"Touch me and I will smear the wall with you, bitch!" Jack shouted.

Shepard, Miranda and Jack had just returned from the surface of Pragia. And despite leveling every structure within a ten klick radius—a response Miranda felt was extreme even by the volatile young woman's typically irresponsible standards—Jack had scowled pointedly at the Cerberus operative for nearly the entire trip back up into orbit.

Once back onboard the Normandy, Jack had followed Miranda all the way to the XO's office, needling her as they went. The shouting between the two women had reached a crescendo and the air was becoming electric with dark energy as Jack began to levitate several pieces of loose equipment in the room and a chair was sent hurtling toward Miranda.

Feeling she'd had just about enough of this wicked girl's spite, Miranda easily sidestepped the chair and flared her own biotics just as Shepard stormed into the office.

"Enough! Stand down—both of you," Shepard commanded.

Jack shot Shepard a defiant look. "The cheerleader won't admit that what Cerberus did to me was wrong."

"It wasn't Cerberus," Miranda shrugged. "Not really. But clearly you were a mistake."

"Screw you!" Jack shouted. "You've got no idea what they put me through. Maybe it's time I show you."

Miranda crossed her arms under her breasts and gave Jack a smug look as the impulsive biotic leered menacingly back at her.

Shepard pushed his way between the two women. "Damn it, you two! Our mission is too important to let personal feelings get in the way."

"Fuck your feelings," Jack spat at the Commander. "I just want her dead."

Shepard turned toward Jack and shot her a scolding look. "Hey! You both know what we're up against. Save this bullshit for the Collectors."

Miranda softened her stance and looked at the Commander apathetically. "I can put aside my differences—until the mission's over."

"Sure, I'll do my part," Jack said flippantly. "I'd hate to see her die before I had the chance to fillet her myself." She then stormed out of the office, brushing past Shepard.

"You two gonna be okay?" Shepard asked Miranda.

Miranda nodded as she walked behind her desk and sat down. "We'll manage," she said. "But, it's a good thing you came by when you did. As long as she does her job, we'll be fine. Thanks Shepard."

Shepard nodded and promptly left Miranda's office, looking both annoyed and vaguely amused. But as the door slid closed behind the Commander, Miranda looked back up from her terminal and sighed. It really was fortunate that Shepard had gotten there when he did. That would have gotten very ugly, very fast if it hadn't been for him, she thought grimly.

Pushing away from her desk and standing back up, Miranda began to pace back and forth. She was irritated by Jack's bitter accusations toward her and Cerberus, but the disturbing images of what they had discovered on the surface of Pragia were already etched in her mind. Despite her stubborn refusal to appease Jack and take responsibility for what the girl had gone through in that facility, Miranda found herself feeling dirty and tainted. Cerberus—or at least this one particular cell—had robbed Jack of her innocence and molded the girl into the sociopath she was today.

Shepard had insisted his XO accompany the team down to the surface, which bothered Miranda nearly as much as what they had found in the defunct labs and dormitories. Despite his practical assertion that she should be there to assess the site, Miranda knew Shepard's motivation to take her along had little to do with concerns over the integrity of a former Cerberus facility.

Steadily growing more agitated as she replayed the mission in her mind and feeling cross over the confrontation with Jack, Miranda abruptly left her office, marched directly to the lift and then straightaway up to Shepard's quarters.

Arriving at the Captain's cabin a minute later, Miranda hit the call button for his door.

"Enter," she heard Shepard call out in a weary voice.

She strode forward but then stopped just inside the entryway, finding Shepard still the midst of tearing away his battle-scarred N7 armor, haphazardly tossing pieces on the floor near his armor locker. He was bare-chested, and Miranda found herself nearly blushing at the sight. Get a hold of yourself, Miranda. For god's sake, you've seen the man naked many times before.

But as she stood there for a moment and studied the man, she knew that that had been very different. During the two years of Project Lazarus, Shepard had been little more to Miranda than a highly valued Cerberus asset. And over the course of the first several weeks of their mission on the new Normandy, that view of the man hadn't changed much.

But after what he had done for her and Oriana, after helping them without hesitation, something had clicked for Miranda. Perhaps it was his unaffected and altruistic nature. Or maybe the easy charm that he exuded even when dealing with the harshest of characters. Whatever it was, and regardless of her attempts to keep things strictly professional, she could no longer fool herself into thinking that things weren't different now.

And she knew that things were different for Shepard too. She felt it. He was attracted to her and looking for something more than a simple working relationship from his XO. Maybe that's why he had been pushing her so frequently—challenging her at every opportunity to reassess Cerberus and the life that had led her to the Illusive Man. Whatever his motivations, there was an undercurrent of… something.

And now, these genuine feelings that had begun to emerge between her and Shepard made the Illusive Man's orders all the more uncomfortable. After what he had done for her, after the unwavering support he provided, seducing the man because her employer ordered it felt like a betrayal.

So she had done her best to ignore those orders while distancing herself from the Commander. She had kept the man at arm's length, careful to avoid being caught alone with him as much as possible. But Shepard wasn't someone easily discouraged when he had his mind set on something. And did she even really want him to stop his pursuit? That was an entirely different matter.

"Something I can do for you?" he said, pulling Miranda from her thoughts.

Recovering, Miranda walked down the steps to the living area of his cabin, placed a hand on her hip and cleared her throat. "Shepard, we need to talk more about Jack."

Shepard sighed and gave Miranda a tired look. "We've been through this, Miranda," he said. "And you just said you could deal with it until we're through the mission. What's the problem?"

"That woman's a damn menace, Shepard," Miranda said, raising her voice an octave higher than she intended.

Shepard shrugged. "I agree she's unpredictable and a little… rough around the edges," he said with a wry grin. "But our chances are much better with her than without. No offense, but she's the most powerful human biotic I've ever seen. You should probably try not to provoke her."

Miranda frowned, but even with her considerable pride knew he was right. "I understand that, Commander," she said. "And I don't disagree with your assessment of her combat abilities. Clearly, they're substantial. But her mere presence is a destabilizing element on the ship. Most of the crew is terrified of her."

Shepard looked at her with a smirk. "Miranda, most of the crew is terrified of you."

Miranda opened her mouth to protest, but caught herself and sighed. "I suppose that might be true," she said with a grimace. "But I'm not likely to murder one of the engineers if they look sideways at me."

Shepard chuckled lightly. "Well, that's good, knowing you get more than your fair share of sideways glances," he said, smiling and gesturing with exaggeration at the typical skintight outfit she was wearing.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Please, Commander. I'm being serious here."

Shepard sat down on the edge of his bed and placed his hands on his thighs. "I get it. But, you have to admit, that was some pretty fucked up shit going on down there."

Miranda averted her eyes and exhaled heavily. "Yes, I know. It was awful—I admit it. But that was a rogue cell and no longer a sanctioned Cerberus operation at the time. You saw the evidence yourself."

Shepard looked at her with an incredulous expression. "You really believe that? Come on, Miranda. You're just rationalizing, looking for an excuse to shield Cerberus and the Illusive Man's reputation."

She looked at him with a pleading expression, caught between defiance and shame. "You meant for me to see it, didn't you?" Miranda said in a quiet voice. "You knew what we'd find down there."

Shepard stood up from the bed and faced Miranda, an unflinching look in his eyes. "Maybe I did," he said. "Maybe you needed to see that—to see who you really work for."

Miranda narrowed her gaze, eyeing Shepard suspiciously. "I don't appreciate being manipulated, Commander," she said.

Shepard let out a harsh laugh. "No shit? Well join the club, Lawson. After what your boss pulled with that Collector ship, I'm getting a little tired of being jerked off myself. "

Miranda stared back at Shepard with her mouth agape, temporarily lost for words before she recovered. "I told you, I disagreed with his methods. And I raised those same objections to him myself."

"Oh, you raised those objections to him yourself, huh?" he said mockingly. "Well fuck, Miranda. That makes me feel so much better. Christ, no wonder Jack's looking to take you out. I mean, did you really see what was happening on Pragia? Or how your boss nearly got us all killed last week.

"I… Shepard. I know it was terrible," she said and swallowed, looking down at the floor.

"What do you think Oriana would say about that lab on Pragia?"

Miranda flinched but then took a step closer to Shepard, her eyes widening in anger. "Don't you dare use her against me like that!"

"Oh, did I strike a nerve?" Shepard said. "Good. It's nice to know you're still capable of some genuine emotions."

"What are you talking about?" Miranda said in exasperation. "You know what I went through to secure Oriana's safety."

Shepard took a quick step closer, causing Miranda to recoil slightly as he stared at her with an intense look in his eyes. "I do," he said. "I know what you went through and how that girl's safety is the most important thing in your life. Hell, I think she's the one thing that's kept you slipping entirely down the rabbit hole Cerberus has dug. But I also know that you could just as easily have walked away from that girl, never bothering to learn who she really was, once you'd fulfilled your mission. It's that human response I don't want you to forget."

Miranda looked back down at the floor, averting her eyes from Shepard's penetrating gaze. "I don't see what one thing has to do with the other," she said softly.

Shepard grasped her upper arms firmly, but not roughly. "Miranda," he said, forcing her to look back up at him. "Someday you're going to have to stop pushing people away and actually feel something."

Shepard's face was only inches from Miranda's, staring down at her with a smoldering look in his eyes. Her heart was suddenly pounding and she could feel herself go flush as the heat steadily rose up her neck. She swallowed hard, utterly lost for words.

Then he was kissing her.

And as he pulled her body in close to his own, she hungrily kissed him back, loosing herself in his embrace.

Part of her knew she should stop this—to pull away and run from his quarters. But that rational voice was being stamped out by the raw, carnal emotions that were overpowering her. She thrust her tongue into his mouth as she placed her arms over his shoulders.

Soon, she was eagerly unzipping the front of her uniform and pulling his hand to her breast.

Shepard moved his hands down Miranda's body, tracing the curves of her beautiful figure. He then grasped her hips, pulling her in closer to him as he lifted her over to the bed…

Later, after Shepard had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around her, Miranda carefully slipped out of his caress and extricated herself from his bed. She then quickly gathered up her clothes that were scattered near the foot of the bed and disappeared into his private bathroom.

Stepping out a few minutes later, and once again fully dressed, Miranda looked to her right and saw the bizarre hamster Shepard had picked up some time ago. The rodent was eyeing her curiously.

"What?" she said and shook her head.

Taking a few quiet steps to the edge of the little stairs that led down to Shepard's bed, she paused in the cool blue light of the aquarium and stared down at where he was sleeping contentedly. I guess he's a heavy sleeper after sex, she smiled to herself. Miranda then hurried out of the cabin and into the elevator, heading straight back to her quarters.

A minute later, Miranda sat down behind her desk and logged into the terminal. "EDI, bring up the footage of Shepard's quarters beginning timestamp 2308 hours last evening, please."

"Accessing data and delivering to your console, Miss Lawson," EDI replied.

The image of Shepard grasping Miranda's arms as she stared up into his eyes appeared paused on the video display. She hit play and watched for a moment as she and the Commander became locked in a passionate embrace, kissing each other and beginning to pull each other's clothes off.

Stopping the video, Miranda closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "EDI, delete video and audio record of Shepard's cabin beginning timestamp 23:05 last night to current star-date and time and purge all data archives, authorization Lawson, 23-MOL7600JK."

"Understood, Miss Lawson. Purging data now."

"Thank you, EDI," Miranda replied. "That will be all."

"Very well. Logging you off, Miss Lawson."

Miranda stood up, moving over to the large observation window, and gazed out past her reflection into the stars beyond. That's all I need; to star in the Commander Shepard sex tape that goes viral over the extranet, she thought to herself as she smiled and shook her head. "Bloody hell, what were you thinking?" she said out loud.

You were following orders, she reminded herself. She had done what had been asked of her.

But sleeping with Shepard didn't feel like a duty. It felt like something different. It felt like something… more.

Returning to her terminal, Miranda brought up the real-time vid feed from Shepard's quarters. He was still in bed, just as she had left him a few minutes ago, happily sleeping through the night. She watched him for a long while, a growing smile spreading across her face, as she focused on the point in his bed where she had been wrapped in his arms a short time earlier.

Miranda felt the sudden urge to run back up to his cabin and reclaim that spot in his bed next to him.

But instead, reluctantly, she reached over and turned off the video feed.

Swiveling around in her chair, Miranda stared back out into space through the observation window.

Things had just become a lot more complicated.

The harsh slam of the cell door's slider jarred Miranda to the present and out from her memory of that night on the Normandy so many months ago. She was facing the wall of her cell, her back to the cell door, curled up in a ball on the cot and feeling achy all over.

It had been six days since she first woke up in her prison and met her tormentor, Lieutenant Silva. Since then, Miranda had been interrogated relentlessly by the man, sometimes as much as sixteen hours a day.

It was always the same: The guards would show up at her cell, burst in through the door, seize her in their powerful grips and drag her down the length of a long cell block corridor to a large, circular room that looked something like a medical operating theatre, with several rows of tiered seating a level above. But those seats were never occupied. It was always just Miranda, Silva, a couple of medical techs, and several guards standing by vigilantly along the walls.

During the first interrogation session, Miranda was thrown into a metal examination chair in the center of the room and strapped down with thick, leather restraints. Two medical techs in surgical masks quickly proceeded to drill into the back of head, just at the base of her skull, and implant some kind of device. It was extraordinarily painful and Miranda nearly passed out as she screamed in agony. Once the procedure was completed, they immediately set to work on her.

The "treatments," as Silva referred to them, consisted of a neural interface device plugged into the spot at the back of her head where the med techs had done their work on her. Designed to illicit vivid memory reproduction during interrogation through holographic projection, the device was essentially a highly advanced method of accessing targeted areas of the subject's mind.

In conjunction with the device, the medical techs would inject her with additional compounds that Miranda knew were meant to breakdown her resistance further and increase her susceptibility to questioning. She assumed the serum was some mixture of psychoactive drugs, probably at least in part barbiturates, and other more exotic compounds. Regardless of their composition, the end result was that the drugs made her head foggy and impaired her ability to focus her resistance to the questioning, weakening her resolve more and more as the sessions went on.

Silva questioned her about a wide range of topics, including the Illusive Man's whereabouts and agenda, Shepard's reconstruction during Lazarus, what they had found beyond the Omega 4 relay, and most of all, what they had learned about the Reapers. Oddly, Silva seemed more interested in what plans Shepard and Cerberus had put into motion to resist the Reaper invasion rather than learn more about how to fight them.

Miranda's resistance to Silva's questioning resulted in fragmented and distorted holo projections of her memories, frustrating the man as the days went on. But the price she paid for her obstinacy was severe. Every attempt to evade a question or willingly mislead her interrogator led to electrical feedback from the device she was attached to, bringing on tremendous pain that radiated throughout her entire body.

The sessions would last up to several hours at a time, with Miranda being dragged back and tossed into her cell for an hour or two during the interim. Two or three times a day, the same dismal contents of her meal tray were pushed through the slider, but Miranda was never allowed to sleep more than an hour or two at a time before she was jerked awake again and taken back for more questioning.

Now, rolling over on her side to face the door, she saw the usual meal tray had been slid through the cell door's slider. Feeling too weak to stand, she struggled off the cot and crawled over to the tray on her hands and knees. It was always the same—the protein supplement compound, horrendous looking vegetables, and a single bottle of water. She snatched up the bottle of water and began to take slow, easy sips as she sat down on the cold stone floor with her back against the wall. She was still badly dehydrated and becoming malnourished, but at least wasn't getting ill as frequently as her body adapted to the harsh chemical serum they were injecting within her to suppress her biotics. The throbbing pain from her fractured eye socket was still severe as her jailers had no intention of properly attending to the injury and Miranda's genetically enhanced healing capabilities were weakening by the day as her body was worn down by the constant strain of Silva's machine.

As Miranda clutched the bottle of water and eyed the rest of the tray's contents with disgust, she heard the sound of hard soled combat boots striding down the corridor toward her cell. As the guards approached, she took a steeling breath and prepared herself for the latest round of tortures she was about to be subjected to. She took a final sip of water and then rolled the half-full bottle under her cot just as the two men burst into her cell. Miranda glared up at them in defiance as they seized her arms, jerked her to her feet, and dragged her down the corridor to the interrogation room.

Arriving in the cold medical theatre, Miranda saw that Silva and two medical techs were already waiting near the equipment. The guards thrust her violently into the metal examination chair and immediately secured the thick leather restraining straps around her wrists, ankles and across her forehead. As was typical, one of the med techs approached with a long hypodermic needle and stabbed her in the arm, injecting the chemicals that caused her mind to go cloudy and broke down her resistance. She could feel as the other tech secured the interface to the back of her skull. The sensation was exceedingly uncomfortable, feeling as if someone was jabbing a finger carelessly into an open wound.

Silva stood in front of Miranda with his hands clasped behind his back and looking at her with his usual emotionless detachment. "Alright, Miss Lawson, let's start from the top."

Nearly three hours later, Miranda was panting in exhaustion as the distorted holographic image of a Reaper flickered in front of her. Her filthy smock was stained fresh with perspiration as she struggled to suppress the knowledge Silva wanted to extract and endured the intense pain coursing through her cells.

Finally, Silva looked over to one of the techs and nodded. "That will do for now," he said.

As the Reaper image vanished and Miranda's trembling body began to relax again, Silva approached and leaned in close to her ear. "I warned you about the measures I would be forced to employ if you resisted me, Miss Lawson," he said. "This doesn't have to be difficult or painful."

Miranda turned her head to face the man, still pouring with sweat and breathing heavily. "Go fuck yourself," she hissed.

Silva straightened and looked down at Miranda with a look of disappointment mixed with pleasure. He then turned and motioned to one of the guards stationed by the door. "It's time," he said. "Bring her in now."

Following Silva's gaze, Miranda then learned that she was not the only member of Normandy's crew being held in that horrible place as two guards came through the doorway dragging another female prisoner between them. She immediately recognized the woman as Crewman Sarah Patel. The girl had a terrified look in her eyes as she struggled in vain against the guards pulling her along. Clearly having been beaten, Patel had severe bruising across her face and it looked as if part of her left ear had been sliced off. Inexplicably, the woman was clad in Miranda's white and black catsuit. Watching in horror, a profound sense of dread seized Miranda's heart and fear tightened in her gut.

Silva addressed Miranda in his cold, businesslike manner. "As I originally explained to you, lack of cooperation would result in severe penalties." He then nodded to the guards holding Patel, motioning to the back corner of the room.

Miranda turned her head as far as the strap across her forehead would allow as she strained to see what they were going to do with Sarah. The girl was panic-stricken and pleading with Miranda to help her, sobbing uncontrollably.

"You'll be fine, Patel," Miranda managed in a shaky voice. "Just tell them whatever they want to know."

Silva was suddenly at Miranda's ear. "You're mistaken, Miss Lawson," he said in almost a whisper. "I require no information from this crewman." He then nodded again to the guards holding Patel.

Miranda struggled again with her restraints, trying to see what was happening at the other side of the room. The guards then threw Patel down hard onto a simple metal chair, zip-tied the girl's hands behind her, and then covered her head with a dingy canvas hood. The girl was screaming in panic as one of the guards took a step back, pulled a sidearm from his belt, and pressed the muzzle of the heavy pistol against Patel's covered head.

"No!" Miranda cried just before the guard pulled the trigger, exploding the girl's brains through the other side of the flimsy canvas hood and against the opposite wall. Patel's body crumpled to the ground as the force of the shot toppled the chair on its side.

Miranda remained staring at the point where Sarah's body was laying on the floor, a pool of blood rapidly forming under the woman's head.

"I hope you now realize that there are indeed severe consequences to your continued stubbornness, Miss Lawson," Silva said.

Drawing her gaze away from Patel's body, Miranda turned to face Silva. "I am going to kill you," she hissed.

He stared back at the broken and battered operative for a long moment, untroubled by the threat, and then motioned for the other guards to come forward. "I think that will do for now," he said. "We'll start up again in another few hours."

The guards then pounced on Miranda and began pulling off her restraints as the med techs extracted the interface from behind her head. As their cruel hands lifted her from the chair and dragged her to the door, she craned her neck back around and looked toward where Patel's body was laying crumpled on the ground, eerily clad in Miranda's old clothes.

Arriving back at her cell a few moments later, the guards callously shoved Miranda through the threshold, causing her to crash hard onto the floor, and then slammed the door shut.

Miranda laid there on the cold stone floor for several moments, too exhausted to pull herself up. Finally, she summoned the energy to rise on her hands and knees and then sat upright against the wall. Pulling her badly scrapped knees in close to her body and wrapping her arms around her legs, Miranda stared forward vacantly, picturing the agonized look Patel had given her just before being dragged away to her death. Feeling her resolve collapsing, Miranda began to sob uncontrollably.

Miranda jolted awake at the sound of the cell door crashing open. She had fallen asleep where she sat against the wall, her head resting on her knees. The familiar routine of the guards bolting into the cell and yanking her up from the armpits followed. And a moment later she was being dragged down the hallway to the room where they had murdered Patel a short while earlier.

Pushing through the double-doors to the interrogation room, Miranda saw that Silva, two other guards and the usual two med techs were already standing by the chair she would be strapped down onto. Looking toward the corner of the room, she noted that Patel's body had been removed and the girl's blood had been thoroughly cleaned from the floor and wall. Miranda felt a pang of guilt and remorse as the image of the woman's execution replayed in her head.

As the guards thrust Miranda into the chair and began fastening the restraints around her wrists and legs, Silva approached. The despicable man leaned in and spoke to Miranda in a quiet and measured voice. "I regret to have to resort to such barbaric measures, Miss Lawson. But I'm afraid you're leaving me little other choice. Pain alone or the suffering of others does not appear to be a sufficient enough consequence for your continued resistance."

He then raised his hand to her face to show her the small, cylindrical object he was holding. "This is a surgical laser scalpel," he said. "I'm sure you recognize the tool, given your medical training. It burns very clean, cauterizing incisions as it cuts precisely through skin, cartilage and bone." Silva gave Miranda an unjoyful smile that caused a chill to go down her back. "I intend to use it to remove your left ear."

Miranda let out a whimper as she began to tremble in fear. She struggled against the restraints with what little strength she had remaining, but the straps seemed only to bite into her skin even further.

Silva switched on the device and a searing hot beam of focused laser energy jumped off the tip, just inches from Miranda's eye. "After I've taken your ear, I will begin removing the digits of your right hand. If you continue to resist my inquiries I will proceed to disfigure you until you are prepared to be more cooperative."

Miranda shot the man a defiant glare as tears of stress and anguish streamed down her cheeks and then spat in his face.

Silva stood up straight and exhaled deliberately as he produced a small handkerchief and wiped the spittle from his brow and eye. He smiled again and then opened his mouth to say something further, but then jumped as a powerful explosion reverberated down the corridor, violently shaking the chair Miranda was strapped to and rattling the medical equipment in the room.

A moment later, the lights went out and the room was temporarily thrown into darkness before the emergency lighting sparked to life and illuminated the area with harsh red-toned light.

Silva looked momentarily dismayed but then recovered and turned to the guards standing by the door. The men had already drawn their side arms and were peering though the windows of the double-doors. "Go see what happened," Silva commanded. The two guards obeyed and pushed through the doors with their guns pointed downrange, dashing down the long corridor Miranda had become so familiar with over the last several days. Silva then glanced over at the remaining two guards in the room and gestured toward Miranda. "Watch her," he said.

The two med techs nervously ran to the doors and sealed the entrance as Miranda heard the sharp staccato of rapid-fire weapons echoing in the distance. There were three distinct bursts of fire, each seeming nearer than the last, and then another loud, booming explosion rumbled through the facility's walls.

A few seconds later, the telltale muffled "pop" of a smoke grenade sounded from the other side of the room's doors. Then there were shouts of alarm from panicked soldiers attempting to repel whatever attack was coming before the final roar of several high-caliber rounds thundered down the passageway and something heavy was slammed against the other side of the wall.

Shining through the windows, Miranda saw the unmistakable flash of vivid, bright-blue light and the crackling of dark energy as the doors to the interrogation room were pulled outward and ripped from their the hinges with a loud "crack." Straining her head against the restraint strapped over her brow, she saw the muzzles of two submachine guns pop through the thick chemical smoke that was billowing in from the corridor. Kasumi and Liara emerged through the cloud behind their weapons a split second later.

A burst of three rounds from Kasumi's Locust caught one of the guards flush in the face, exploding the man's unprotected head into a fine mush against the back wall. The second guard made a step to his left, dashing for cover while he brought the barrel of his own SMG up toward the women, but Liara's stasis field stopped him in his tracks, suspending the man almost comically in mid-sprint.

Mordin and Tali burst through a moment later, right on the heels of their squadmates. The quarian didn't hesitate when she saw the biotically immobilized guard and fired a pointblank round from the heavy shotgun she was wielding, blowing a grapefruit-sized hole through the man's chest and sending him tumbling across the floor. Meanwhile, the salarian leveled his M-6 Carnifex Hand Cannon at the two med techs that had retreated toward the other side of the room, keeping them at bay as they rapidly backed up with their hands thrown up in surrender.

To Miranda's right, Silva was slowly raising his own hands as he allowed the laser scalpel to drop to the floor.

"Clear!" Liara shouted to her squad and then moved the muzzle of her weapon in Silva's direction.

Tali lowered her shotgun a fraction and looked over to where Miranda was strapped down on the metal examination chair. "Keelah…" she muttered and her shoulders slumped as she took in Miranda's appearance.

The former Cerberus operative was still clad in the filthy, sweat-stained smock and the right side of her face was badly swollen and bruised. Her knees were scraped raw from repeatedly being thrown hard to the floor of the cell and Miranda's hair had been haphazardly sliced away in patches where the med techs had attached probes and monitors into her head.

Kasumi rushed to the chair that Miranda was strapped to and immediately began to pull her restraints loose. "Hold on, honey," she said as her voice cracked with emotion. "We're here."

Miranda looked up at her friend and swallowed. "There are others…" she started to say, almost inaudibly.

"It's okay, we know," Kasumi said in a comforting voice. "We have a squad of Liara's agents with us. They're securing the rest of the facility now."

Liara looked over at Miranda with a disturbed look, startled by the woman's state. "We found four other crewmembers alive and the bodies of Patel and Hadley," she said and then glanced down at the floor. "I'm… sorry we didn't get here in time for them."

Mordin walked over to Miranda and began to help Kasumi free the woman from the chair. He looked around the room with a disgusted look and glared over at Silva. "Unacceptable treatment," he said, shaking his head. "Extreme and unnecessary. Torture and executions. Suggests desire to punish. Not interrogate. No value in this."

Miranda moved her eyes back and forth between her rescuers. "Shepard…? Where's John?"

"We don't know yet, Miranda," Liara said. "The Normandy showed up in Earth orbit four days ago, but Shepard wasn't with the impound force. I'm looking everywhere, but I think he's being moved frequently. They're likely holding him on another starship."

Kasumi and Mordin finished unfastening Miranda's restraints and carefully helped the battered woman out of the chair. Standing up on her unsteady legs as her friends helped support her, Miranda turned toward where Silva was standing. Tali gasped when she saw the ragged hole at the base of Miranda's head where her interrogators had been connecting the neural interface. Mordin looked at the wound, furrowed his brow and then waved his Omni-tool over Miranda's neck to examine her.

Miranda ignored Mordin's attempt to assess her wounds and remained fixated on where Silva was standing. "Kasumi," she said quietly as she kept her gaze locked on the man that had been overseeing her torture, "I require your sidearm, please."

Kasumi looked over at Liara with an uncertain look, but the asari simply nodded curtly. Kasumi then removed the M-5 Phalanx heavy pistol from her thigh holster and handed the weapon to Miranda.

Silva was standing silently against the wall, his hands still raised in surrender. His expression was neutral and slightly vacant, as if he was appraising the scene unfolding before him with mild curiosity. Miranda approached the man on unsteady legs, summoning a final reserve of strength. "Where is Commander Shepard?" she asked breathlessly.

Silva cocked his head to the side and studied Miranda with the same cold expression he had been wearing the first day they'd met. "I am not privy to that information, Miss Lawson."

Miranda stared back into the man's vacant eyes for a long moment and nodded slowly. "I believe you," she said in a quiet voice. She then raised the Carnifex and fired a single shot between his eyes, jerking the man's head backwards as the contents of his skull exploded onto the wall behind him.

Miranda took another step closer to Silva's body lying in a heap on the floor and proceeded to empty the rest of the pistol's magazine into his lifeless form as she cried out in rage and anguish.

As the pistol's firing bolt locked back on a spent thermal clip, Miranda allowed the weapon to drop from her hand, and then fell to her knees.

Shaking uncontrollably from the immense release of tension, she collapsed to the ground unconscious as Tali and Kasumi rushed to her side.

Author's note:

Whew… I really felt this one, having to exact so much pain on Miranda. But don't worry, she can take it.

And I realize that the sequencing of some of these flashbacks might be a little confusing. In retrospect, I should have mapped them out a little better to avoid confusion. But, what's done is done, live and learn, and all of that. I don't have too many more flashbacks anyway—just one or two more soon after this chapter.

Thank god for medicine in 2186—Miranda's gonna need it. But don't worry, I'm sure Mordin will get her all patched up and back into fighting trim.

I had two very different scenarios planned out for how Miranda escapes from the prison but ultimately felt that having the old team come to her rescue was more emotionally satisfying. I won't reveal my other idea for the resolution here just yet as I'm likely going to use elements of it in the future. Cheers!