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.

Miranda slowly walked around Liara's apartment on Illium, heels clicking rhythmically with her steady pace. Eyes searched and scanned the various decorations and Prothean artifacts before resting on a battered and broken piece of N7 armor. Propped carefully and reverently displayed behind a glass case, light shone upon the breastplate revealing the burned and missing pieces. She circled the display, standing behind the case. Squinting, she leaned closer, peering curiously at the underside of the armor.

Cleaned, buffed and carefully treated, the armor showed no signs of its previous conditions.

Flashback

Miranda left the asari, Liara, standing near the shuttle bay of the state-of-the-art Cerberus facility. She weaved through the corridors, side stepping personnel and crates on her route to the depth of the facility where Commander Shepard's body rested. A scientist jogged towards her and spun on his heel to match her stride for stride as he handed her a datapad. "Preliminary scans are inconclusive. We're running deeper scans now for a fuller understanding before we open it."

"What did you find exactly? I don't like inconclusive."

"Well, the Commander is severely degraded, as you are aware," the scientist explained, quickening his step as she turned a corner to keep up. "But how degraded, it is hard to tell. We don't want to open the coffin until we are exactly sure what we are working with. There can be no delay once his body hits the air or we risk rapid degeneration."

"Is the stasis tank ready?"

"Yes, Ma'am. The pressure will be stabilized within the hour. Oxygen, nitrogen and C – O – 2 levels are well under control. Once the scans are completed, we will wait on your 'Go' to open the coffin."

Miranda nodded. "Excellent. Once he is removed from the coffin, you will have to oversee the removal of non-biological materials. Keep as much of him in tact as possible. We cannot afford any waste."

"We will move swiftly." The scientist affirmed. "It may be … well quite difficult to remove any armor and clothing from his body depending on the degree of decomposition."

"There is no other option. Only his biological material can be inside the stasis tank to ensure proper synthesis with cybernetics and technology. Any other material risks contamination."

"I understand," he nodded in agreement. "Even the slightest bit of shirt or sock can change reconstructions."

"There are already enough variables without throwing more wrenches into this project. Failure is not an option, especially if that failure is facilitated by careless mistakes."

"Ma'am," he interrupted nervously. "What if there is not enough undamaged genetic material. His brain must be perfectly intact in order to keep his personality and memories in place. And this is all theoretical. There are so many variables."

"I am aware of the complications and delicacy of this operation," she stated with professional confidence. "This is my project. And all of our careers are on the line. I'm sure you understand the seriousness of that statement."

"I do, Ma'am. We all do. I just do not want to be too positive about our odds of success. Especially considering these readings." He motioned to the datapad with his hand.

"Then we will adjust." She stepped through the security sealed door into a small square preparation room. She turned from the scientist as she tied her hair back with a black tie, wrapping it to the top of her head. Tucking hair into a sterilized surgical cap, she pulled on a white lab coat, buttoned it and then picked up one of the surgical masks, tucking the elastic loops behind her ears. Affixing a pair of clear goggles over her eyes, she finally pulled on the sterilized operating gloves.

The scientist worked quickly, readying himself for the entry into the sterile operational chamber. He followed Miranda through the next set of doors. The heavy doors sealed shut; a VI announced, "Please stand still. Decontamination in progress." A fan of blue light scanned the room, beginning at the top and then slowly descended to the floor before the wave pivoted and swirled ninety degrees, repeating the process. Decontamination continued for thirty seconds and once clear, the doors opened to the operation room.

Stepping into the room, Miranda confidently strode towards the far wall covered in six monitors. "Report."

The scurrying scientists quickened their pace at her entry. One responded, her voice professional and focused. "Five minutes until the deep scans are completed. The stasis chamber is ready for transport."

Miranda crossed her arms, leaning into a hip as she stared at the monitors. "I want to see inside the coffin. See what we're working with. Bring it up."

"Yes, ma'am." The female scientist answered and tapped some buttons on the console. Three of the monitors flickered before a new image appeared on each. The first display: A top-side view of the contents within the coffin, showing the chest, shoulders and head of the subject inside. Blackened, dented and broken N7 armor on the chest and shoulders. No helmet. The flesh severely decomposed, eyes sunken and jaw slackened, open. Cheeks and face mostly gone, replaced instead with pieces of muscle and bone. One cheek crushed.

The second monitor: a side view near the hip showing only full armor. The third display: a bottom view from the bottom of the feet focusing up the body – more armor. "Damn it," Miranda paced, eyes on the monitors. "Looks like he's in armor; I was hoping for dress blues. This complicates things. No sign of a helmet though. What's that at his right hand?"

"Not sure, but we think it may be a gun. It appears he's gripping it."

"The hand isn't important; cut it off if you have to. It's the torso and head we need intact. No hasty decisions though. We need as much of him in that chamber as possible. Only sever if it is the last resort. How long will we have for the transfer?"

"The room is sterile, but we must make the full transfer within four hours to ensure no further decomposition occurs."

Wilson left the stasis chamber and approached Miranda. "We're all ready in the chamber. I suggest moving him from the coffin to the table and from the table removing all armor and materials before making the full transfer to the chamber."

"Agreed," Miranda turned towards the scientists and watched, waiting patiently as they continued their scans. When the time came to open the coffin, she stood at the head and assisted. The coffin opened, a wave of decomposed stench slammed into them and she closed her eyes, turning her head away as she held her breath, keeping the contents in her stomach. "Move fast. Now." She commanded and shook away the disgust as she looked back at the body. Her eyes scanned every inch, taking in the full armor – a frustrating obstacle.

"Lift him!" The lead female scientist called out. "He'll be easy to move in the full armor. Support his head. Get a grip. Ready?"

Miranda slipped her hands under neck and head of the body, fingers sinking slightly into the soft and decomposed flesh. The rancid stench infused into all who touched. "On my mark. Get his shoulders. Ready? One … Two … Lift!" She carefully stabilized the neck and head, holding steady. All moved at the same time, lifting the Commander's corpse out of the coffin and moving it to the metallic operating table.

Miranda and the scientists moved quickly, agile fingers carefully unfastening, knives cutting free the materials holding the armor in place. Straps released and fastens unhooked, Miranda carefully removed the pauldrons. The act met with little resistance as the piece settled over the full breastplate. Finally after endless careful minutes, a boot slipped off with a sickening suction pop.

The stench magnified at the release and Miranda bit back her gag reflex. The sour unmistakable smell of rotted flesh exploded. One scientist turned and rushed from the table, leaning over the sink as he quickly pulled up his mask and emptied the contents of his stomach. Miranda ignored the distinctive sound of retching, refusing to let her reflexes react.

Carefully, a glove followed with another sickening pop. Managing calm control, she fiddled with the ties, cutting the clasps and straps of his breastplate near the neck. Another boot popped off, breaking the foot bones, though still leaving the pieces attached by sporadically intact ligaments and musculature.

The team worked quickly and efficiently, stripping off the armor pieces and tossing the metallic armor aside. Miranda pointed to the pile of armor. "Get all of the tissues off of that. We never know what we'll need in the end."

Four technicians lifted and maneuvered the stripped armor pieces, using sharpened metallic instruments to scrape and slice any biological remnants from the inside of the plating. A mess of reddened and black bloodied debris amassed at the end of the table, decomposed and rotted flesh slowly stripped from the armor.

Miranda turned away from the sight, eyes closing a moment as she exhaled slowly through her nose, controlled and calming. Removing the greaves proved difficult as each piece required a delicate hand to cut and peel away. After half an hour, only the breast plate remained. His bones miraculously mostly intact on all appendages, she examined the corpse as the breastplate lifted off. She supported his head as others lifted his shoulders to remove the back of the breast piece and then carefully lay him down.

Scissors distributed, she stepped back as two of the scientists carefully cut away the fabric of his clothes, peeling it in layers from the corpse. Gelatin and liquid-like, flesh clung to each piece of fabric. She watched almost entranced at the sight before averting her eyes and focusing instead on his face and head. Nose and features deteriorated, rotting away – skin black, grey and green with decomposition.

With firm fingers, she pressed on the cheek, using thumb and forefinger at his brow and cheek. As she separated her digits to look into his eyes, blackness stared back – no eyes. The lead female scientist observed as well. "Preliminary deep tissue evaluation, the following organs will need to be grown: Eyes, kidney, thyroid, liver, heart and prostate. Get him into the stasis chamber. Prepare to begin skeletal stabilization. Mason, get me a CT scan of his brain, what's left of it. Klein, I want a full DNA map."

As the technicians gathered the stripped and cleaned gloves and boots, Miranda turned to them. "Keep it all." She approached and picked up one of the gloves, peering inside and stroking a finger along the inside of the palm area. "Reassemble the armor. I want a detailed mold of the inside of every piece." She tossed the glove onto the pile of armor and without another word walked towards the exit.

She pulled the tight latex gloves from her hand, nose scrunched in disgust at the discolored flesh clinging to the thin barrier. She tossed it into the medical waste container. Behind her, one technician whispered. "Why does she want a mold?"

Another softly answered. "Probably size. To see exactly how big he was. Most armor like this is tight to the skin, fitted specifically for him."

Miranda carefully pulled off the other glove as well and sighed in disgust at the lingering smell. It would take days to remove the smell from her body and a lifetime to forget the distinct pungent odor.

Closing her eyes, Miranda looked away from the displayed N7 armor in Liara's apartment, the sudden unmistakable smell returning from memory though no decay lingered in the room. She stepped away from the display case, walking towards the nearby window and stared up absently at the bullet hole piercing the glass. She glanced back over her shoulder as Shepard commented on his N7 armor but held back any response.

Her eyes sought his face but she quickly looked away, shaking the vivid vision of his decomposing features from her mind – a vision that sometimes haunted her, one she would never forget.

Miranda gripped the hilt of her pistol, aiming steady at the asari Spectre. Her eyes glanced momentarily to the side at Shepard and Liara before returning her focus to the target. Finger on the trigger, she waited – tensions simmered. She stepped forward as the asari retreated towards the balcony at her back. Boots cracked on shattered glass. She resisted the urge to fire as Shepard sprung towards the asari and both tumbled over the side of the balcony.

Miranda and Tali raced towards the balcony edge and peered over. Shepard fell the multiple stories to the floor at the center presidium of the scorched and partially destroyed building. Liara leapt over the balcony, her biotics flaring to help her descend safely. The asari tangled with Shepard blazed with biotics as well, slowing their fall. Miranda and Tali turned from the balcony and raced down the stairs.

Panting softly, Miranda followed Tali down the few flights of stairs, dodging corpses and discarded guns. She trailed behind the quarian, unable to keep up in her heeled boots. When Tali pressed against the edge of the door, Miranda quickly took the position opposite and peered into the main rotunda. Liara, after landing gracefully, ignored Shepard and instead chased the escaping asari.

Tali dropped to a knee near Shepard's head, reaching out with a tentative hand to touch his shoulder. Miranda aimed down the sights of her pistol, leading the asari, but she held her shot, muttering a curse. She holstered her weapon and knelt at Shepard's side, reaching out to touch his chest gently with her hand. Eyes examined and scanned his mouth and she tilted her head slightly to better see his eyes through the dark tinted plastic visor. Tali called his name; groaning, he stirred. Both squad members reacted instantly, supporting him as he struggled to move. Armored footfall warned of the approaching commandos and Tali struggled to rouse the woozy and breathless commander. Miranda drew her weapon and ducked into cover, ready to lay down any cover fire should her two teammates need.

The three fought with precision, ferocity and swiftness. Enemies fell; Shepard pushed his team hard, intent on reaching Liara and the escaping asari Spectre. Once outside, they watched their target drive away. When Liara slipped into the passenger side of the nearest car, Shepard turned to Tali and motioned to the car with his head. Tali quickly jumped into the backseat. Glancing to Miranda, he held her eyes a moment and at her nod of understanding, entered the driver's seat and pulled closed the door.

Chafed, but not burned by his choice, Miranda turned from the departing vehicle and scanned the surroundings. Civilians huddled near walls and balconies, injured or terrified. Wailing sirens in the distance announced the pending arrival of law enforcement and emergency services. She helped two women stand and pulled an injured man from the unstable building's entrance before taking her leave from the area minutes before police arrived.

Miranda returned to the Normandy and silently entered her office. Without delay, she settled into the chair at her desk and constructed her report on the current situation, including any observances regarding Liara and newly learned information regarding the Shadow Broker. Submitting the report, she leaned back in the chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of her chair. Seizing the opportunity, she moved her chair closer and quickly swiped her fingers over the console.

In his quarters, Shepard tossed the datapad in his hands onto the small table in front of the couch and paced away towards his desk to pick up his old N7 helmet. Lost in memory, his focus blurred as fresh and distant past thoughts flooded his mind. Closing his eyes, he broke the chain and set the helmet down. Glancing to his side, he watched Liara work diligently, scanning and searching various datapads. "We'll get him back," he stated intensely. "I promise."

"You cannot make that promise, Shepard," Liara responded simply, voice edged with coolness. "We have no idea what we are walking into much less what his condition would be. By the goddess, it's been two years." Her fingers stilled on the datapad and she leaned back in reflection before finally looking up at Shepard. "It would be more merciful if he was dead."

"Maybe," he returned to the couch and sat beside the asari. "What happened?"

"Cerberus has reports. Ask the perfect Miss. Lawson."

Smirking at the dismissive shot, he leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs. "I'm asking you. Plus, she didn't tell me much. And if there are reports on it, I can't access them."

After a moment of silence, Liara set the datapad onto the table and looked at Shepard, mimicking his position. "Cerberus approached me to recover your body and Feron helped me. Details aren't really important. What's important is that the Shadow Broker has him and after he helped me, I cannot leave him there. He doesn't deserve that fate."

"No, he doesn't. You sound like you were close."

"Friends, nothing more." Liara clarified. "He sacrificed himself so that I could get away. With you. What would you do if you knew Kaiden wasn't dead, but instead imprisoned?"

"I'd go after him," he answered without hesitation. "You know that." At her silent nod, he continued. "Why would you send my body to Cerberus? After everything we saw?"

"Why are you working for them now after everything we saw? I must admit, I was a little shocked when I saw the emblem on your armor. Of course, that was after I got over the shock of seeing you walking into my office. Granted, I had heard the rumors but it is quite different to see it."

"It was good to see you too."

She offered a small smile at his words and looked forward to watch the brightly lit aquarium. "But to answer your question, why would I give you to Cerberus? The alternative was to let the collectors have you. I couldn't let that happen." She sighed. "I couldn't let you go, Shepard. After everything you had done for me, for the galaxy and when Cerberus approached me with this insane idea, I thought 'what if they could.' What if they could bring you back? After you were gone, everything fell apart. The Reapers were still coming and your death meant nothing. Nothing changed."

"So you thought that if Cerberus brought me back, then I could pick up where I left off."

"It wasn't all business," Liara defended. "We share something … special. You said it, remember?"

"I do. I still mean it. How could we not?" he shrugged casually. "You've been inside my head a couple of times. That's an intimacy most people can't share."

Liara turned to face him, observing silently a few seconds. "I can't believe they actually did it. They brought you back."

"Yeah, they did," he responded, softly. "They did a pretty good job too. Thank you, Liara. For not giving up on me. For giving me this chance. You sacrificed a lot; so did Feron. It's why we're going to get him back."

"Commander Shepard," EDI interrupted. "Someone is attempting to hack into your personal information storage terminal."

He frowned and stood. "What? Who?" Leaving Liara's side, he walked around the table and up the few stairs towards his private terminal.

"They are blocking my attempts to back hack them, rerouting from their point of origin to random ports throughout the ship. I am, however, successfully keeping them from your data."

"Is it originating from the Normandy?" he asked, sitting in his chair and opening his private terminal. "Can you show me what they're doing?"

"One moment, Commander." EDI stated; Shepard glanced behind him as Liara peered over his shoulder at the terminal.

Liara rested a hand on the desk, the other on the back of Shepard's chair. "Who would try to hack your terminal on board this ship? I thought your crew was loyal to you."

"They are." His eyes narrowed at the terminal.

"What is on this terminal that they would want?"

"Just personal emails," he responded with a sigh. "Nothing really of importance except …"he trailed off.

"Commander, the point of origin for the hacking attempt is Operative Lawson's office." EDI stated.

"You were installed by Cerberus. Why would you stop a Cerberus operative from accessing any information?" Liara inquired, curiously.

"It is in my programming to deflect and prevent all hacking attempts penetrating encrypted channels. The only information currently stored on encrypted channels is the recently acquired data rescued from a compromised Cerberus facility. My current decryption of all files is paused."

Shepard leaned back in the chair, absently brushing his fingers over his lips in thought as he stared at the screen of his terminal. After a moment of silence, he spoke, flatly. "EDI, let her through."

Curious to his motives, Liara glanced inquisitively towards the commander but bit back any question.

"If you intend to entrap her, I will need a moment to design a program to keep her locked in channels."

"I don't intend to entrap her," Shepard answered. "Let her in. I want to see what she does. Show it to me." His screen flickered before displaying a constant streaming wall of text. The commander scanned the lines as they scrolled and muttered. "I'm a soldier. Do you know what any of it means?"

"Give yourself more credit," Liara scolded. "You've done more hacking than I have." She leaned forward, eyes quickly darting back and forth as she skimmed and read the scrolling text. "It appears your A.I. has still put up firewalls but it is not replacing them or trying to divert."

Growling his frustration, fist clenched in anger at the betrayal, he slammed his fist onto the desk. "EDI, show me Miranda's office." He ground his teeth, muscles taut on the back of his neck as the scrolling text minimized replaced with the display from one of the cameras in Miranda's office.

Liara frowned. "The room is empty, Shepard."

Frustration and anger switched to confusion. "EDI, where is Miranda Lawson?"

"Operative Lawson is in the hangar."

He cursed and burst to his feet. "EDI, stop them. Don't let them get any further." Shepard raced from his quarters with Liara following quickly on his heels. Within minutes he burst into Miranda's office; the room was empty.

Liara slipped into the chair, fingers moving agilely over the console in Lawson's chamber as she cleared the screen. "It's automated. I can't control it from this terminal." She swiped her fingers over the console again, attempting to close out the program. "It's a remote access program."

"EDI, what can you tell me about this program?" Shepard asked.

"All terminals on board Cerberus vessels have client programs installed to allow remote access and control of the terminal at any time. Operative terminals are also installed with hacking programs. It appears the remote access for this terminal has been initiated to run the program."

"Can you shut it down?" Shepard inquired. "Stop the remote access."

"Yes, Commander, I can."

"Do it," Shepard commanded and watched the terminal. When nothing happened, he questioned. "EDI?" At the silence, he straightened. "EDI? Stop the remote access. It is hacking your system; we cannot trust its source and as commanding officer of this ship, I must protect the Normandy and ensure all her resources remain intact. That means all crew personnel files, any information we collect and your programming. We don't know who is trying to hack our systems, even though they are using Cerberus protocols."

"You are right, Commander," EDI agreed. "It is best to ere on the side of caution." Within five seconds, the hacking program terminated.

Relieved, Shepard stepped away from Miranda's desk. "Thank you, EDI. The Normandy is an advanced warship with prototype upgrades and an integrated Artificial Intelligence. We cannot risk any security breaches, even from within Cerberus. Block any remote access attempts to our systems unless I approve it, personally. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Commander."

Miranda sat atop one of the many crates in the hangar, legs dangling and swaying with natural movement over the side. A datapad in hand, she tapped her fingers quickly over the keys. Connecting to the extranet, she hesitated only a moment before opening her email client.

Miri,

I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said, and I know that you know that. And the conversation shouldn't have ended like it did. We're just so much alike – we have to be. We're twins. But it's not fair. I understand that you wanted to protect me and you thought by staying invisible, it would be best. You were wrong. Everything that I thought about myself was a lie. Where I came from or who I am? I have no idea now. I suppose this is what orphans feel like. A piece of identity is stripped away leaving a void, an endless void that cannot be filled because there are too many questions, too many holes.

Are you really my sister? It's only with blind trust that I believe you. I have so many questions and no answers. Where are you? I know you are in danger and maybe it's selfish of me to ask for more of your time. I liked when we chatted, even if it's just through a chat client. Hey, it's better than nothing, don't you think? I'm sure you're keeping tabs on me, probably my every move. What movie did I see last weekend?

Please, sign in again sometime. There's so much I want to ask you, so much I want to know.

Ori

Lowering the datapad, Miranda stared blankly across the bay in silent reflection. Decision made, she returned her attention to the datapad and logged into an external chat client. She waited.

OL: Miri! You signed in!

ML: I got your email. We've been busy lately, but I haven't forgotten.

OL: I'm so sorry.

ML: Don't be sorry. You're right. I don't mean to spy on you. It's not even spying, not really.

OL: Then what is it?

ML: I have enemies and I just want to make sure you're safe. Especially after everything that happened.

OL: What kind of enemies?

ML: Don't worry. I can protect you, even from here.

OL: Sorry, Miri, but that's not going to cut it. I'm just as smart as you, remember. Just tell me so I know what to look out for. I can tell you if I notice anything suspicious.

ML: It's complicated. I know what to look for.

OL: You're doing it again! If you were me, how would you feel?

ML: It's not the same thing. We may be the same genetically but the environment in which we were raised was entirely different.

OL: That's a cop out and you know it.

ML: Fine, never make it look like you are entirely aware of everything around you. It means anyone following or watching you is more likely to make it look as if they are. When you notice them watching you, never call them out on it. Tell me immediately, every detail.

OL: There, was that so hard?

ML: Yes. I don't want you in danger. You're finally safe, for the moment. I would like it to stay that way.

OL: Then I think I need to know what is going on. Who am I?

pause

OL: Miranda?

ML: It's a long story.

OL: I have time.

ML: But I don't. I'm sorry, Ori. We are very busy right now.

OL: Five minutes. Just give me the abridged version then.

ML: Alright. Our father is Henry Lawson. He's a very dangerous man and you have to stay away from him. No matter what people say of his wealth and influence.

OL: He wanted me kidnapped?

ML: He would call it rescued. From me. He was obsessed with creating a legacy, a dynasty. So much so that he genetically engineered our DNA in a lab. He grew us to be perfect. I was first and when I proved to be too difficult to control, when I wanted away from him, I ran away. Cerberus offered me protection. Little did I know, he started creating you. Genetically, we are identical.

OL: …

ML: I know what this sounds like. When I heard he was trying to create another perfect specimen, I couldn't let him do to you what he had done to me and I rescued you when you were still a baby. I got you away from him and I have been protecting you ever since.

OL: This is all a little bit outrageous, don't you think?

ML: I know it seems like a lot to take in. If you doubt me, run a DNA test on yourself. The results will speak for themselves.

OL: Maybe I'll do that.

ML: You probably have a lot of questions but I don't have much time. There is a lot to do and we are getting closer to our destination.

OL: Where are you?

ML: You know I can't tell you that.

OL: Figure I'd still give it a shot. I still have so many questions. How did you grow up? What did Father do to you that you wanted to rescue me? How did you pick my parents to be my parents?

ML: When this is all over and I come back, I will find you and we can talk all you want.

OL: Do you promise?

ML: I can't do that.

OL: You could just lie, you know. Might make it easier for me to sleep at night.

ML: You've been lied to enough. Where I'm going is very dangerous. But if we managed to do this and come back, I promise that I will come see you.

OL: I'll hold you to that. Bye, Miri.

ML: Goodbye, Ori.

Miranda's eyes lingered on the chat window on the datapad before finally closing the client. Distant in thought, she stared blankly at the cleared datapad and sighed. Gathering her emotions, she closed her eyes as she mentally sorted through and filed each feeling, each thought.

"Miranda?"

Cooling blue aura pulsed around her in her meditation, cycling in spirals from her head to waist then circling down her legs and up again. She regained her focus at the call of her name and though the aura remained intense, her head turned slightly to look around the hangar from her position. Shepard stood across the bay, brow narrowed as he skimmed the surrounding crates. Uncrossing her legs, she picked up the datapad and leapt to the floor, her biotics flared to cushion her landing.

Heeled boots clicked against the metal grating of the hangar bay's floor and Shepard turned at the sound. He crossed the bay and paused when she stepped into view, aura present but fading. "What are you doing here?" He inquired, curiously.

She presented the datapad. "Some personal correspondence. Change of scenery. Do you need something, Commander? I thought you would be with T'Soni."

"I was but something came up. I have a few questions for you actually. About the terminals on board the ship. Are they all the same?"

"What do you mean the same?"

"Are they dummy terminals with equal access to a single server or are they individual systems that have a program to link with other systems?"

Skeptically, she responded. "There are a variety of terminals on the ship. Some are simply dummy terminals with only one or two functions. Others are fully functional terminals. Why?"

"What can you do with that datapad? Can you remote access terminals?"

"Of course. Not every terminal, only the ones linked to it. Like my own." She stepped back from him, leaning into her hip as she searched his expression. "Why? What happened?"

"Did you remote access your terminal?"

"No," she answered and crossed her arms. "I was talking to Oriana. Now will you just accuse me of whatever it is you're thinking so I can defend myself properly."

"I'm not accusing you," he closed his eyes and pressed the fingertips of one hand into his brow. "I'm just trying to figure out what's going on." Dropping his hand, he met her steely gaze. "EDI detected someone trying to hack into my personal terminal and we saw it was coming from your office. Your terminal. But you weren't there. It looked like someone was remote accessing your terminal. Who would do that?"

"I don't know," she frowned, eyes narrowed in thought. "Was it from somewhere else on this ship or external?"

"External, we think. I don't know. This isn't my expertise. I break terminals, not dissect them."

"Commander," Joker announced over the intercom. "We'll be in orbit in about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, Joker," Shepard answered then stepped closer to Miranda, slipping a hand along her waist. "Figure this out. If somebody has the balls to use your terminal when you're only a deck away, who knows what else they've been doing."

"I'll find them." Tentatively, she reached up, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Be careful. The shadow broker isn't known for welcoming visitors."

He nodded in agreement, squeezed her waist and left the hangar. Determined and with restrained anger, Miranda returned to her office.

Shepard sat on his bed watching the closed door of his quarters minutes after Liara left. They defeated the Shadow Broker and rescued Feron. But Liara could not let the opportunity slip away and instead chose to take the Broker's place in the same position. He hoped she would choose to join him in battle against the Collectors but he could not begrudge her desire to become the new Shadow Broker. A powerful position with military, economic and informational strengths offered a strong ally not only against the collectors but moving forward against the Reapers.

Before leaving, Liara broached the topic of his relationship with Miranda. He knew Liara cared for him deeply and at another time or under other circumstances he felt similar emotions for her. She never showed any signs of betrayal or hurt but he knew how deeply she cared for him and her slight dig at Miranda's perfection solidified his beliefs. But for all her perfection and glaring faults, Shepard cared for the Cerberus operative, loved her – which made Liara's words affirming Miranda's personality change all the more jarring. How had she changed? What happened?

Cold, calculating, professional, intelligent and determined, Miranda Lawson exuded strength and independence. In reflection, Miranda warmed to him in private – smiling, affectionate gestures, a kiss or touch, even the occasional laugh. Yet she easily switched from a warm and even sensitive woman to a hardened and focused, driven operative. Despite the polarized personality, she forever existed within a grey medium, difficult to read and even harder to predict.

The door to his cabin opened. "Shepard." Miranda strode inside, confident and head high, eyes determined and focused. "Good to see you made it. T'Soni is going back?"

"Yeah," he pushed up to his feet, slowly and bit back the wince at his aching muscles.

"I'm surprised," she shrugged. "I thought she would follow you to hell."

"I was hoping so too," he answered. "It's better this way." He dismissed and walked to his desk, picking up the N7 helmet. "Liara went everywhere with me. I took her on every fight, every planet. It was Tali, Liara and myself. All the time. I just hoped that maybe we could have that again. But two years is a long time, apparently," he finished with a disgusted edge. "So everyone keeps telling me."

"Because it is," she responded simply and leaned back into her hip. "Is that what you really want then? Just you and the quarian with T'Soni?"

"I don't know, it would have been nice don't you think?" He growled and threw the helmet to the bed. It bounced off the mattress and tumbled to the floor with a clanking crash. "It would just be nice if someone from my last squad would just trust me. After everything we went through against Saren and Sovereign, it would just be nice to know I have them at my back."

"You have more trust than you think."

He sighed and pressed his hands into the desk. Ducking his head, shoulders curled he closed his eyes and shifted his feet back for balance. "I have Garrus, and Tali is here for me – so she's told me in those words. She hates you though and everything Cerberus stands for."

"I don't need her to like me. I just need her to kill Collectors, follow orders and not shoot me in the back."

Shepard glanced back over his shoulder. "Did you find out anything? What happened with your terminal?"

"I think so," she said and turned from him to step towards the aquarium, arching a brow at the two fish floating belly side up at the top. "I made some inquiries a few days ago, poked around. Did a little research. I covered my tracks, so I thought." She faced him. "I did a little digging about that information you collected. The data we rescued; the data that would incriminate Cerberus and you wouldn't destroy it. I wanted to see what I could find. If what we saw was possibly true. I suppose my inquiries alerted the Illusive Man. Whether it was him or someone acting with his order, I don't know. But they were after that data."

"So you hacked Cerberus and the Illusive Man caught onto you."

"I wouldn't quite explain it that way. But something like that."

"What exactly did you search for?"

"The various projects from that encrypted data," she explained. "The few where we saw project names. Personnel. I just did a little digging. I suppose he caught onto me after I divulged that information to Jacob after his father, probably had my terminal tracked." She glared. "I should have known. Been more careful."

"He found out what you were looking for then. And figured we had that data, wanted it gone." He approached her, standing beside her as he gazed at her profile, admiring before glancing up at the aquarium. He muttered a curse, huffing beneath his breath as he waved a hand over the sensor. A metallic plate emerged from the ceiling and skimmed over the top of the water, pulling the dead fish towards the right end and into an awaiting disposal unit.

"You should probably stop buying fish." She commented, sarcastically and offered an infuriating smirk as she tapped the glass lightly. "You can't seem to keep them alive more than a week."

"Sorry," he growled. "I get a little distracted. You know, saving the galaxy and trying not to get my head blown off every time I step off the ship. And the hamster is doing fine."

Her neck twisted as she glanced back over her shoulder at the glass tank behind his desk and the scurrying small rodent inside. "Don't you find the scurrying, scratching and gnawing excessively annoying?"

"Not at all. Why? Do you?"

"Despite what you may have been told, I do have some patience." She stated simply and stepped around him towards the bedstand and picked up the discarded helmet. "This means a lot to you."

"Just a lot of memories. They're still fresh." He leaned casually against the aquarium, arms crossed over his chest. "I was surprised to see the breastplate at Liara's. I wonder if she has the rest of it."

"Why?" Curiously, she peered over her shoulder. "Do you want it?"

Slowly closing the distance between them, he took the helmet and stared down at it with distant eyes. "No. Wouldn't do me much good." He turned from her to walk towards his desk and set the helmet carefully on the back corner. "Nostalgia, I guess. It's not really fitting anymore. I'm not that man."

"Of course, you're not," she answered and followed him. "Why would you be?"

"Because you don't just change who you are in a matter of months, I don't care what has happened to you." He snapped and paced away from her. Sinking onto the foot of his bed, he closed his eyes and ducked his head into his hands. Exhaling a slow breath, he muttered. "I'm sorry. I just don't feel myself lately."

"You've been under a lot of pressure. We all have," she responded simply and sunk into her hip. "I … I am curious if your offer still stands? From a few days ago. We have just been so busy, we haven't really had much time lately."

The corner of his lips ticked with the hint of a smile and he lifted his head from his hands to glance up at her, eyes raking the lines of her body. "Oh, I'm definitely interested."

"Glad to hear it," she smirked. "I'll be by next time things are quiet."

"You could just stay now," he offered and sat up, pinching his shoulders back to stretch. "We've got a little bit of time before our next destination."

"Not that much," she pushed off her back foot and took a couple of steps towards the bed. Reaching out, she trailed cool and gentle fingertips along the side of his head, tracing the hair behind his ear. "I never asked if you were hurt from the fall. The few stories?"

"Worried?"

"Concerned," she corrected and tilted her head to better examine his expression. "You're exhausted, Shepard. Get some sleep."

"Stay," he implored, his eyes intense at the simple statement.

Edged, she stepped back, leaning into the hip in a display of control as her eyes quickly glanced to the door. "There's a lot to do, Shepard. Reports and seeing to the upgrades. Plus we need more element zero."

"There will always be something to do," he pushed to his feet and closed the distance between them, slowing slipping his hand along her waist to rest on her hip. Shifting his weight, he leaned down and kissed her softly, slowly. Sighing against her mouth, his hand tightened. Miranda closed her eyes, pursing her lips to his and rested her hand on his chest through the tender, chilling kiss.

She pressed gently on his chest and he broke the kiss yet stayed within inches of her mouth. Swallowing her resolve, she pressed harder and when he stepped back she ducked her head to look at the floor. Twisting slightly at the waist, she ran her fingers of the thigh fasteners of her boots. At his boyish smile, she smirked. "Making it easier for you."

"I appreciate it," he responded deeply and tugged his shirt from his pants then lifted the fabric over his head. Turning from her, he tossed the shirt to the far corner of the room. Pressing his toe into the heel of his opposite foot, he pried off the boot then squatted slightly, lifting his leg to tug it off. Dropping both boots to the floor, he crawled onto the bed, stretched out onto his side and watched her.

She focused on her task, working the fasteners of first one boot and then the other, never lifting her gaze to watch him. She walked to the opposite side of the bed and sat, tugging the first boot off and sighed in relief. She wiggled her toes at the freedom and gripped the free foot resting on her thigh, rubbing it to ease the ache. Pulling off the other boot, she set it carefully beside the first then flexed that foot and wiggled the toes as well before twisting the ankle to look at the heel and the reddened irritation – the first sign of a blister.

She jumped when firm confident fingers tickled her lower back, teasing up the spine then down again. Her head turned towards the door and she looked at the aquarium and the unlocked door of the cabin before turning her head a little further, her eyes glancing back towards him.

Shepard lifted up onto his hand and leaned towards her, hooking his head near her shoulder to kiss her. Emotion, hunger and affection infused with his kiss as his free hand slipped over her thigh and settled on her stomach. "Come here," he whispered and pressed on her abdomen, gently coaxing her to turn into him as he kissed her again.

She hummed against his mouth and reached up to cup his cheek with her palm. Twisting fully at the waist, she lifted up onto her knees before stretching out beside him on the bed.