and mouth before snapping the eye and forehead guard into place, leaving only the bottom part of his nose, cheeks mouth and chin visible. "You're just jealous I make this look good. You still look like you were run over by the Mako."
Jacob tugged on the helmet. "It's attached, Commander. Can you see? How does it feel?"
"Feels good," Shepard answered. "It'll take some getting used to. Not used to having my head covered." He tilted his head left, right, back then forward as he tested his range of motion. "I like it. Range finder seems accurate. There's a heat sensor too … radar with red dots for heat signatures. Looks like it's good to about forty yards. Somebody just walked into the bay, right?"
Jacob glanced to the entrance of the bay and nodded as Miranda entered. "Yeah. Miranda just walked in."
"That'll come in handy," Garrus offered.
"Tell me about it," Shepard agreed then turned to the Operative. "What do you think?"
"Looks like it fits you well," Miranda commented as she slipped two earpieces on then pressed a button at the side. An orange visor extended over her eyes. She tugged on her dark colored armored gloves, matching the medium grade armor suit she wore only on rare occasions. "How's your peripheral vision?"
"One eighty at most," Shepard said. "But with the heat sensor radar, it doesn't matter. I can see three sixty with that."
"What about your scope?" Garrus questioned. "Don't know about you, but I like having my sniper rifle as close to my head as possible."
Drawing the weapon, Shepard spun on his heels and pointed the barrel to the top left corner of the hangar bay. He fiddled with it, changing its position and maneuvering his head until he saw properly through the scope. "It works. Awkward, but it works. I may be better with the assault rifle."
"You like that sniper though," Garrus commented then shrugged. "Well, a little practice on some mercs will do you good."
Once landed, Shepard, Garrus and Miranda infiltrated the Eclipse overrun facility. The team worked as one, a well oiled machine. Shepard and Miranda stayed close, taking cover near each other. Her biotics complimented his raw firepower and matched with Garrus, the Eclipse stood no chance. As the leader emerged, all took cover behind the crates. Without a question, Shepard pulled two extra ammo clips from his pouches and slid them across the floor to Miranda. One in the open, he quickly lifted his gun over his crate to lay down suppressive fire and gave her the opportunity to collect her clips.
When the base cleared, Shepard cautiously stood, eyes scanning the room. The squad split to gather ammo clips and resource. Entering the back of the base, Shepard paused just inside the door, his eyes focused to the right. Curious, Miranda and Garrus entered behind him. Both paused as well.
The lost Cerberus Operative lay dead and torn on a steel table, his body bearing the signs of intense 'interrogation.' Miranda approached the table.
"Did you know him?" Shepard asked.
"No," she replied simply. "From the looks of him though … well, I'm surprised he said nothing."
Her casual words grated him. Garrus sheathed his rifle. "Looks like Cerberus is on the receiving end of the same interrogation they like to use."
"This coming from the vigilante. And if he had the information you wanted on Sidonis … what would have you done?"
Garrus glared at Shepard. The Commander lifted his hands defensively. "Don't look at me. I didn't say a thing."
"I have my sources," Miranda explained. "Nothing stays secret for long. Information is as powerful a weapon as my biotics, or your rifle. Remember that."
Stepping up to the table, Shepard winced at the condition of the corpse. "How could he endure it?"
"Simple," Garrus answered. "Cerberus probably trains them for it."
Shocked, Shepard looked to Miranda. "Is that true? How do you train someone to endure torture?"
Without hesitation, she spoke. "You torture them." Motioning to the terminal. "Retrieve the information we are here for and forward it to the Illusive Man."
Blinking, he absorbed her admission and turned from her to approach the terminal. Fingers gliding dexterously over the console, he hesitated. Glancing back at Miranda then to Garrus a second, he returned his attention to the console. He uploaded the information directly to the Normandy. "EDI, I uploaded some files to your system. They're encrypted. I want to see what's in those files."
"Based on this level of encryption, full decryption will take some time. I will keep you posted, Commander." EDI said.
Frowning, Miranda stepped forward. "What are you doing? That information is delicate and highly classified. It cannot fall into the wrong hands."
"Do you know what's on it?"
"No," she shook her head. "But if he was tortured and never spoke, it's vitally important."
Shepard picked up a spare ammo clip. "I'm not sending that information anywhere until I know what's on it."
An hour after returning to the Normandy, Shepard stormed into Miranda's office, his expression set, jaw clenched. In one hand he held his new helmet, the other, a data pad. She glanced up at his entrance, unalarmed at the urgency and annoyance at his entry. He handed her the data pad. "So … Cerberus are the good guys?"
"I never said that," she answered and took the data pad skimming the texts.
"If that got out … Cerberus would be finished. And that's just initial decryption. EDI said it will take up to a year to fully decrypt the file."
Expression darkening, she read the data twice. "This can't be right."
"What? EDI's decryption? Or that Cerberus would do any of that to begin with."
"Cerberus practices in the extreme. I never claimed otherwise. But this can't be right. If these lies got out, we would be seriously hindered in how we can function. We'd be pushed out of Council space." Lifting her eyes, she searched his expression warily. "What are you going to do with this?"
"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "Truth is, we don't know if they're truth or lies. You told me that Operatives don't know about projects they're not a part of. Protection. You may not have been informed of these." Reaching out, he took the data pad. "For now, I'm just going to hold onto it. I like leverage. Never know when I might need it."
She stood, pacing nervously passed him. "So why even show it to me? What are you trying to prove? Do you have any idea what will happen if even a breath of that information got out? Lies. You know firsthand what happens when lies spread about you. Look at how they treated you after the Battle of the Citadel."
Expression darkening, the wounds still simmered.
"You see?" she motioned to him with a wave of the hand. "Why would you do that to us? We brought you back, Shepard. You're alive and here right now because of us."
"Yeah … I'm here now," he said and placed the helmet on the desk, slowly positioning it so it appeared to watch her. "Cerberus brought me back. But not because of me. You didn't want me, Miranda. You wanted the results I can produce."
"The same thing!"
"No, it's not." He interrupted her. "You knew my history. Every medical thing that ever happened to me and what day I was where, every choice I made. You had a psychological profile, I'm sure. But don't try to tell me it was me you wanted. You wanted to stop the Collectors. You wanted a successful mission. And as far as humans go? I'd all but guarantee that."
"You're right," she responded and faced him. "Do you want a bloody medal?" At his scowl, she continued. "The Illusive Man wanted you because you'd succeed. Or be the one who would get the closest. Don't think that you mean nothing though. You are Cerberus's most important investment. We are all expendable compared to you. Myself included."
"So we're all pawns of the Illusive Man's will. That doesn't sit well with me. And the fact that Alliance money is paying for some of this …" he clenched the data pad in his hand and tossed it carelessly to the chair. It missed, clanked against the metal and fell to the floor in a flicker of orange and gold. The data pad turned off. "Torturing children … torturing biotics. Creating biological weapons. Where does it end?"
She glanced to the data pad on the ground. "Get off the pedestal. If you think the Alliance wouldn't take a biological weapon for the upper hand, you're seriously mistaken. As for the Council, look at the Spectres. Anything goes. As much as we like to think as much, we do not live in a galaxy of law. It's an illusion spat at the masses to make them feel comforted. Why do you think they lie about the Reapers? Because they don't want mass panic. Why do they have the Spectres? The Salarian Special tasks group. Samara and Asari Justicars. Standard Law is a veil."
Clenching his teeth, he stood before her. "That doesn't mean we ignore the laws. Or the ethics of what we do."
"Which is why we stopped the experiments with the Rachni when we realized they were intelligent. And I was constantly cleaning up Rogue cells we shut down, or dispersing projects that failed to produce or stayed within our own code. Do you judge the Salarians so harshly for the Genophage? What about the Turians over the First Contact Wars? Maybe we should judge you, Shepard? How many innocents have died because of you or choices you've made? The Council …" she watched him and dared to press despite his darkening and dangerous expression. "How many other ships were destroyed during that battle? How many people were in that facility before you detonated a nuclear bomb?" She tilted her head. "How many would you sacrifice to win?"
At his deep growl, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Nothing is black and white." Pausing a long moment, she pressed. "Give me the data."
"No."
Shocked, she squared her shoulders, stepping to him, challenging. "Don't be stupid, Shepard. You have no idea what you're doing. That information …"
"Scared, Miss Lawson? Your ass on the line now, hmm? Feel the fire? Sucks doesn't it. Well get used to it. You find out that you're with an organization that does this kind of shit and you're still defending them?"
"Of course," she snapped. "This is my life we're talking about, Shepard. And if you think I'm just going to sit back and let you sabotage everything that I have, you're in for a rude awakening."
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Incredulous, he stepped to her and shook his head. "I'm not trying to destroy you. I'm trying to open your eyes before you get into this thing too deep."
"Too deep? Shepard, I've been with Cerberus ever since I ran away from my father. I am as entrenched in this organization as I can be. And I don't intend to leave it. We are doing what we have to do to ensure our survival as a species. Why are you so short sighted?"
"Why are you so blindly loyal?"
"It isn't blind loyalty! Cerberus has given me everything. They took me in. Protect my sister. My father gave huge sums of credits to Cerberus but they took me and kept me even after he pulled his backing."
"Of course they wanted you. You epitomize the genetic perfection of what humans are supposed to be. Why wouldn't they want you with them? Even if for nothing more as a propaganda piece."
She pointed a finger at his chest, glaring. "I am not a walking advertisement. It is not me that everyone is buzzing about. It's you. Recruitment has skyrocketed since the talks of your return. And that you're working with us. We're seen as the winning side. If anyone is a propaganda piece, it's you. Now that you're affiliated with us, that information you downloaded will hurt you more than any of us. Cerberus will be crippled, but we won't die. It will destroy you. Face it. You're the face of Cerberus now. Everyone knows what emblem is on your armor."
He grinned triumphantly. "That so? Because all I have to do is present it to the Alliance … and I'm sure you can guess what will happen to me then."
"I could," she responded calmly. "You get patted on the back, maybe a medal or two and then grounded at some fringe colony to keep you out of trouble. Too much red tape and political backlash follows you. You're not worth the risk to the Alliance.
Crossing his arms, he eyed her with controlled calm. "So it seems we are at an impasse. Where do we go from here?"
"You give me the data."
He laughed. She glared. Shaking his head, he passed her and crouched to pick up the discarded and broken data pad. "Good try, Sweetheart. But that's not going to happen." He pointed to his head. "See, I'm stupid. You need to try to explain it better to my little soldier's brain. Why would I give it to you again?"
Growling her frustration, she returned to her desk. "You're bloody impossible! Short sighted … ignorant … fool!"
"Aw, tell me how you really feel," he goaded and his grin broadened at her annoyance.
"I'll get it."
"We'll see." He picked up his helmet from her desk. "I'm keeping this helmet. Still want to put the cameras in? Still care, Miss Lawson?" he challenged her, offering the helmet.
Eyes narrowed, she hesitated as if to make her point. Finally, she grabbed the helmet from his hands and ignored his victorious smile. "I'll be in the armory." Without another word, she tucked the helmet under her arm and picked up his old visor as well as her combat earpieces and left him standing in the office.
In the armory, Shepard sat in one of the chairs, a foot up and resting on a stool as he watched Miranda work. Jacob retired to sleep half an hour after they entered. She ignored Shepard, leaning over with delicate tools as she manipulated and installed the various camera and communication components into the new helmet. Two hours passed and she altered her earpieces. He leaned forward, watching her curiously. "What are you doing now?"
She placed the ear pieces behind her ear and triggered the visor holograph to extend. "Making sure it works."
"On your visor?" He grinned at that. "So you can spy on me through your visor too? Well well, Miss Lawson. Seems you do care."
Smirking, she shook her head as she adjusted a setting on the right earpiece. "Ass …"
"Here's the deal," he offered. "If you get to see mine. I want to see yours."
"I believe you've seen mine already."
He hummed. "Mmm, that I have. How about a second viewing?"
"My hands are a little full."
He grinned. "Mine aren't." He reached out to her, fingers teasing the button at the top corner of her suit.
She shot him a warning glare and swatted at his hand. He simply chuckled and eased back though his fingers lingered along her thigh. She didn't push him away. "So, you can see one of my cameras in your visor right?" He asked and at her nod, he continued. "Put a camera in yours for me to see through my helmet. It's only fair. If you see what I see, I get to see what you see."
She paused, eyeing him with confusion. "Why?"
"Why do you think?"
Lowering her hands, she sighed. "Shepard, we were at each other's throats a couple hours ago."
"I'm over it," he responded. "Are you?"
"No," she answered honestly then looked up at him. "But I won't hold your idiocy against you."
"You know," he rested his arms on the table, leaning forward. "Some men would be pretty pissed when a woman and their XO is constantly calling them stupid."
She slowly shook her head, returning to her work. After a few comfortably silent minutes, she admitted. "I'm not over it. It is … unsettling. The information you found. You can't blame me, can you? My future may be held hostage by what you decide to do with that data."
"Hey," he said softly. "I'm not going to ruin you, Miranda. I didn't send the data to Cerberus or the Alliance. I kept it."
"Why won't you just … destroy it?"
"I can't do that." He moved closer to her, setting stool beside her. "We both need to know the truth. Then we will decide what to do with it."
"EDI said it will take over a year to decrypt it."
"I know," he answered. "So either it will get destroyed with us when we get stuck beyond the Omega 4 relay or if we manage to survive this crazy mission, we'll bring it back. And then see what happens. So how about we don't worry about it until after we kick some Collector ass."
Nodding her agreement, Miranda sobered and focused intensely on her work.
Shepard watched a few minutes. "You know … after a fight, it's usually customary to … celebrate the resolution."
"Is that how this works?" She commented flatly, squinting to alter a small part of the earpiece and activate the visor. Utilizing her omni-tool, she tapped and swiped her fingers to activate a camera option through the visor. "Sex after every fight? I suppose we'll be in bed every four hours with that kind of requirement."
He laughed at her, emotion swelling at the tiny quirk of her lip, the only indication of her teasing amusement. "I wouldn't object."
"We'd never get anything done." She turned her attention to the helmet.
"Oh something will get done," he commented with a teasing trail of his fingers along her waist. He chuckled when she jumped. His head tilted and he leaned closer to her.
"Perhaps. But nothing professionally." She twisted at the waist to face him and she rolled her eyes before leaning down to kiss his mouth softly. "Now … try on your helmet." With a sassy grin she pulled back and pushed the helmet onto his head.