13 Days ASR

Just over an hour passed before Liara and Miranda returned. Shepard heard them long before they reached her door. Their discussion centered around Liara's access to the communications array. Apparently, the different departments were assigned broadcast windows for outgoing communications, and users needed to adhere to strict protocols most of which Liara would not be subjected to. As long as she made no mention of Shepard's resurrection or their location, she was free to conduct her business.

"Huh." Shepard shook her head. Liara had signed a nondisclosure agreement with the devil in exchange for what? Why had Miranda brought the asari there in the first place? She'd been peripheral to Shepard's life, a figure tucked away in a back lab space until Benezia died. Why not Anderson, if they wanted someone to help her make connections?

Those connections are already intact, Janey. It's the newer ones you need. Shouldn't you be happy to see someone who knows about your life right before you died?

Her face twisted into a confused grimace that puckered the skin across her brow and around her eyes. She should be ecstatic to see Liara. Despite sticking to her hard line of no contact, Miranda had finally provided a link to Shepard's life, a glimmer of hope that at the end of her tenure as Frankenstein's monster, she'd be able to return to her life. So why then did Liara's presence just stir up dread and guilt? She pressed a flat palm over her heart as if the pressure could ease the ache.

The door opened and she dropped the hand. Shepard didn't need to look up to tell that Miranda entered first and alone. She waited for the door to close before she asked, "Why did you bring Liara here?" Remaining on her back, she stared straight up at the ceiling and waited, forcing the flesh of her face back into flat, impassive planes. The operative's clipped, efficient heel strokes circled around to the side of the bed and stopped.

"Dr. T'Soni has melded with your mind twice that we know of. We brought her here to aid in memory recovery and to ensure that we brought you back intact." The chair next to the bed squeaked across the floor, then the leather let out a whispered exhale as Miranda sat down. "I admit, I thought you'd be pleased to see someone from just before your death."

In a single movement, Shepard swung her legs off the bed and sat up, her stare fixed on the floor. "There's something … ." She shook her head and braced the heels of her hands on the edge of the mattress, lining them up perfectly so the ridge cut along her lifeline. The scowl tried to creep back, but she forced it back. Keeping her voice even, she said, "I barely knew Liara, but my problem isn't with her."

Miranda shifted in the chair and crossed her legs at the knee, one arm draped elegantly over the top. How did she manage to make every movement seem like a dance? Next to the operative, Shepard felt like a newborn foal, all clumsy awkwardness and limbs that refused to submit to her authority.

"Then what's your issue?" the operative asked, her face a carefully schooled, professional mask that gave away nothing.

Shoving herself up onto her feet, Shepard wobbled for a moment, then set up a halting pacing pattern, limping down the bed as far as she could, supporting herself hand over hand down the railing. "I don't know. I just … I need to remember. Having bits and pieces appear here and there … it's making me crazy."

"Sit down," Miranda said. "You're mentally exhausted. Compounding it with physical exhaustion won't improve anything."

Shepard just paced to the other end of the bed, struggling to hold her composure, keep everything calm and controlled. Being emotional gave far too much of her power away. "I need to keep moving, to drive myself to heal so I can get the hell out of here. You don't heal lying around …" she slowed, the words stuttering to a halt as they slid over her tongue, their taste familiar. Her frown slammed back into place, finally victorious as a memory drifted up through the fog.

Large, strong hands looped under her arms, hauling her up out of a stretch and set her on her feet. "Are you sure you should even be out of bed yet?" a familiar voice asked, amusement threading through the rumble of treacle and smoke. Sweet shivers danced along her every nerve ending.

She pushed aside the reaction and twisted at the waist, stretching out her sides. She hurt like hell just about everywhere. "Yep. Don't heal lying around a medbay." She twisted the other way without looking at him. Look at him, dammit! "So, our prothean expert is on Therum?"

"... a medbay." Stumbling to a halt, she clung to the railing, her knees shaking.

Miranda activated her omnitool. "Shepard, sit down." She tapped the interface, then glanced up. "Or is standing there shaking helping in some way I can't see?" A cocked one eyebrow added weight to the question before she turned back to her work. Shaking her head, she pressed a control. "You'll remember everything in time. As I've explained, those neurons just need to be replaced and then triggered. The data is all there."

Shepard turned and sank onto the mattress, too exhausted to even look up, flat and drained. "I know I sound like a six year old getting homesick on her first sleepover, but I want to go the fuck home." She braced herself again, and as she spoke, the words whispered out, slow and slurred, drifting from a distance. "I just want to go home before I miss anything else."

The door opened, and Liara peeked through, an earnest blue face and an elongated shadow leaning over the threshold. "May I come in?" she asked, the delicate marking above her eyes rising into a brow that refused to furrow … Shepard sort of hated that about her. "Sorry. I heard what you were talking about and couldn't help but think I might be some help." She shrugged, an almost comical pop of her slender shoulders.

Shepard nodded her head toward Miranda's chair. "Come in, sit down. Miranda was just leaving."

The operative let out sharp breath, her brows knitting together as she unfolded gracefully from the chair. "Very well, but Dr. T'Soni, please remember what we spoke about. We brought you here to assist with the reclamation of pertinent memory. Cognitive, leadership, and problem solving skill sets are paramount. Combat, operational, and technical skills are secondary. Personal memories are not a priority at this time." She met and held Shepard's gaze with a cocked eyebrow and steel pressed into her lips. "We need Captain Jane Shepard, hero of the Citadel, and soon." She strode to the door, tossing back a callous, brittle, "The galaxy will not wait for you to sort out your personal life, Shepard."

"She's intense." the asari said, once the door closed. She edged around the bed, eyes wide, entire face set in an expression so deer-in-headlights that Shepard almost laughed. The asari seemed to expect Shepard to erupt off the mattress and attack her. Nerves bled through her voice as she asked, "Are you feeling better?" She sat and balanced a large, covered mug on her knee.

Shepard nodded and focused on the asari's big, limpid blue eyes. "Yeah, whatever." A thousand questions burst in her head, tiny novas, none of which wore labels of cognitive processing or decision making.

Sweet baby Jesus, why did Liara have to look so damned afraid of her? She jumped up and paced to the port. Leaning against the ledge, she stared out at the black, directing the hurt and annoyance out into the vacuum. "So, you're here to poke around in my head some more? Make sure there aren't pieces missing everywhere?"

"Something like that." Shepard watched Liara's reflection in the window as the asari held out the mug, nervous turning to nervous hope. "Here, I thought you might like this. It looks as though they don't feed you here."

"They try. Being undead just doesn't do much for the appetite." She glanced over her shoulder, nose wrinkling as she sniffed suspiciously as if she could identify the mug's contents from that distance. "What is it?"

Huh, maybe you can. It's hot chocolate.

"Hot chocolate, extra sugar, extra creamer," Liara said, stretching her arm out a little further, sort of poking the cup at Shepard. Her face brightened, glowing like a child's on Mother's Day, their gift of a hard-battled-for tray of burnt toast and half-raw eggs clutched in eager hands.

Shepard scowled and shook her head. "Thanks, but I don't touch the stuff. Too sweet." Liara's face fall, nervous hope looking as though her refusal had taken an axe to it. Damn. The expression lasted only a second, but it spoke volumes in that second. "That's wrong, isn't it?" she asked, softening her tone. Liara really didn't deserve to take the brunt of her pent up angst and frustration. She bullied her brow and mouth until they softened. "When we knew one another, I drank it this way?"

Liara's lips pressed together for a moment, but then her eyebrows popped up and she shrugged, forcing a thin smile. "Doesn't matter." A brave attempt, the smile failed, melting away nearly as quickly as it formed, her eyes darkening toward tears. "Miranda filled me in on everything, and if all you've lost is your sweet tooth, I think we can consider ourselves incredibly blessed."

Oh damn. Shepard hobbled back to the bed and sat, reaching out to take the mug, hoping to forestall the waterworks. Frick, really? Doing it just to stop someone from inconveniencing her by showing emotion? Maybe Miranda had brought back a monster. Whatever happened to compassion? It used to be her founding tenet. Had death been enough to kill everything beautiful inside her?

Tears prickled the corners of her eyes. Would that kind voice even want her back as she was, hollowed out, the life sucked from her like some husk?

Closing both hands around the hot chocolate, she tried to draw in some of the heat that warmed and soothed the ache in her palms. A wan smile tried to form but it felt like tar and nettles splashed across her face. "Anyway, thanks for thinking of it." She stared down at the hot chocolate, taking an absent sip after about thirty seconds of silence. Oh yeah, so sweet. Her face crumpled inward, her jaw clanging like she had a gong lodged in the joint. When the clamour settled a little, she stretched her jaw out then asked, glancing up from under shuttered eyelids, "Miranda filled you in? On everything?"

"Yes. I didn't understand most of what she showed me about the project itself, but the scans of your head and spinal column said pretty much all I needed to know. That assassin blew your brains out, Shepard." The asari flushed and winced, an earnest grimace. "Sorry." Ducking her head in an embarrassed sort of shrug, she soldiered on, "It's amazing they were able to bring you back from that. I still can't quite believe it." The tears escaped at last, two errant drops that trickled over the blue cheeks. "We thought we'd lost you."

Pushing herself up a little, Shepard bristled. "You did, Liara. I died." She took a long draught off the mug, her jaw remaining silent that time. "I didn't ask for any of this. Whoever these people are, they graverobbed my body and did this to me." The fury burst loose, the ugliness settling happily over her face. She slapped her hands against her chest, savouring the pain, before stabbing them out, flinging them at the asari. "Look at me! I'm a fucking monster."

Liara shrank back and swiped at her cheeks, her eyes glistening almost the exact shade of the water on Virmire. Virmire … . She'd almost lost everything she loved on that damned planet.

Shepard turned to face the black waters of the sea as she raised her hand to her ear. A storm broiled just off the coast. She hoped it didn't hit land until nothing remained of Saren's base other than ash and smoke. "Brother Sparky, move the shuttle into the camp, and then I need to see you and Ash."

"Yes, ma'am." A moment later, the shuttle lifted out of the water and soared over her head.

Shepard looked back out at the sea, watching thunderheads roll over the waves. The water under her feet shimmered in the patchy sunlight, the minerals turning it a vibrant blue.

"Virmire's a beautiful place," she said, looking back to the salarian camp. "Shame we won't have time to enjoy it."

Liara's voice snagged Shepard, dragging her out of the memory. "I think you're one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen, Shepard. And … " As Shepard stared at her, lost and trying to catch up, the asari looked down, then glanced toward the door and back before continuing, "... I know there are others who will feel the same way." A watery smile accompanied a few more tears as they broke loose and rolled down her face. "You've really been missed. Anderson … ."

Shepard's grin broke like sunshine and fresh air through an opened window. "How is he? Is he all right? Miranda won't even let me call him."

"He's fine." Liara shrugged. "Still commanding the Normandy. Still fighting the good fight." Her hands wrung a little in her lap. "He took your death hard." A soft shrug rippled across her shoulders as she met Shepard's eyes. "It's best he doesn't know before he can see you. It would be too cruel otherwise, leaving him doubting … wondering if you were some sort of trick."

Shepard's eyebrows headed for her hairline. She hadn't thought of that, and the asari was right. If she contacted Anderson, half of him would need to see her, the other half would try to convince him that she was some sort of Reaper trick.

Shepard squirmed a little, stare returning to the floor, as a long, awkward silence stretched between them. She hadn't known Liara well enough to make small talk or even knowledgeable inquiries about her life. Well, most of it.

"How are things going? You and Aethyta getting along? Did Shiala make it to Thessia?" she asked, casting a quick, sideways glance at the camera. Who knew how much Miranda would allow Liara to say.

"It's been overwhelming," Liara replied, "but with Aethyta and Shiala's help, I've really been able to provide Archangel with solid intel and resources."

The intercom crackled.

"Subtle, Miranda," Shepard called, a slight sneer curled her lip, but she didn't look toward the camera again, Liara looked leery enough of it for the both of them. "Archangel?"

"It's a growing force—a fleet and soldiers—created by a truly remarkable gener—"

"Dr. T'Soni!" Miranda's voice barked from the speaker with enough volume to echo back. "Do not make me regret bringing you here."

"My apologies," Liara replied, her spine stiffening, ice falling over her delicate features. "I assumed that an organization widely known throughout the galaxy might be safe to mention." Something in the glare the asari shot at the camera said she was lying. She'd been trying to slip Shepard information and still was, the captain felt sure of it.

"They don't let me watch the news," Shepard told her, twitching one eyebrow. "I need to be kept ignorant and mindless." She shrugged and lifted her hands to indicate the room, her face a study in innocent acceptance. "In fact, this is my first day outside of the maximum security wing." Raising her voice to include Miranda, she continued, "So we'll discuss boring shit, like the weather … oh wait, that's probably classified as well." Mock horror flew at the camera. "Who knows what could happen if I discover it's raining in Calgary or partially cloudy over Armali."

The bitter helplessness of being caged shoved Shepard up off the bed. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut, fighting to keep her expression impassive even as her mug dropped from numb fingers. All the splits and canyons in her skin stretched and tore, but she fed the screams into the fire. Grinding her teeth, she hobbled down the bed to lean heavily against the desk standing at the foot. After sucking a couple long, seething breaths through a clenched jaw, she shook her head, the frustration and helplessness adding starch to the thick soup boiling her guts.

"Shepard?" Liara called, her voice soft. "Are you all right?"

"I'm losing my fucking mind, Liara." Her voice sounded and felt more like a growl than words, as she glanced back past her arm, levelling a pleading stare on the asari. "After about the time I became an N5, my entire life dissolves into these little snips of memory, moments with no context ... nothing to tie them together." Her head dropped to hang from her shoulders. "And I'm trapped in this corpse like a caged tiger in some backwater batarian menagerie."

Spinning, a fierce snarl contorting her face to the point of blinding agony, she cleared the desk with a single sweep of her arm. She slammed her fists down into the top, leaning against it. "You ever see what happens to those tigers? They pace for the first couple of years, endless circles around their cages. Then they stop caring and just lie around. The keepers have to force them to eat." She looked up to stare into the camera. "Eventually, they just lose their minds and start plucking all their own fur out, chewing on their legs and tails."

Liara appeared at Shepard's elbow, startling her.

Shepard spun, coming face to face with eyes so black they looked like sinkholes, disappearing into a bottomless emptiness. "Liara? Wha … ?"

"I'll help," the asari said. Shepard felt a sensation behind her eyes … it felt … not unlike fingers flipping through a cardfile. Liara smiled and nodded. "I agree with Miranda that we have to be cautious, but I'm here to help. We'll get it all pieced back together."

"Shepard, you need to calm down," Miranda said over the intercom, breaking the connection. "Sit down and relax."

Shepard glanced back up at the camera. The image of the operative sitting behind her monitors, tap tapping on her omnitool, twisted Shepard's mouth into a sardonic grimace. Still, she let out a long sigh and straightened.

"Thanks Liara." She patted the young woman's arm and hobbled back to her bed. She sat, letting the silence settle, heavy and thick before she reached down for her discarded hot chocolate and gulped down a couple of mouthfuls.

Keep it locked up, Janey. You've let Liara shake you. They won't let you out of here unless they believe that you're firing on all cylinders.

Right. Locked up. Sending a sly smile and a wink Liara's direction, Shepard changed the subject. "This organization must have offered you a small moon for you to leave your private island on Thessia."

"Actually, I was baited into a trap," Liara said, a nervous chuckle scarcely forming before it died. Her eyes never ceased moving, prey sensing a predator. "An old contact said he'd obtained the location of an undiscovered Prothean ruin. When I arrived at the meeting, Miranda and a small squad of goons put guns to my head and gave me a choice. I could either come with them and be well rewarded for my cooperation, or I could go about my business and forget I'd ever seen them." She chuckled again, but Shepard heard a real tremor of fear running beneath that one.

Shepard's left eyebrow lifted toward her hairline. The whole intrepid adventurer, taking risky, secret missions at gunpoint really didn't seem like the young woman's speed. "And you chose to come?"

Liara shrugged, blushing a little across her nose and cheeks. "They promised me that I'd see something I very much wanted to see, and that my work would be vital to the war effort against the Reapers." She reached out to grip Shepard's hands. "I guess they were right." A wicked grin grew under the innocence. "But, I do have half a floor a few levels up. You would not believe the tech … it's amazing. I don't know who Miranda works for, but they're insanely well funded."

Liara gave Shepard's hands a squeeze then released her and stood, pacing to the large port. "But if I'd known that the secret was that they'd brought you back, I would've come if they offered me a closet with a terminal." She stared out. "I can't believe it. Even after seeing the logs and data … I just … . How?"

Shepard shrugged, her head lowering to hang heavy and limp once again. It just seemed such a tremendous weight so much of the time. "I don't know. I was dead for most of it." Exhaustion pressed a massive hand on the back of her neck. She took another drink, appreciating the thick, rich hit of sugar that time.

And there it is, Janey. Poor man's drug of choice. Or maybe it's the safe drug of choice?

She raised her head just far enough to look at the camera, dead eyes staring through the feed at Miranda. "I'm tired. Can you run the regen field while I take a nap?" Not waiting for a reply she knew wouldn't come until Miranda appeared in her room, Shepard gave Liara a weary smile. "Would you join me for dinner in the cafeteria when I wake up? Hopefully by then I'm feeling up to walking down and back."

"Of course, Shepard. We can eat in between tripping over all the things I'm not allowed to talk about." Liara walked over and held out her hand, her young innocent smile beat back a little of the bleak fog drifting through Shepard's mind. Maybe, just maybe it might be okay that the asari had come to help. "I can take the hot chocolate."

Shepard looked down at the mug. "Actually, leave it. It's growing on me." She reached out, snagging Liara's fingers in a light grip. "I am glad to see you, Liara, even if it doesn't seem like it."

The asari nodded, her smile changing, aging her until Shepard saw through all the innocence and masking to the woman who'd spent nearly two years trying to fill shoes so much larger than she'd been ready for. Strength and resilience dwelled there. "I'll be expecting your call," Liara said and turned, striding to the door.

Shepard shook her head and slid off the side of the bed. The asari always glided as though on the main runway during a fashion show, even Liara, and she'd spent all her time in holes in the ground digging up bones and fifty thousand year old garbage.

Shepard's smile turned rueful as she remembered her mother's lack of patience with the tomboy who'd sprung from her womb walking like a linebacker, talking like a sailor, and sporting a stubborn streak a half-klick wide.

I swear to the sweet baby Jesus sitting by His holy Father's side in the heavens above, Jane Gwendolyn Shepard, you are going to be the death of me. How did you get those shiners? Have you been fighting again?

When the door closed behind Liara, Shepard let all emotion drain from her face and let out a sigh of relief. Pretending to be alive was just far too much work. She stood long enough to pull back her blankets, then lay down on her side, back to the wall. Truth be told, even though exhausted, she wanted time alone to pry at the weak spots appearing in that starched white sheet that hid her life. Remembering even a little of Virmire felt like a massive victory, and maybe, just maybe, Liara had softened things up a bit.

"I just have to keep hammering at the wall until I break it down," she grumbled to herself and closed her eyes.

"Don't worry," a deep, flanged voice said from behind her, "talking to yourself becomes standard as a guest of this organization."

A shriek ripped from Shepard's throat as she leaped almost straight up off the mattress, heart hammering in her chest. Rolling over, she slid out of bed, barely managing to land on her feet.

Fully expecting to find someone crouched next to the bed, she staggered into a wobbly fighting stance. No one. Rather than feeling reassured by facing a blank wall, ice cold talons grabbed hold of her brain and twisted. Dizzy, she fell forward, catching herself on the mattress. She shoved herself back up onto her feet. "Hello?" Surely she'd actually heard the voice: deep, male, and flanged but also coarse and cracked as if each word cost him a premium of pain.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm real." An almost metallic chuckle followed. "At least I think I'm still real. Enough parts and pieces remaining." A sound halfway between a sigh and a keen drifted up over her mattress, sorrowful resignation calming her fear. "The air vent," the voice said, its tone gentle despite its roughness. "I'm in the cell next to yours."

Shepard lay down on her front and wriggled closer to the vent. Ducking down, she peered through the slats. On the other side, a pair of dull, almost milky blue eyes watched her from under a low-slung hood. Shadows clung too close and thick to make out any of his features other than his eyes. Those eyes … they looked a thousand years old. She scowled and twisted her lips off to one side as she let out a thoughtful hum. "You can see in here."

She glanced back over her shoulder, practically squealing as she ran back through her hours in the room. "Oh God, you can see in here! Please tell me you weren't watching me sleep earlier." Scrambling backwards, she grabbed her blankets and pulled them up in front of her, feeling naked despite the thick shirt and trousers. "Thank god I haven't changed clothes outside the bathroom."

"I did consider it good form to introduce myself at the earliest possible chance," he said. "As for watching you sleep … no. You snore with enough volume that I couldn't concentrate on my reading." He let out a very familiar sort of wry chuff and she caught the slight flutter of mandibles. "I piled my pillows and blankets over the vent in a vain attempt to muffle the roar." A long sigh drifted through, the vent giving it a metallic, baffled sound. "I have no desire to peer at you through here like some sort of lecherous old deviant. I've … I've just been alone in here for a long time. I wasn't sure I could still use my voice for anything other than screaming."

Shepard lay face down on the mattress again and scooted a little closer so that she could just see those dull, beaten down looking eyes. "How long have you been here?" she asked, her voice scratching through still-paralyzed airways.

The pale stare turned away. "I'm not sure any more. There's no night and day here other than their schedule. Drugs … food arrives … more drugs ... they drag me off to their labs, when I return the room is clean … more drugs … food arrives … repeat." He looked back. "More than a year anyway."

Her face writhed between a pained grimace and outrage, all her earlier fear turning into indignant sorrow. "They've held you here for more than a year, experimenting on you the whole time? Fuck." A heavy, throbbing headache burrowed in behind her eyes. What the hell? Who were these monsters? Horror and disbelief rampaged through her head, tangling into a dizzy, nauseating maelstrom. "I … sweet baby Jesus … are you in pain?" she asked, giving voice to the only question that managed to untangle itself from the mess.

"Some. It's worse after one of their little war games and they strip all their tech out of me to analyze it. They haven't done that for a couple of weeks. But there's the drugs. They keep me pretty doped up most of the time." He chuckled, a sound like rock crushing glass … Shepard didn't think she'd ever heard a sound that tipped so close to madness.

God, what he must have been through … .

"Tried to die a few times," he continued, "but you know first hand how well that goes."

Shepard scooted all the way forward and reached out, pressing her hand to the grate. "You probably already know this, but I'm Jane … Jane Shepard. What's your name?"

He stared at her hand for a second, then looked back to her eyes. Talons swept down his face, moving the hood enough to reveal terrible rents in the side of his face as if chunks of it had been carved away. "I don't know." When his hand dropped, the hood rippled in slight wave that she translated as a shrug. "I know they picked up my body off the Citadel." His eyes narrowed. "I remember fighting, krogan everywhere. Then I woke up on their ship. They brought me here, and this is the first anyone has actually spoken to me since then."

"You fought on the Citadel? That was nearly two years ago." She pulled her hand back, balled it into a fist and rested her chin on it. "Damn." Shaking her head, she looked up at the camera. "I don't know who the hell these people are or what organization they work for, but I don't understand how they can get away with this. Someone needs to plant a few bombs and blow this entire place into molecules if this is the sort of shit they do here."

The hood rippled again then he looked away. "They do love their experiments. I've had so much of me taken out, cut away, replaced by tech that gets replaced by more tech." A bitter grunt splintered in his throat. "How much of someone do you think can be replaced by machine before you just stop being a person? Maybe I have become property."

"Every last inch except your soul," she said, pulling her brows down low over her eyes as she practically growled at the defeat in his voice. "You never let them take that."

The thin strips of light flickered off a twitched mandible. "I can see why they find you so frustrating. You've got a lot of fight in you." That chuckle again. "I heard you call your project head by the name Frankenstein and looked it up. It suits her … all of mine as well."

Wait, he'd looked something up? Brows soaring up toward her hair, eyes wide, mouth open and breathless, she asked, "You can access the extranet?" Hope bloomed bright and hot in her chest. Had they bunked her next to a means of escape?

"No." Hope crashed and burned, everything falling straight back to exhausted. "They gave me a library to keep me occupied. Two years, you said?" He turned away, paused and then whispered. "My drugs have arrived. They like to keep me … what is that human phrase I read? … stoned out of my gourd while I'm not pit fighting." He chuckled again, the sound as torn up and raw as his face. Damn, he teetered so close to the precipice. It wouldn't even take a push to send him sliding into the void.

Shepard's door opened. Not bothering to cover the fact she'd been talking to the prisoner next door, she glanced back at Miranda, flint hard and sharp. "You people are fucking diabolical." She turned around, sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed. "How can you let shit like that … " She hooked her thumb toward the vent. "... go on? You make me sick."

The operative activated her omnitool. "I see you've met Specimen Alpha."

The fury exploded behind Shepard's eyes, short-circuiting her brain so that when she opened her mouth, only stuttering came out for a good ten seconds. "Oh my fucking sweet bloody baby Jesus, you did not just call that torin a specimen."

Miranda sighed as she tapped the haptic interface, starting the regen field. "According to Alliance law, deceased specimens may be reanimated and implanted—"

Shepard leapt up, slamming into Miranda with enough force to throw the woman back. The operative tripped over the chair, sitting down hard.

"Get out!" Grabbing two handfuls of leather, Shepard propelled Miranda to the door, her anger providing a strength and surefootedness that surprised her … and apparently Miranda as well because the woman just stumbled along without resisting. "Get the fuck out of my room. Reanimated specimens?" She opened the door and threw Miranda into the hallway. "Is that what I am? A fucking reanimated specimen?" Molten fury heated her skin, feeling as though it flowed just beneath the surface to bubble up through the cracks.

"Shepard!" Miranda pinwheeled her arms as she half-slid, half-ran a couple of metres. Recovering, she let out an exasperated huff of breath and smoothed down her catsuit, ordering her momentary surprise … and yes, Shepard saw fear there ... back into calculated equanimity. "That's not what I meant." She held out her hands, a placating gesture, and took a halting step forward. "I don't know anything about Specimen Alpha other than his designation and that he's quartered next door. I can't comment on another department's—"

"Experiments? Lab rats? Torture victims?" She stepped back and began to close the door. "Must be nice to be able to compartmentalize like that. Makes it really easy on the conscience."

"Shepard … ." Miranda tapped the display on her omnitool. "Shepard, I'll look into it, all right? If Speci … if he is being mistreated, I'll take it to my employer. For now, get some sleep." She keyed in a command, then flicked it off.

Shepard just shut the door, stormed back to her bed and threw herself down on the mattress. Specimen Alpha leaned propped up against the vent, his eyes half-closed, a low, almost sobbing moan trembling under his every breath.

"If I needed a reason to bust out of this place, big fella … you just gave it to me." She pressed her fingers to the vent, and blinked back her tears. He didn't need them. He needed her to be tough, to get herself back to one hundred percent, and to get them the hell out of there.

Miranda sure knew how to choose her bait.

A-N: (Re-written to not suck massively 09/04/2015) Thanks for reading