A/N:

My new favorite quote, courtesy of MonkeyEpoxy at the DLP Forums, that somehow I missed earlier:

"God, I hate the Alliance. Long live Cerberus. But at the same time, fuck Cerberus."

That alone lifted my spirits today, which I needed. I'll admit this chapter was ... ugly to write. It was venting, in some ways. Some of it is based on my own experiences. Most of us don't have bionic bones when we punch a wall and end up fucking our right hand up for the rest of our lives.

I don't want to dwell too much on this. For lots of reasons. Enough so that the point gets across, not so much to where it becomes repetitive. But it is repetitive, in your soul. It's always there.

Reviews are always welcome.


'You want me to beg, Aria? Fine. *spits in face* I beg your pardon'

- Aethyta to Aria, Omega


Shepard leaned back in the chair, thinking, eyes watching the man sitting across from her carefully.

She knew she was face to face with probably one of the most dangerous human beings in the universe. Not in a physical sense – even before they'd turned her into the fucking bionic woman, she could have killed Harper with her bare hands in any of a dozen ways.

No, she had enough sense to realize he was dangerous because of his mind, and his ability to convince people. That's why he was risking his own neck to meet her face to face, to dismiss the barrier between them. Because he knew full well she would respect that risk.

It hit her that they had all the time in the world to figure her out. Decide exactly how to play her. She had to stay cool, despite the fact she felt like a wrung out dishrag, or the bastard would no doubt hustle her like he'd hustled her friends into chasing her body.

She blanked her features. Somehow that was easier now. Maybe because her face was fucking fake, or maybe because her heart was a hollow, cored out wreck. She could cry later. She could grieve later. Right now, she had to decide what the hell to do.

"Alright, convince me. But I'm only going to say this once, Jack. I don't like being played or lied to. I've had enough people try to use me for their own ends. I'm done with that shit."

Harper, for his part, merely leaned back in his own seat. "If you say so, Shepard. I have no intention – or need – to lie to you. And while I don't plan to manipulate you, I do plan to use you. When I say I need your help, that doesn't equate to an equal partnership. I have my strengths and weaknesses. So do you. Yours, right now, are more severe than mine."

She folded her arms. "That's not a real reassuring opening."

He lifted his cigarette to his lips, drawing on it before waving his free hand. "Chambers says you dislike elaborate talk, and prefer people to be direct. So I am going to indulge you in that regard. First, I will explain why the Alliance and the Council can't help you. Then, why Cerberus can. And finally, I'm going to show you why you will want our help."

She gave a small exhalation. "I'm listening."

He leaned forward. "The Alliance is involved in a number of troubling projects, Shepard. Before her death, Lady Liara informed one of my lieutenants that you had somehow learned about the NOVENSILES project."

Shepard gave a sharp inhalation, then nodded. "Kyle left me details about it." She winced. "Shit. Those were on the omni-tool of my suit."

Harper nodded sadly. "I know. When they recovered the Normandy, David Anderson demanded to be a part of the recovery team. He found the remains of your armor and helmet in the ruins, and we believe the reason he had a mental collapse is due to what he found on said omni-tool. We know the AIS committed him and seized the omni-tool."

She sighed, and he continued."After, Commissars raided your home on Intei'sai, your offices, and interrogated several other people. There were no arrests – from what I gathered, Anderson deleted whatever he found, and interrogation did not seem to bring out any additional details. Sources I have within the AIS suggest that they were able to recover only bits of data – enough to let them know you knew about things you weren't cleared for."

She nodded. "Yeah. I was surprised your group didn't play a role in that shit."

He grimaced. "I find the goals of NOVENSILES understandable in the abstract, but ultimately self-defeating in execution. Humanity can stand upon its own feet without distorting itself with a mishmash of stolen genetics and sickening experiments. What would be left of us after NOVENSILES would no longer be human. But even if that had value, the concept of enslaving the minds of humanity to handful of nobles and business men strikes me as the worst sort of tyranny possible."

He sipped his drink. "I did not create Cerberus to subjugate the human spirit, but to protect it. I won't shy away from extreme methods to do that, but I draw the line at turning us into monsters in the name of survival. And once we did it, the people behind it seem to think it would be accepted as a done deal. I disagree. I think the asari and salarians would do to us what they did to the rachni, or the krogan."

Shepard nodded slowly, and he continued. "Unfortunately, NOVENSILES is not the worst thing the people in power are up to, Shepard."

She looked up in shock, pushing her hair out of her face. "Are you fucking shitting me? What in fuck could be worse than that?"

His voice was sardonic. "Do you really want to know?"

She paused. Did she? Didn't she have enough bullshit on her plate already? She pushed that thought aside. "Yeah, I do."

He nodded. "I discovered almost eight months ago that – and I do not know how – Richard Williams survived the carefully choreographed destruction I crafted in having you take out the Cerberus HQ. He altered his size slightly, and his face, hair, and eyes are different – but one cannot conceal certain things done to his body, and he is now passing as Richard Manswell."

He paused. "We lost six deep cover operatives obtaining a single image of what Richard was studying in a secured location deep in the Black Zone, and came up with this." He tapped his omni-tool, and a grainy 2-D image flashed up, of an ominous black pyramid with sloping, organic sides and hard, jagged lines of baleful red running down its length. Strange shapes like runes or letters decorated the base.

Shepard had seen these before – on Noveria, at Virmire. She'd seen the script in the images Garrus sent of the slaver marks on the Tho'ian thralls. "...that's a Reaper artifact."

He nodded grimly. "And the fool is studying it. It looks like they attempted precautions against indoctrination at some point, and for some time, but these have begun to fall by the wayside. Vigil is convinced that at the very least Williams is most likely indoctrinated by this point – and we have no idea if the rest of Earth's upper nobility may be exposed."

He exhaled. "Since there is a test to detect indoctrinated personnel, we do know Alliance High Command – and the President – are both not indoctrinated. Nor are several other high ranking nobles who have visited the Citadel in recent months. But it is a very disturbing find, and makes any attempt to trust the Alliance … doubtful."

Shepard thought about this for a long moment. "I don't see why. Just notify high command. Hell, send the image anomalously. You're a sneaky bastard, you could figure out all kinds of ways to let them know."

He smiled. "I could. But think of what you are suggesting. No one outside of a handful of the highest ranking leaders and military commanders of each Citadel race know about the Reapers. Sending it to the media will only result in it being dismissed as a crank. Sending it to the Citadel will make the asari and salarians suspect the Alliance is hiding Reaper technology from them. They might even see humanity as a threat."

He puffed on his cigarette, then scrubbed it out. "I also am not in possession of any hard proof that even Williams, much less anyone else, is indoctrinated. Hurling accusations at the High Lords of Sol will only make them lock down harder than they already are, and I can't exactly produce Vigil to back up what I'm saying. I've carefully sent a few messages to some Alliance people I trust – but all they can do is keep an eye out."

He shifted in his chair. "Bottom line, however, is that the Alliance – and the people really in charge – know you are aware of NOVENSILES. They may or may not be indoctrinated. Most importantly, no one knows you have been brought back to life, and any investigation into your body will reveal certain … techniques used. Techniques that will let them know that Cerberus was involved in your resurrection, even if you don't tell them that. Taken together, there's a ninety-seven percent chance if you go back to them empty-handed, they'll kill you and this time make very sure you are dead."

She exhaled. "And that changes if I join up with Team Torture and the rest of your goons how?"

He gave her a mirthless, thin smile. "Because you will have a chance to contact them before you are in their power, armed with blackmail that will be openly transmitted to the Council if you suddenly die in their custody. Because, if our partnership works, you'll have evidence to show the Broker killed you. That the Broker was involved, I suspect, in the assassination attempt on Windsor. Most of all, that the Broker is lying about the Reaper threat and is in league with them."

He smiled a bit wider. "NOVENSILES has no value if aliens know about it. The people behind it know that. They will abandon the project – right now, it hasn't even gotten off the ground, with only two prototype templates made, both … somewhat flawed in execution. I'm sure they'll come up with something else appalling, but that gives you time – us time – to remove the people who aren't acting in humanity's best interest and replace them."

She frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had to admit, that made a lot of sense. Not that she really trusted the Alliance anyway – having both Dragunov and Hazred basically admit to horrible shit and the intent to go right on doing horrible shit had broken a lot of her beliefs, and what she'd learned from Kyle's data had driven the point home. She'd just been too busy and distracted to face it.

"Fine. Fuck. What about the Council, then? I know their goddamned default answer to anything is no, followed by how I fucked something up, but I would think they would at least listen."

He sighed. "Perhaps they would. In the time you were being rebuilt, however, the galactic situation has changed. The quarians are now integrated into galactic society, and it has shifted the balance of power. The turian economy has stuttered, and in yet another example of how the asari-salarian bickering always has unintended fallout, this has kicked off a recession still being recovered from. The power blocks are now humans and quarians against the asari and salarians, and the turians are the wild card."

He finished his drink. "But that is not in our favor, sadly. Sparatus is the only Council member still pushing in any way to prepare now rather than later for the Reapers. He has become something of an outcast in Council votes because of it. The quarians want the geth exterminated, more colony worlds, and more market opportunities, while the salarians want the quarian fleet reduced to prevent them from flooding salarian markets, and so are undercutting quarian exports with inferior but cheaper goods. The asari are dealing with all-out cultural revolution, as another ten million asari fled the Republic to join the Alliance, and since then immigration has been heavily restricted, so much so that some asari are actually fleeing to join Aria."

He folded his arms. "The turians are distracted by … various uprisings. More than one. They're on the brink of another unification war, and Fedorian is losing the confidence of most of the turian people. The volus have begun buying up clans of vorcha from the krogan, breeding them and using them as a military force, to bolster their own bid for a council seat, even while they economically sabotage the elcor and their own bid for such."

Shepard stared at him. "...so, since I died, everyone in the fucking galaxy has become a goddamned idiot. Great."

He coughed, the sound one of mirth. "That is a fair way to put it, Shepard. In short, the Broker has convinced them the Reaper threat is now more than a century away. He has built some kind of massive detection array in the Shrike Abyssal, and the data from it would seem to indicate the Reapers are … hibernating. They've identified a mass of them - over a hundred and fifty at last count – but they are barely emitting any power."

Shepard frowned. "There's more of them than that. The vision – "

He nodded. "Vigil confirmed that. He won't give me the exact numbers...but he told me the Inusannon were active in more than one galaxy, and they personally confirmed the Reapers were as well. There are at least a thousand of them. Possibly... far more. Whatever game the Broker is playing, he's playing it well enough that no evidence I have can counter it. And as a result...the Council has long range plans for a military buildup, but it has slowed due to the economy."

He pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit it. "Right now, they're passing around various military spending bills to spur investment, but it isn't a coordinated effort. And not much of the technology gleaned from the Reaper, like self-healing metals, MHG weapons, or Reaper-based computer systems, has not entered even prototyping, much less general use."

Shepard closed her eyes. "Why the fuck did I nearly get killed showing them the fucking truth if they're going to ignore it?"

The Illusive Man sighed. "From what I saw, they were moving as rapidly as they could until the Broker started feeding them information saying the danger was a distant threat. I think, Shepard, that they listened. But once given evidence that the danger was not coming tomorrow...they acted like politicians are inclined to do."

He puffed at the cigarette. "I've made various attempts, using proxies, to change their viewpoints. I have not yet been successful. And given the cachet my organization acquired before I liberated it from the Alliance's control, I very strongly doubt they're going to listen to me."

He dumped his ashes, turning the edge of the fire on his cigarette around the rim of the ashtray idly. "I also have my doubts how much they would listen to you right now. The same problems with you running to the Alliance, given the source of your resurrection, apply to the Council as well. But more importantly, you can't go to them as a supplicant."

He smiled. "If you work with us, and we can prove the Broker was lying to them, it will raise your value – and the warnings you will present to them – to a new value. Once again, they will owe you a debt. Most importantly, Shepard, vindicating Sparatus may win you a staunch ally who doesn't play the backstabbing games of Tevos and Valern. They could always, after all, make up some kind of story about your death being fake. The Alliance would have little choice but to play along. Which would allow you, if we play our cards right, to give you back … some semblance of your former life."

The words rang hollow, and she exhaled. "Yeah. The part I don't want back." She bit her lip. She wouldn't let herself start crying again in front of this asshole. She angrily rubbed her eyes, and then compressed her lips into a thin line. "Let's say you've convinced me that running to either one of them is a bad idea. That doesn't mean I want to join you."

Harper nodded. "I can understand your hesitance. To you, Cerberus is a collection of monsters. And as you told me long ago, the fact that I was involved in Cerberus, and didn't stop their excesses, makes me , in your view, the worst kind of criminal."

She smiled thinly. "You seemed pretty confident I wouldn't get a chance to put a bullet in you at the time."

He nodded, and folded his hands in his lap. "And here I am. Nothing between me and you except cigarette smoke. You know at least some of what we've done in bringing you back. You could kill me right now."

She narrowed her eyes. "I doubt it. Either you have some sneaky way to stop it, or I wouldn't survive doing so."

He gave her a thin smile. "I'm sitting here – which, I assure you, is not without a certain level of trepidation – with no defenses, as I said, to make a point. I don't disavow what Cerberus did. It wasn't my idea, or by my instigation. I tried, where I could, to rein in some of the worst of it."

He stared at her. "I won't lie to your face and say I'm innocent, Shepard. I began Cerberus not as a terrorist organization, but a way to defend humanity. Our original goals, which we have now returned to, were to protect against economic sabotage, infiltration, and subversion of our government and intelligence systems."

He sighed. "Along the line I had to make … ugly calls. Decisions that got people killed. Decisions that ruined lives. And I became so good at doing so that the AIS wanted me to work for them directly. When I objected, my organization was … subverted, and I was put under the supervision of Rachel Florez and Richard Williams."

He held her gaze. "If I had refused to go along with what they wanted, they would have disposed of me. Dying in the name of righteousness never appealed to me."

She sneered. "So you just let them go along with their little butchering spree, and your hands were clean?"

He shook his head. "My hands aren't clean. Cerberus was my organization, my design. Even if it was taken in a direction I hated, I still was responsible. I could have fled later, with cash and hidden away from the galaxy. I chose instead to clean up my mess. My plan saved your life, there on Edolus. It allowed you to bring Rachel to justice."

Shepard looked away. "It almost got Liara killed. It almost got me killed."

His voice was cool. "And at the time, that was an acceptable price to pay."

She almost did it. She felt her fist curl. "Harper, the next time you call Liara a 'price' you're going to need some really good reconstructive surgery." She opened her eyes, glaring at him, and he didn't flinch.

"You said you wanted the truth, with no bullshit. You wanted no manipulation. So I am doing what you asked. I didn't say it would be something I wanted to do, but Florez and Williams were a danger to humanity at that point, and in my opinion Williams still is one. If the plan had failed, I was very willing to sacrifice myself if need be to bring them down."

She exhaled. "Fine. It's good you at least have enough of a fucking spine to take responsibility for that unbelievable bullshit we saw in those bases. How the fuck do you sleep at night?"

He gave her a smile that while wry, almost looked tired. "With sleeping pills and more Wild Turkey than my doctor feels is safe. I'm on my second liver. That isn't the real thing you want to ask. You want to know how you can trust someone like me, who could stand by for even a second as those events happened?"

He folded his arms. "Bluntly, I had a choice. Me protesting and dying would have left those two free to continue what they were up to. Going along with it gave me a chance to stop it. I regret it happened. Cerberus was never about experimenting on humans, or killing aliens merely for being alien. I don't trust the Council of Matriarchs, or the SIX, or the Unbroken Circle. That doesn't mean I hate asari or salarians. I will freely admit I'm not fond of turians, as Saren Arterius and his brother killed my best friends, my pregnant fiance, and the woman who I looked at like a mother – simply because they could."

She swallowed, watching rage flicker ever so briefly across his eyes and then fade. She knew that feeling now. She knew it well. For the merest split second, she could understand.

If she could get her hands on who killed Liara, would she stop at anything to kill the fucker? She didn't think so. She would like to imagine she wouldn't hurt the innocent or weak...but she didn't know.

Rather than speak, she merely shook her head.

His voice was cold and bleak. "You're not alone in losing everything that matters, Shepard. And as time goes on, it becomes much easier to simply not care."

She laughed weakly. "I tried that before Liara. It's a pretty empty, stupid way to live."

He shrugged. "And sometimes it is all that allows one to function. I have burdens on my shoulders that I have to discharge before I can grieve. And so do you."

Her nostrils flared as she looked back up. "I don't owe anybody shit. Especially not you, motherfucker."

He made a motion with his hand. "No, you certainly don't. Some of my people thought you would be grateful for being resurrected, but they don't know what it's like to lose everything. There are many days death would be almost refreshing for me. But that was not what I meant by my words. You don't owe me. You owe the person who murdered your wife."

She trembled. "...yeah. Oh, fuck yeah. I owe him, alright. The Broker."

Harper paused, then shifted in the chair again. "Before I go into more detail about that, I said I'd explain why you should work with us. Are you willing, for the moment, to accept that the Alliance is not a viable choice, nor the Council?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not willing to say you guys are worth trusting. The shit Saren did to you is bad. It's not an excuse for going full fucking Ardiente on a bunch of helpless aliens. Maybe you're right about staying alive to stop them down the line, but I don't have any proof that's how it all went down. For all I know, you were cool with it until they did something to piss you off, and double crossed them out of pique."

She smiled sadly a moment later. Until she'd done some studying, at Liara's and Jiong's prodding, she'd not even known what the word pique meant. She felt another bolt of pain in her mind and just concentrated on staring at Harper.

He shrugged. "And yet you haven't killed me. I think, Shepard, you don't trust me – but you understand, instinctively, that you need me anyway. And in return, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust."

He exhaled slowly. "The Alliance, until the latter part of your career, did not support you – and even then, the support you got was solely due to President Windsor blatantly smothering you with duties and rewards to both bind you to him as some kind of personal agent, and soothe your resentment of the Systems Alliance. You were not given the tools you needed to be effective, and you were never given the big picture. The Council was even worse – none of the vast resources of the Spectre offices were truly put at your disposal, such as Final Line soldiers, STG cells, or Council ships and funds."

She couldn't deny any of that, so just listened.

"I, on the other hand, am willing to give you not only whatever you require, but ensure you have more than enough information, discretion and authority to get the job done. I offer an entire financial network, capable of not only providing nearly limitless funding, but all manner of weapons, armor, vehicles, supplies, and technical equipment. I offer a large number of Alliance veterans – all people with absolutely no previous connections to Cerberus, and the access to verify that for yourself – to support your operations."

He continued, smiling as he did so. "I will give you a complete team of scientists and doctors to monitor your condition – some of the most talented specialists in the Alliance. You will have expert intelligence advice, strategic and tactical information from a very familiar general, and unlimited authority when it comes time to use and distribute these resources."

"The Alliance gave you one small ship, then a small number of ships. I will give you a fleet – complete with skilled, experienced commanders – and a flagship unmatched in the annals of history. I will give you soldiers and specialists who you have the final say in equipping and deploying. I will give you carte blance to craft your own approaches to problems, and while I reserve the right to put in my opinions and suggestions, once you decide on how to go after an objective, that is the way it will be done."

"I will give you a base of operations to strike out from, one where the people aboard – with a single exception – will answer to you, not me. If, at any point, you decide you can't or won't work with me, then the resources I hand over to you will be yours – they are not part of Cerberus."

"You will have unlimited access to my most powerful weapon – information. I once boasted to you that I'm the best information broker in the galaxy after the Shadow Broker himself. I maintain that has unchanged, and my network has widened. You will have the big picture view you need to make the choices that I put into your hands, with no vetting, no hidden agendas."

He folded his arms. "Most importantly, Shepard – I am confident I can give you a chance to not only take down the Broker but bring you the person directly responsible for the murder of Liara T'Soni, Garrus Vakarian, Aethyta Vasir, and Telanya Nasan."

She gritted her teeth. "And the price?"

He held out a single hand. "That you work with me, Shepard. That you help me stop the Collectors from taking any more humans. That you help me fight the Broker, to unveil his lies. That you aid me in finding a way to expose the threat of the Reapers, before it is too late. And ultimately, that you help me bring to justice the people who are going to eventually bring the Alliance to harm."

She stared at his outstretched hand. "If you lie to me, or double cross me even once – no matter why, no matter the justification – I am going to kill you. Are we clear?"

He nodded, and she shook her head. "Jesus fuck, I must be crazy." She shook his hand, and he smiled widely and stood.

"In that case, I have the first part of your payment ready. The person who killed your friends and wife was Tetrimus Rakora, the Hand of the Broker." He exhaled. "There is a video. Of him doing it. If you require proof."

She quailed inside, even as for some reason she stood. "God...I don't want to look at that." She glanced down. "But show me anyway."

O-TWCD-O

Shepard had a name for her hate now. Tetrimus.

She paused the armor-cam video, wiping her eyes angrily with her sleeve, and exhaled shakily.

She glanced around the room she was in as she tried for what felt like the hundredth time to pull her shit together. Like everything else in the small base, it was clean, modern, utilitarian and soulless. The room was maybe fifteen by fifteen, with a comfortable bed, a small bathroom, a comfy chair in front of the data terminal and haptic screen, a wide armaglass window looking out onto the seafloor, lit by lights from somewhere above.

The room was comfortable and quiet. After she'd agreed to work with Harper, he'd lead her out of the room, into another, wider corridor lined with underwater windows. He'd walked her personally to this very room, and told her the video was on the data terminal at the small desk inside.

He said someone would be by to talk to her later, and said she probably needed to rest and think about what they discussed. She'd agreed to that much. And had sat, and watched. Watched as her brave friends and the Cerberus people had fought so hard for her – bringing down that giant salarian, dozens of lethal looking Broker soldiers.

Watched them defeat P., who had caused this mess in the first place by looting her body like some kind of fucking relic.

Watched their relief when they though they had won. Their shock when the black-cloaked figure appeared.

She watched them fight, watched them lose, and watched them die.

Watched her wife die.

Watched her friends die.

Watched them be killed by a laughing, mocking Tetrimus, as he literally killed them the way she used to go through slavers. The only one who even wounded Tetrimus at all was Aethyta, and she was probably crushed to paste doing it.

She'd broken down crying, over and over, what felt like a dozen times. And she watched to the end, and again.

She'd watched the video of her friends dying three times and didn't know why she'd asked to see it in the first place. The look in Liara's eyes as she, Telanya and the slab of metal Tetrimus had cut with his biotic beam was haunting.

Liara had been smiling.

Shepard hung her head, letting herself slump in the chair. Despair and anger were battling back and forth across her head, her heart.

She let out another long breath, staring at her hands. The facts remained. Her love was dead. And someone was going to pay. There would be blood, and screaming, and begging, and then silence. Shepard was going to make the Broker die in slow fucking agony.

And Tetrimus? She was already thinking about how long a turian could live with all his plates pulled away from his body. She didn't give a shit how strong he was, or how he'd never been stopped. She was going tear the remaining mandible he had right off his face, shove it up his ass, and then beat him to death with his own fucking severed limbs.

And then she was going to let herself get really, really mad.

The fucker had just … butchered the entire team like they were children. She was sorry to know poor Aethyta had to see Liara die before she bought it too. She was sorry Garrus had to watch Telanya die.

Sorry, however, wasn't going to fix shit. She angrily cut the video off, then buried her face in her hands, and then screamed, and kept screaming.

A second later she had driven her fist through the data console, straight into the metallic desk. She screamed again and flung her arm, tearing it free of the metal. She punched the wall and it buckled around her fist, and then she hit it again, and again, until smears of blood stained the crumpled metal.

She sank to her knees, the pain in her hand, her arm barely even registering, letting herself go. She couldn't stop crying, clutching at her fake heart in her fake chest.

She wasn't supposed to be alone again. Liara had promised. She'd promised. And now she was gone. It wasn't fucking fair.

Hadn't she done what she was told? She'd done it all, done everything right. Everything! She'd followed her fucking orders. She'd chased down lunatics. She'd risked her own life, the life of the people who reached out to her and supported her.

She'd gotten Alenko and Cole killed. She'd gotten her marines killed, her people blown out of space. Pressly in a lift chair. And for what? Why would she be given a glimpse of being happy, just to be thrown into fucking misery all over again, worse than before?

She didn't know how long she knelt there, but she realized at some point her hand had stopped bleeding, the artificial flesh slowly kneading together on its own. She knew something smelled sweet, like rose petals, and she felt tired. She didn't know how long she was there for, but she knew at some point someone came in and lifted her up, guiding her to the bed, and laying her down on it.

Something light and warm settled over her, and she wiped at her eyes. A gentle, elegant female voice spoke. "Just...rest. Please."

And Shepard did.

O-TWCD-O

Miranda Lawson, as a rule, rarely let herself get angry. She was often irritated. It was rather simple to draw her disdain. And exasperation, Jacob had once told her, was her default state it seemed.

But true anger? Rare.

Anger at the Illusive Man, who'd raised her from a frightened girl? Who had taught her everything she knew, encouraged her to master whatever she fancied? Who had named her his heir, who she secretly wished saw her as more than just a little child?

Anger at him was, until now, something she had never imagined.

She slammed the door open into the hangar bay, where he stood, his face immobile and emotionless, talking with Trellani and Chambers. She glared hard at both of them, and then at him. "We need to talk now, Mr. Harper."

He arched an eyebrow at the hardness of her tone, the heat in it, and nodded. "Doctor Chambers, see to it that Shepard is stable and comfortable. When she wakes up, let me know." He turned to face Miranda, who stomped into the nearby conference room.

When he got inside he shut the door after himself, and gave her a curious look. "You are not usually this agitated, Miranda."

She took a deep breath. "There was no need to inflict that on her, sir. She just completely came apart in her rooms and I had to gas her to get her to stop punching the wall before she knocked a hole in it. Why would you do that?"

The Illusive Man sighed, sitting down in one of the comfortable chairs in the room. "Miranda, I know you have a certain level of investment in this project."

She narrowed her eyes. "Investment? I spent the past two years going over every bit of Shepard's life, her body, her mind. I saw her dreams and worries. We know what she went through as a child, as a teen. The disgusting mess Florez sent her stumbling through. There's only so much mental damage a person can take before they break completely, sir, and she was almost there before she died!"

She shook her head. "Why show her that video?"

Harper gave her a hard look. "Because it had to be done. I won't pretend that I'm not manipulating her, Miranda. I just won't lie to her or tell her how she's being manipulated. You heard the way the conversation was going. She agreed, but she didn't really want to. She was reluctant, and she was more upset and conflicted than … committed. Chambers told me that Shepard was still in a state of shock, and that if she didn't move beyond that anything she agreed to now might not be true later."

He glanced away. "In a way, you did your job too well. She's not an emotionless thing. Whatever armor she had, whatever control she'd built up, is no longer working for her. And as Chambers pointed out to us, the longer she internalizes it and doesn't face the truth, the longer she'll put off making any real choices or decisions about her life."

Miranda gritted her teeth. "I thought we wanted this done right, not fast. She couldn't even be given a day to grieve without being hit in the face with the murder of her wife? Is that what that hack Chambers told you to do?"

Jack Harper smiled. "You never did like Kelly, because she didn't fall into a neat little box. She challenged you, made you feel as if you weren't in control. That was on purpose, Miranda – you needed someone to act as a foil, to make you question yourself."

He pulled his cigarettes out of his jacket, lighting one with his ever-present lighter. "Despite seeing Shepard in a clinical light for two years, you emphasize with her. That's good."

His voice hardened. "But let's not forget the goal of Project Revenant. I can't have Shepard making the choice to walk away from us. I need her committed and feeling that we're the only option that works. And I took a shot at making her really realize that her old life was gone, and we were her only choice if she wanted revenge."

She had never felt such an urge to punch someone in the face in her entire life. "With all due respect, sir, I think this was a mistake. It hurt her. When she's still trying to deal with the fact that she was dead and is now alive, that her entire life as she knows it is gone. I thought I was going to have control over how we proceeded in this – that is what you told me."

She saw something – she couldn't figure out the emotion – flicker over his face, before he nodded. "And you're right, Miranda. I did say that. I suppose, from your point of view, it looks as if I went over your head." He puffed on the cigarette, and leaned back in the chair a bit more. "But I make the calls as I see them – with the data I have at hand. I picked you to lead this operation because you can. I picked Chambers to handle the psychology because you haven't shown that you are very deft at it."

His voice gentled. "I don't want to pick at wounds you are all too familiar with, Miranda. You're very important to me. But we both know that some elements of human emotion seem to … elude you at times. It's why I haven't said anything about your little blow-up with Mr. Taylor. I saw it as a positive step, while it lasted."

She felt her face heat with embarrassment, and that only made her angrier. "And what does, exactly, that have to do with this?"

He inclined his head. "Chamber's assessment was based on fact, psychological assessment, and the needs of Cerberus. Yours, I worry, is based on empathy, jealousy, and outrage at having your judgment overruled. I trust you, and I trust that you will always perform to your best ability – but this operation can't afford to be sentimental. The needs of Cerberus come first."

Miranda found herself feeling disappointment. "I thought you, of all people, would at least have the decency to give her time to grieve, after your stories of how you never got that chance. I see I was wrong."

He exhaled. "She's grieving now, Miranda." His voice was suddenly tired. "If you are worried about her, the room I put her in has an observational window on level two. If that's all, I need to consult with Doctor Wilson on what medical equipment will be needed aboard her new ship."

Miranda whirled on her heel and left, slamming the conference room door behind her. Harper stared at the door for a long second, before sighing and putting out his cigarette in disgust.

"There are times I'm glad you never had to see the monster I've become, Eva."

O-TWCD-O

Shepard awoke, groggy. For a split second she thought she'd been having some kind of horrible dream, until she sat up and recognized her surroundings, the wrecked desk, the smashed terminal.

She felt...empty. Cold. Worn out and thin, like an old beaten up rug, tossed out in the rain and then flung over something to dry out. Her fake eyes were fine, but her eye-sockets were sore.

She stood up, noticing someone had put a blanket over her, and then stared at the wall. She shuddered when she realized she'd nearly punched a large dent into a solid steel wall a good five inches deep.

As she stared, there was a hesitant knock on the door. She glanced at it. "Come in."

The doorway opened, revealing a dark-haired, attractive woman in a thin black bodysuit under some kind of stylized lab coat. She was holding a pile of clothing, topped by a small black case. Deep blue eyes met her own and the woman stepped into the room, setting the items on the table by the doorway.

"Good morning, Shepard. I'm Miranda Lawson. I'm the leader and head researcher of Project Revenant, the process that returned you to life."

Shepard stared at her a moment before sighing. "You'll forgive me for not hugging you in appreciation."

The woman's eyes flickered to gaze at the floor as she nodded. "Yes. I understand completely. I brought you fresh clothing – and a makeup kit. I don't know if you are hungry or not, but there is breakfast set up in the hangar bay if you are interested."

Shepard arched an eyebrow."Oh, I still need to eat?"

Miranda's perfect lips quirked into a small smile. "Yes, Shepard. We didn't make you inhuman, no matter how strange things might feel at first. You still need to eat, drink, and perform other bodily functions." The woman faltered. "Although...we had to make a few alterations here and there. Certain hormonal adjustments weren't fully possible to implement, and some things have changed. You won't experience a period, for example. According to your records, that was a … delicate issue."

Shepard exhaled. "Having a bunch of assholes use broomsticks on you for fun when you're going through puberty doesn't do a lot of good, no. I won't miss that." She grimaced. "I appreciate the clothes. I... I'm not really hungry, though."

Miranda nodded. "I wasn't sure, but I didn't want to assume." She paused. "I cannot know what this must be like for you. I can say that the entire team that worked on bringing you back is also dedicated to maintaining your health. All of the team leads will be available to you at any time if you have any medical issues, and I will always be here if you need anything at all."

Shepard frowned. "Trellani said there would be medical complications, but didn't go into details."

Miranda folded her arms under her breasts, and gave a thin sort of smile. "I'm afraid so. We used the best technology there was – or invented a great deal of it – and Vigil was helpful in the process, but some of the things we had to do were more akin to patch jobs than true healing, and … well, you died. The body was never designed to be turned back on after that point, and a large part of the cyberware in you is simply repairing what will wear out."

Lawson made a gesture at her own stomach. "You have been given substantial bodily protection, and will be given very heavy armor, because if you take serious wounds to your internal organs or subsystems, you have a very low threshold for shock. The sort of wounds you took before your death would kill you now, simply by failing systems."

Shepard grimaced. "Wonderful."

Miranda straightened, her mane of black hair tumbling back as she tossed her head. "We won't let that happen. I may not be perfect, but I will do my very best to make your life as comfortable as possible."

She nodded, then hesitated. "Last night, that was you that got me into bed, wasn't it?"

Miranda nodded slowly. "Yes. I .. I want to apologize for what you were shown. I vehemently disagreed with the decision, and … while I've been a member of Cerberus for years and never had any fundamental disagreements with the Illusive Man prior to this, I was very angry and appalled at you having to see that."

Shepard didn't know exactly how to take that. On the one hand, lifer Cerberus goon by her own words – she didn't look that old, and 'many years' meant she was probably in this most of her life. On the other hand...

"I understand why he did it, Lawson. I asked for it, and he probably wanted to knock into my head that I can't hate him when I've got a turian to fucking kill. But...it hurt, yeah."

She turned to the pile of clothes, then tilted her head at Lawson. "Still...even if you are Cerberus...thanks. For .. checking on me. I kinda fucked up your room here, but ..."

Miranda found herself trying very hard not to smile. "This base is very small. Only a few rooms, a conference room, and a hangar bay. It was only constructed to leave no trace of our operations should you decide to part ways with us and return to Alliance or Citadel space. Now that you are not, we'll be leaving here soon and heading to your more permanent base of operations. This place will be blown up once we're gone."

Shepard realized this set-up wasn't cheap – hardwood flooring was hard to find and ship clear across space, and everything else looked elegant and expensive, if too white and soulless for her taste. Cerberus must really have the kind of money they could afford to throw away.

"...alright. What do I do now?"

Miranda smiled. "There's a small shower in the bathroom area of your room here. Once you have changed clothes, please follow the red line in the hallways past the heavy double doors and you will reach the hangar bay. Keep your omni-tool with you, as the doors are otherwise locked."

Miranda folded her hands behind her back. "Once you are at the hangar bay – and assuming that Joker is done eating by then, the pig – we will be departing."

Shepard was surprised by the exasperated fondness in Miranda's tone. "Joker is here?"

Miranda sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. Exasperating man."

Shepard found herself with a faint smile. "Like I told someone else, Lawson, he grows on you. Much like a fungus."

O-TWCD-O

Shepard was able to shower with only one more sobbing breakdown, when she recalled the shower Liara and she had shared after their first bond on the Normandy. Tears never showed up much in the shower, and by the time she was feeling strong enough to face whatever was outside her room, she had dressed.

The clothing they gave her was similar to the first outfit – loose, soft pants and a blousy top that didn't hug her figure. Someone had a good idea that she didn't like revealing, tight fitting clothing, and that spoke volumes of just how much information they had on her.

The makeup – another hint – was the same way. It was nothing more than a very simple foundation and colorless lip gloss, nothing fancy and nothing scented. A plain black hair scrunchy was in the case, and she put her hair into a ponytail with the scrunchy instead of using the ties she'd gotten in the first room.

Miranda had brought her fresh underclothes – again with the boxers and sports bra – and socks, but left the soft black slippers. Shepard grimaced when she saw the soles of the slippers had Cerberus logos on them.

"At least they don't have their goddamned logo splattered all over the place like the Alliance likes to do."

She got to her feet, grabbing her sketchbook and the holoframe with Liara's picture, and then took a breath and walked down the corridor. A single red haptic guideline floated serenely above the pale gray decking, and she followed it through a heavy airlock door.

The hallway beyond was like the others, only the windows now had delicately etched Cerberus logos on them.

"Ah, fuck. Knew it wouldn't last."

She walked through another set of doors – passing what looked like a conference room of some kind – and into a large hangar bay. A single small Alliance shuttle sat on one docking pad, while a much larger pinnace – batarian by the looks of it, although it had clearly been modified – sat on the other.

A pair of folding tables were up against the far wall of the docking bay, covered with black table cloths bearing a white Cerberus logo and covered in what looked like take out food. A single heavyset black man in a body-hugging black body suit with thin plates of armor sat at one table, and a very familiar slender human with a scraggly beard and a similar bodysuit, minus the armor but plus silvery braces on his legs and thinner ones on his arms ate at the other table.

She shook her head. "Joker."

Jeff Moreau put down the cheap plastic fork, getting to his feet and facing her. He looked much the same, except for the fact that his jaw had a slight indentation on the left side, marred by scar tissue of some kind. "Long time no see, Shepard."

She folded her arms, taking a deep breath. "Yeah." She glanced at the outfit he wore, with its Cerberus insignia, and the hat with yet another one on it. He also wore some kind of black and red scarf of some kind around his neck. "Nice scarf."

His eyes flickered. "It's the same pattern as Tali's new reik, a pattern we picked. And it covers up the scars where her dad did his best to pull my windpipe out."

She blinked, then grimaced. "Tali told me about that, but not all the details. I'm glad you're okay."

He shrugged, picking up a napkin from the table and wiping his mouth. "He got his. I guarantee he's never going to walk any better than I do after Tali shot him point blank. And it's old news." He swallowed. "I'm... I know this sounds lame, but I'm sorry. If I could have gotten the ship to the dock faster, maybe I could have shot that Tetrimus fucker."

She shook her head. "I...I saw the video, Joker. And … there's …" She exhaled. "Like I told Tali. Don't blame yourself for this. I know who killed her, and Garrus, and Telanya, and Aethyta. And when I catch him, what we did to Saren is going to look like a fucking love tap. I'm going to mount his fucking skull in my toilet and shit on it every night."

Joker gave her a slightly hesitant grin. "Good to see you haven't changed much. You get any details about the ship?"

She tilted her head, and Tali walked up from the side as she did. "No, she hasn't, Jeff. Stop it. We'll show her when we get to the base."

Joker sighed. "Fine, ruin my fun." He half turned. "You about done eating, Jacob?"

The big man stood up, brushing crumbs from his uniform. "Yeah, I guess I am now." The man walked up, his features blunt and fairly plain, his comic-book muscularity and size apparent as he got closer. "Jacob Taylor, security. Former Alliance, got mustered out after the Battle of Port Hanshan."

She nodded coolly. "I see. What do you do as security exactly, Mr. Taylor?"

He folded his massive arms. "Mostly run herd on a buncha mechs and a few security people. I was second in command of security at the base where we brought you back. Going forward, I'll be attached to your staff to help you work with Cerberus's few military assets, as a weapons tech and your armorer, and as a soldier under your command, ma'am."

She nodded again. "You were Alliance?"

He smiled. "I was a marine captain in charge of armor assets under General von Grath, eleven years of service. Qualified in armory maintenance. Mother was in the AIS, and Father was a Corsair captain. Big fan of your work against slavers."

She sighed. "And why are you working with Cerberus, Captain Taylor?"

He met her gaze squarely. "I'm not much for bullshit, ma'am, and I hear you aren't either. So I'll give it to you straight. Cerberus has done a lot of things I don't agree with, and certainly has a checkered past. As long as the Illusive Man plays straight with me, I'll do the same – when he stops, I stop working for them."

Shepard smiled. "And you think they'll let you walk away?"

He gave a shrug, unfolding his arms. "I think that matters less than making the choice not to support something I can't believe in, ma'am. So far, I haven't seen anything I'm ashamed of being a part of. And Cerberus gets things done. No red tape. No Admiralty review. Job needs done, we get it done and go home. No bullshit about not enough resources, or making us buy our own guns either."

She nodded. "And the people? You'll understand I'm not a real fan of their work, given what I found on Edolus."

He nodded. "I can see that, and honestly? I was brought in, like I said, after that point. I'm not saying I couldn't be snowed...but the people I've worked with, for the most part, are solid. Some of the docs involved in bringing you back were a bit ruthless in going through clones, but those didn't have a brain hooked up and they didn't experiment on anybody else but you."

She gave a small nod at that, glancing at Joker. "And you, Joker? Before I join this thing, any reservations you have?"

Joker shrugged. "TIM is a dick. A massive, massive dick. I just want to get that out there. But he patched me and Tali up, gave us a place to live, made sure we didn't starve, and let me fly. He listened to us, brought on another quarian lady and her boyfriend, and …" He shrugged. "I saw and heard what went down at Edolus, even if I wasn't down there personally. But nothing I've seen is anything like that, and I've been to a lot of their bases."

She folded her arms. "And how big are they?"

Joker made a face. "Big enough that it scares the shit out of me. Grown like a weed in the past year. TIM has big money."

She tilted her head. "TIM?"

Taylor gave a wry smile. "Short for the Illusive Man. He hates the name, it's a good way to get him to glare at you if you like pissing him off."

She felt her lips twitch into a smile. "TIM it is." She exhaled. "Alright, then. I guess...I'm ready to go."

Taylor nodded. "Everyone else is onboard, I have to set a few things up in the security center, and I'll leave in the other shuttle."

She glanced at the Alliance markings on said shuttle. "I guess if I said I didn't want to work with you, I would have left on that?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She exhaled. "Figured he would have shot me and started over if I said no."

Taylor gave her a serious look. "Ma'am...when you came in, there wasn't much left of you. Meat, and not much of that, and a lot of tubes and equipment. I haven't got the slightest idea how in hell they did what they did to bring you back, but more than once they nearly lost you and scrubbed the project. There's no 'do overs' with this – you die again, we don't have another model we can trot out."

Shepard rolled her shoulders. "Well, let's get this show on the road, then. Joker, after you."

He rolled his eyes. "Follow me."

Taylor watched them head into the pinnace, then tapped his earpiece. "They're aboard, sir."

The voice of Randal Ezno was hard as usual. "Good. Go ahead and set the self-destruct. The backup shuttle is prepped – the access doors in the conference room are open now. Flood the base before detonation."

Jacob spoke again. "Yes, sir. Just to ask, why the backup shuttle? Why not take the Alliance bird we have here in the bay, like I was told to tell her?"

Ezno's voice was still cold, but held a note of amusement. "Because it's code-locked to head to go only to Commissar Chisholm's patrol group in Bekenstein,and I doubt you want to visit the Black Hats. Get moving. Ezno out."

Taylor clicked off, moving towards the security center. "Could be worse", he said to himself, as the pinnace lifted up and began moving towards the hangar lock doors to allow it to move into the ocean outside. "Half expected them to run it into the nearest star."