This chapter is a little short, so I apologize. However, the next chapter is more that double the length of this one; I hope that will make everyone happy. Thank you to everyone who has favorited and followed this story! Don't forget to send me a review; I'd love to know what you guys are thinking! Also, please note that I have designated the passing of time or a switch in perspective with "XXX". If I change perspective, the name of the new narrator will be underneath and underlined. I found the large line drawn across the whole page was obnoxious.

She's Alive

Miranda

The shuttle ride to the Cerberus station had hardly been illuminating. I asked Shepard the basic questions to check her memory, but I already knew they would be intact. She had already directly referenced Akuze and its relationship to Cerberus, and Shepard recalled all the recent events right up to the destruction of the Normandy. I shuddered when she started talking about being spaced. I couldn't imagine falling through nothing, suffocating and then being burned alive in the atmosphere of a planet. I had seen the parts of Shepard's body that had come to us; I knew the hunk of flesh that barely deserved to be called a body, but it was still shocking to hear about the experience from her mouth. Still, Shepard seemed rather nonplussed telling her horrific story and looked even less interested when we filled her in on some of the changes that had happened since her death. The only reaction I ever saw cross her face was from me telling her that it had taken two years to rebuild her. Her eyebrows had drawn down and I could see her mind trying to make sense of that, trying to understand what that meant for her right now.

The whole time I obsessed over her face, her body; I looked for signs that she was overly fatigued or had been injured without telling us. I saw nothing. Shepard sat calmly in her seat. But every emotion she expressed, I wondered if it was real. Was this truly Commander Shepard? I didn't worry that I had brought back a clone or anything. I had personally watched every part of her be reconstructed from original pieces. Her brain had cellular damage, but was more intact than we had first believed possible. My worry was that when we rehabilitated her brain…what if we had hit something we weren't supposed to? Scans had shown full functionality; Shepard was as smart as ever. However, we still didn't understand how the personality presented physically within the brain, and a small mistake could have altered her personality irrevocably. I would not allow myself be a failure.

After the shuttle ride, Shepard went straight to talk to the Illusive Man. I had already been given a mission brief about Freedom's Progress; the Illusive Man was certain Shepard couldn't refuse the request to investigate human colony attacks. I couldn't hear every word, but I could hear Shepard raise her voice. She was definitely angry. I could already imagine the fire that had entered those green eyes and the snarl that would be drawn across her face. Shepard had been beautiful before, in sleep, but was captivating now that I could see emotions move across the surface of her skin. However, I found the woman's idealism to be irritating. All my research had shown a dedication towards duty and honor; she was Alliance through and through. What would the commander do without the uniform? Cerberus had spent a fortune on her, but I had no doubt Shepard would care nothing about that and see nothing but a terrorist organization that had destroyed her life. I had tried to warn the Illusive Man; he hadn't listened to me. I looked up quickly as Shepard walked heavily back into the room.

"Miranda," Shepard stated. I locked eyes with her, raising a single eyebrow. It hadn't been a question and therefore I deemed a response to be unnecessary, but the commander was a woman used to soldiers coming to attention in her presence. I watched the line of her mouth move into what was clearly a look of contempt, but her attitude did little to move me. I was still occupied with watching my reconstructed doll come to life.

"I suppose I have you to thank for my life," Shepard said. The woman sounded neither happy nor grateful, and I found her admission intensely amusing. I kept my eyebrow raised and moved into my traditional pose, a hand on a cocked hip.

"In more ways than you'll ever know, Commander. Did you need something in particular from me?" I said. I watched the irritation flicker across her face at the debt between us as well as to the casual dismissal I had made of her. I felt no actual obligations between us; the debt to be repaid was so obviously between Shepard and the Illusive Man. It was money from Cerberus that had kept the Lazarus Project running, and I had been compensated for every second I had spent aboard that station. The commander must have realized this too, and she didn't appreciate being needled.

"Are you always this bitchy, Miranda, or is it something in particular with me?" Shepard asked. She stepped closer to me, and I quickly clasped my hands behind my back to hide the nervous shaking that suddenly possessed them, a reaction to the dislike I could feel rolling off her body. I lifted my chin and matched her glare; I would not show weakness to this woman.

"Cerberus spent an enormous amount bringing you back, Shepard. It'll take time before we find out if that makes you an asset or a liability. I have no doubt of your physical capabilities; I have watched every vid of you in action that was available and reconstructed your body myself. Once you're over the shock of moving it on your own for the first time in two years, I imagine you'll be as formidable in combat as before, if not better," I said, allowing a small smirk of pride in my work. "However, I find your ideas to be dangerous, as well as your motivations. I believe in what Cerberus stands for, and you threaten that whether you know it or not. You were an Alliance soldier, Shepard, and you breathed by their word. But they won't want you back now, not when your blood was paid for by Cerberus. I can't help but wonder how that will affect your actions. I wonder: will you put aside your personal pride to save the innocent colonists that your precious Alliance ignores?"

I had read her like a book, and Shepard hated it. Her face pulled down in a frown as she considered me. "I can do what needs to be done, Miranda. If what the Illusive Man tells me is true, and the Alliance really won't act, I will fight the Collectors for those colonists. But I will never trust Cerberus, or its operatives," Shepard said pointedly. I was surprised at the resignation in her answer. I had expected her to fight against this mission, and demand to be returned to the Alliance immediately. But the woman showed logic and thought in her answer. It was…different, for a soldier.

I gave her a bright smile that instantly made her wary. "Understood, Commander," I said. I was going to enjoy this back and forth of ours.

XXX

Liara

The omni-tool on my bedside table beeped and vibrated itself off the table. I groaned, wondering who would be messaging my private frequency at such an hour. There was no light coming from the windows, so I knew it was nowhere near close to morning. I threw the covers off my body, instantly regretting their loss as the cold air hit me and my feet hit the tile. I crouched on the floor, feeling with my hands to find my overeager omni-tool. I made a mental note to tone down the vibration settings so it would at least stay on the nightstand. I sat on my bed, tiredly trying to hit the right buttons even when my eyes were trying to go back to sleep. Finally, I managed to open my messages and find the new one. Of course it was from Miranda Lawson. The woman excelled at irritating me. When I selected the message and opened it, I nearly threw the omni-tool against the wall.

The message opened an attachment, a picture. There was a beautiful woman sitting on a bench in a shuttle. She had brilliant red hair and her green eyes sparkled, looking directly at the picture taker. Her elbows pressed into her thighs and her chin rested on her interlaced fingers, a posture I recognized intimately. The N7 logo was easily visible past her arm. It couldn't be. The hair, her eyes…but the face was right. My beautiful Shepard. The message under the picture held two simple words: She's alive.