My deepest apologies for how long this took. I have many excuses that I doubt anyone is actually interested in, however, this chapter is at least very long. Hope you guys like it!

Ch. 8

Team Building

Miranda

I found myself awake even before the alarm went off, a deserved break for the clock that was biotically shot across the room every time it angered me in the morning. Naturally, I was already on my second one, and even it had a crack in the display from yesterday's encounter. I mused that I might have to start charging for the dumb machines out of my pay if I went through too many, not that Cerberus couldn't afford to support my daily clock abuse. The only number still legible around the crack told me it was some time after seven in the morning; our first training session in the cargo hold with Shepard wasn't until nine, so I snuggled down into my covers once more to relish the moment of peace. We were en route to the Citadel, meaning a few days of minimal responsibilities, and I felt the contentment of a weekend morning. I imagined Saturday morning sunshine streaming around the window curtains to wake me amid the chirps of various birds. Scratch the birds, but keep the sunshine, and it would be perfect.

I groaned into my pillow as the door to my cabin rushed open and a fully armored Shepard trod in, bringing with her the harsh sounds of reality. She glanced around the room before locating me in my bed and quickly moved to tower over me. I quickly found myself thinking I needed to remove her authorization to my door as her presence intruded into my space.

"Lawson, why in the world are you still in bed?" she asked, bewildered and impatient, her fingers tapping against the armor on her thigh.

"We don't have a mission for the next three days Shepard, and your appointment to shoot at me isn't until nine. Heaven forbid I sleep in a little," I grumbled, angrily trying to block out the lights that came on with her entrance with my blanket.

"I wouldn't call it shooting at you. In theory, I should be training to shoot with you," Shepard replied with a smirk that I couldn't see but knew was there. Her light tone irritated me even further. "Besides, I'm here for a reason. I finished reading over the mission reports you sent me. I made a few changes that you can look over, but otherwise I'm fine with you sending them off."

She waggled the datapad she held in her hand before tossing it on the bed next to me, but continued to stand next to the bed expectantly even when I tried to turn away and go back to my peaceful moment. I had to suppress the rising agitation in my chest that wanted me to order her out, but I wasn't the superior here. I counted in my head, calming down and reminding myself that Shepard was the woman that I had worked two years to bring back. Though, at the moment, I couldn't remember why. I heard her shuffle her feet in agitation before speaking up again, "Anyway, once you're up, I thought we could start a scheduled group breakfast. Build a sense of comradery and all that, especially once we start picking up more people."

I narrowed my eyes at her, peeking out from under the blanket I had pulled up to my face as I still trying to shake off the fog of waking. "To build camaraderie, one must first actually like the other people, Shepard," I said and tried to press back into the pillows.

"Some people might call that rude, Lawson," Shepard chuckled lightly, mistakenly thinking I had meant my comment for her instead of myself. "Besides, my previous crew was all Alliance, and they were already committed to each other. By my eye, this crew needs more work," Shepard rolled off. "So…up and at 'em, Lawson! I need the XO present for all the lovely team building nonsense."

God, Shepard actually seemed excited at the future misery promised by small talk and awkward silences. Perhaps she was just excited because she was going to make me do most of the work. I looked up at the half smirk on her face and decided, yes, that was probably the case. She was about to be sadly disappointed if she expected the crew members to lighten up because of my presence in the mess; actually, I would probably make it more awkward. Most of my subordinates were afraid of me. Granted, I did nothing to encourage anything else. They were underlings, not friends.

I rolled my head to the side to see Shepard was still standing next to the bed, and obviously not going to leave until I showed her I was getting out of the bed. Her fingers were no longer tapping at least, but she was coldly glaring at me, tense with her arms crossed. I hadn't been treated like this since I was a child and my nanny was getting me up for my daily tutoring session. At least the nannies had usually been gentle, unlike the bundle of muscle and armor chattering loudly while staring a hole in my head. Shouldn't an Alliance commander have learned some...propriety along the way? I doubted she treated her soldiers like this. I sighed, resigning myself to my fate, before throwing back the covers and wincing as the cold air hit me. I felt a tingle of pleasure when a slight flush crossed Shepard's face and she quickly turned around.

"Nice pajamas, Lawson," She mumbled. Calling them pajamas was being generous: I slept only in a bra and underwear.

"I'll, uh, leave you to get dressed," Shepard stuttered as I slid out of bed, wincing again when my bare feet touched metal. I grabbed my robe from the back of a chair, raising an eyebrow at Shepard who was still glued in place, eyes averted. Once I was covered, Shepard managed to snap back into herself. "Breakfast will be served promptly at 0800. I'll see you there." She turned crisply on her heel before walking out.

I resisted the urge to crawl back under the covers for another five minutes, but I was already out of the bed so I trudged over to the shower and turned it on. A quick twist of the still shiny knobs had the water on full force and hot, the sting of the shower pulling me gently to full awareness. I ran through my agenda for the day in my head, allowing a flicker of displeasure for the forced socialization I was soon to endure before quickly filing it away to assume my professional demeanor. The events of the previous night managed to slink into my thoughts as well, and the dread in my stomach that I had battled for hours the night before came slowly trickling back.

It had turned out that Jacob's interest in talking to me last night hadn't been simply to complain about some primadonna drama, like I had assumed. Instead he had brought forward real concerns about Shepard during the mission on Omega. That apartment that I had come to, the one with the couple that had so shaken me, had been in the path of the main ground team as well. Jacob told me how they had arrived at the apartment at much the same time as the mercenary thugs, but Shepard ordered them to continue on and bypass the apartment, using the civilians' deaths as a distraction to move in front of that group of guns.

"Miranda, she didn't even hesitate for a moment. It was like she didn't even care about them. I don't understand what happened," Jacob had choked out while I tried to look impassive behind my desk. "One moment she was fine, acting like the caring soldier I had seen in all the vids, but, after she sent you away, she started getting quieter, broody. She just looked angry, and I couldn't tell why."

I had leaned forward, concerned. "After I left? Was she angry with me? She's the one who sent me off!" I replied, outraged.

"No," Jacob said shaking his head. "I don't think that was it. I don't know. Suddenly, she was just...mad."

"Look, it's probably nothing. Taking advantage of an available distraction is a sound tactic. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," I said, trying to do damage control, folding my hands in my lap so I didn't betray any emotion. Of course there was plenty to worry about, but a personality change like this was my responsibility. I wanted Jacob out of it.

"You weren't there!" Jacob gritted out suddenly, bringing a hand down hard on my desk. "There is something wrong, Miri."

I was still cringing at his casual use of my nickname; we hadn't been intimate enough for me to allow it for a good while now, and it's use had irritated me so much that I had kicked Jacob out of my office shortly after. But I understood by his usage of it how much he was begging me to take this seriously.

Of course I'm going to take this seriously, I scoffed in my head, washing shampoo out of my hair and wiping the soap away from my eyes. Everything to do with Shepard is serious. No doubt, the mission would have still succeeded had Shepard stormed that apartment, but there was no guarantee that the civilians would have survived even then. Would I have cared about her choice had I not been the one to see the results of her actions? Probably not. Even now, having seen the bodies, I had brushed them easily out of my mind. The dead civilians were just two lives, and the mission had been given a better chance of success by letting them die. In fact, it was easily something I would have done. I just never expected Shepard to be so...pragmatic.

Once again, I found myself battling to decide whether no one had truly known Shepard, or if I had somehow screwed up her brain. Or, maybe this was just who Shepard was without the guidelines of the Alliance, without Anderson and Hackett looking over her shoulder. Was there even a way for me to find out the truth? I knew how to read people as part of my job. It was essential to be able to predict the actions of others, or to know their emotions based on their body language. But knowing a person, actually knowing everything about them and who they are...I'm not sure I could even tell that about myself, nevermind someone else. It doesn't matter how many times I assured the Illusive Man that it was possible, how many times I told him I could do it. Personality was just so fluid, affected by so many variables, it made my head hurt to think about all the things that could have caused a change.

I wished I could have more time under the stream of water to continue to straighten out my thoughts, but my allotted time was already up. Conserving water was crucial if we wanted to continue to have the luxury of a shower before restocking at the Citadel. If the reservoir dropped below a certain point, the Normandy went on water restrictions where it was reserved for consumption, hand washing, and teeth brushing only. Even that could go away if it got too low, and tightly rationed cups of water would be handed out daily to each member. Of course, I was much too organized to ever let our stores get to that point, but that didn't mean I was allowed extra luxury over the rest of the crew.

As I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out of the shower stall, I tried to wrap my head around how Shepard could go from simmering, angry murder to the lighthearted woman who had woken me this morning. I had seen snippets of her temper shine through, like on the shuttle when we'd first met, but she seemed to have it under control. I forced myself to dismiss my concerns from my mind to be addressed later. I had things to achieve today. I dried out my hair, pulled on my uniform, and made a beeline for the coffee in the mess, hoping the hot liquid could help me cut through my irritation that a possible serious personality change had slipped past, obscured by my hopes for the Lazarus Project.

I ignored the silence that fell over the other Cerberus crew members as they noticed my entrance, and poured coffee almost to the point that it spilled over, not bothering with cream or sugar today. This was going to be a hell of a day, and caffeine was about to be my best friend. Surprisingly, Shepard was nowhere in sight, leaving me alone to hunch over my coffee with Garrus and Mordin. The salarian hardly needed the caffeine, but Garrus looked like he was even less of a morning person than I was.

"Shepard woke you up too?" Garrus grunted. He pulled his cup of the dextro equivalent of coffee closer to his chest before basically shoving his face into it, breathing in the warmth.

"Yes," I grumbled back, shifting to settle on the hard bench. "She is not a gentle person. At least we can do team bonding over our mutual irritation towards her."

"Right, team bonding. Apparently something I said put that idea in her head. I take it all back," he moaned. He paused a moment, still breathing the steam from his coffee, and brightened before continuing, "At least something about waking you up broke that annoyingly bright and chipper attitude. She basically ran off the deck. No idea where she went, but she better show up for this damn breakfast. If I'm here, she's here."

"The commander exhibited markers for human sexual frustration. However, elevator stopped on deck two, not commander's cabin. Likely will continue to be agitated upon return," Mordin prognosticated, oblivious to the horror crossing my face.

Garrus, however, was nonplussed and only chuckled darkly into his cup before commenting, "Well, aren't we all?"

I let out a tense breath and gave a small smile at that, relieved at the turian's ability to soldier right through a potentially awkward conversation. Perhaps someone would need to have a discussion with the salarian about what was proper to discuss between team members, especially regarding the commanding officer. Although, I thought, noting the gleam in Mordin's eye, He probably did that on purpose to entertain himself.

I returned the companionable nod Garrus directed at me before he returned his attention back to his coffee, hating how well the commander's stupid plan at bonding was already working. That I was slightly fond of Garrus was using too strong a word, but I at least mildly accepted the turian sitting across from me. I was brought out of my reverie by the bell being used superfluously by the mess sergeant, standing two feet from us, to alert us that the food was ready. I stood and quickly piled scrambled eggs into a bowl and grabbed a few pieces of toast. The eggs were made from powder and we were lucky we even had real bread, but it actually smelled pretty good and my mouth began to water before I even made it back to the table. After the first bite, however, I made a mental note to have Shepard grab some better groceries while we were on the Citadel. Oh, who was I kidding? I would get the groceries. I would need to remember to calculate how much we could spare from the budget on some better food. My list for the day was steadily growing and dragging my irritation level along with it.

I paused with a spoonful of eggs halfway to my mouth as I realized Garrus hadn't rejoined the table. My attention had been broken by Jacob finally arriving on deck, fully dressed and bright eyed, and immediately starting to talk my ear off. I found I couldn't focus on his words, too focused on where Garrus was still standing holding a red tray with a red bowl that contained his dextro portion of the food. However, there was also a second red tray on the counter, this one empty, and he couldn't seem to tear himself away from it.

Shepard walked up behind him, seemingly out of nowhere; I hadn't even seen her enter the mess. She used her hand to tuck an errant lock of hair out of her face before placing it on Garrus' shoulder, murmuring something to him that I couldn't hear from my side of the room. Whatever she said brought him back to himself, and he smiled before giving Shepard a light punch in the arm, which the commander gracefully accepted with a smile before punching back. The grimace on Garrus' face showed she didn't soften her punch quite like he had. Shepard sent the turian over to join us at the table, but I watched as she brushed her fingers over the red tray before turning to grab her own food. I wondered what a single stupid tray could mean to the two of them, but I doubted I was going to get many answers.

The table was now starting to get crowded, and I started trying to extract myself from the larger group by scooting towards to edge of the bench. A black tray slammed down next to me, blocking my escape, followed by the heavily armored Shepard. Why the woman had decided to don her armor so early was beyond me, but it didn't seem to bother her one bit. Meanwhile, I found it maddening. She slid deliberately into my space on the bench, forcing me to scootch back towards the group to avoid being bruised by her armor.

Shepard fidgeted around on the bench to get comfortable before arching back in a quick stretch that sent a plated arm only a few centimeters from my face before she settled back and gave me a smirk, the stretch of her dark lips making the freckles on her cheeks scrunch up. I scowled in reply. There was absolutely no reason why someone should look so sexy while clad in heavy armor. Sexy? What? Where did that even come from? Stop it, Miranda.

Garrus sat down across from us, his shrewd gaze following me as I fumed at being blocked in between Jacob the chatterbox and Shepard's deliberate goading. My mornings were so much better back when they were quiet.

"Speaking of Tali…Have you heard anything from the old crew?" Shepard asked, looking up at the turian. A-a-a-nd the non sequitur award goes to…, I thought.

"I used to get a few things here and there while I was on Omega, mostly from Tali. I didn't really want people knowing where I was or what I was up to. Liara snuck a few messages through, too, but she sent them with Tali," he answered. "Why? Have you not heard from them? I thought your inbox would be overflowing with congratulations—or maybe 'welcome back' is more appropriate."

"I thought so too. I expected something from Tali, at least after Freedom's Progress, but the only old friend I've had contact me is Anderson, and that was for the Council. I guess I'm not easy to get a hold of, but I thought at least Liara…" Shepard's voice broke, and she stopped, pointedly shoving down a mouthful of eggs instead. My stomach dropped, and I tried to school my face into something that passed as disinterested. "I was told Liara was an information broker now. She could've found me if she wanted to, and Tali is a tech genius that would've found my omni-tool address within seconds. I think Tali concerns me the most" Liar, I thought. "She actually saw me, but still doesn't want anything to do with me. I can't think of any reason for her ignoring me…except that she didn't believe it was me."

"Everyone has bad feelings towards Cerberus, you included. It's hard to accept that you would ever work for them, or with them, whatever. You were dead, have newly red hair, and we're a stubborn bunch, Shepard," Garrus replied, talons drumming absently against the table as he made his points. "Besides, as much as I hate to say this, it's been two years. Everyone has other responsibilities. Have you tried reaching out to anyone yourself?" Garrus asked, now raising an eyebrow towards me that Shepard thankfully didn't notice since she was preoccupied with her food.

Well, of course she has, I thought to myself, and no one has replied because they were never sent. I was torn between trying to hide my guilt by slipping back into my room, and not wanting to make myself suspect by slipping away. The turian's eyes were now glued to me as Shepard confirmed that she had sent messages and still received no response. Much as I schooled my face into its blank business expression, I was sure his eyes still found the truth written across my face: that several crew members had contacted Shepard. Those messages had simply been redirected to my inbox, as well as Shepard's outgoing personal correspondence.

"Well, I'm sure it's a simple mistake," Garrus replied to Shepard, although his eyes never left me and his voice lowered dangerously. The small amount of amiability that I had felt only moments earlier between the turian and myself now felt impossibly thin. I waited for him to voice his real suspicions, while I started coming up with reasonable excuses, deflections away from what I had done. "Probably a delay in communications; you know how these backwater comm buoys are. I'm sure you'll receive some replies very soon. In fact, I would imagine they would get to you before we even reach the Citadel. Don't you agree, Operative Lawson?"

The moment I expected never came. My eyes narrowed in suspicion, but I put on my usual condescending sneer while raising a perfectly arched eyebrow in the turian's direction. I didn't understand why he hadn't voiced his thoughts outloud to Shepard immediately, but his threat was very clear. Luckily, Shepard wasn't focused on the exchange between us. "Yes, I'm sure that's all it is. Cerberus runs all non-essential communications through a thorough screening process; even my personal mail undergoes the same treatment. They likely just haven't reached you," I replied smoothly. I ignored the voice screaming at me to tell her that her old crew likely didn't care enough to send a response. That was the reply expected of me by the Illusive Man; Shepard was not to be distracted by worries about former friends, especially Liara T'Soni. Garrus had no proof that her correspondence was in my possession, and I could easily dispose of them.

Only, I found myself unable to make the words form, not when the silence of her old crew was making Shepard question herself. Jacob had said that her actions on Omega had been harsh. It could be that all the silence from her friends was making Shepard lash out. Shepard believing that she was Shepard was more important than any orders from the Illusive Man, right?

But for me, or for her?

XXX

Garrus

The simulation program began to power up while the ground team prepared our weapons and checked armor connections. Breakfast had ended without incident, and now most of the crew was on the lower deck with us, antsy to get started. Looking over, I noticed Miranda putting a lot of space between herself and Shepard, and I sighed. Shepard's needling wasn't doing anything to gain points with Miranda. In fact, the look Miranda was giving the commander at that moment was the opposite of friendly. Both of those idiots had no idea how to play nice, and I was getting discouraged. Shepard wasn't giving the woman any reason to change her mind about us. The Illusive Man was going to turn on us, and things were going to get ugly without Miranda's support; I was sure of it. If only Shepard wouldn't be so damn difficult. I had no doubts that she could get us through this suicide mission of hers, but I had never known the woman to think past the immediate conclusion of her mission. For example, what the hell all of us would do once we're done and still sitting on a damn Cerberus ship.

I saw Jacob was eyeing the commander warily as well. I'd gathered that something had gone down on the last mission, but there was only so much I could get from eavesdropping. Shepard had waved off all my questions, and I hadn't even bothered to ask the Cerberus operatives, but I had a feeling about what could have caused it. That Commander Shepard possessed a wicked temper, a crack in her image of control, was a secret the Alliance worked hard to keep under wraps. She was their best, but more than that, Shepard played her part so beautifully for the cameras. I had once heard that Alliance recruiting almost doubled once they started using Shepard and her exploits for their advertisements. It was no surprise, then, that the Alliance would work hard to keep Shepard's flaws out of the limelight.

The warning sound of the training simulator brought my mind back into the cargo hold and away from Shepard. A countdown appeared projected on the ceiling and the ground team instinctively moved towards each other. The simulation couldn't actually inflict pain, so our armor was used not to protect from outside damage, but to deliver low level shocks when the enemies in the simulation landed a hit. The hardsuit displays, instead of displaying actual vitals and medigel levels now showed a healthbar for the simulation. I held my rifle which was empty of a thermal clip but possessed an attachment that synced it into the program. The gun wouldn't actually fire, but the simulation would know where the shot was supposed to land. It even took into account the actual weapon mods used on the weapon, including modified ammo. I had to admit that I was impressed with the training setup on the ship. When Shepard had described it as simple, I had expected a shooting range and paper targets. Seeing the orange grid begin to lay out across the cargo hold, I smiled wryly. I knew better than to listen to Shepard, Queen of Tragic Understatements. There might be a few Geth, Garrus. It's only a plant, Garrus. I'm a little out of practice with the Mako, Garrus. I found myself

A beep from my suit indicated that it had synced fully with the program and the new display flickered into view on my visor. The orange grid began to disappear, being replaced by buildings and objects. A stack of crates became a car and the shuttle was now a building, providing actual cover within the simulated program. I was definitely impressed. I didn't recognize the location, but the way the humans were looking around told me that it must be either somewhere or Earth or a famous human colony.

A countdown began, projected on the ceiling that, at the moment, looked like a cloudless blue sky. When it reached zero, I heard the shuddering breaths of husks and their infamous shambling run. I felt a rush of power as I scoped one husk and pulled the trigger, watching the simulation head explode in a very real manner. I couldn't help the bubbling of excitement that poured through me like electricity in my veins. This was my place, shooting next to Commander Shepard, and I grinned wickedly at every clean shot I made. There was no feeling like it, the triumph as adrenaline floods the body creating a single-minded focus. Every enemy screams a challenge and I answer back, squeezing the trigger in time with my heartbeat.

The husks got closer, too close for my sniper rifle, so I released the assault rifle on my back and went to town, smiling as Shepard went blazing by in a blur of biotic lightning. She looked as happy as I felt, each playing our parts in the ballet of battle. My breath began to come a little harder, this being the first exercise I'd had since the incident on Omega, but I pushed through and kept my focus on the very real looking husks. I could see why Shepard had chosen them as our enemy: not everyone had had the chance to fight husks, though I knew there had been a few on Freedom's Progress. From what Shepard told me, even that had been nothing like what a normal husk onslaught was, with dozens of them coming from all sides and the occasional ones that snuck up behind you with an iron grip that made you fight for your life.

A horn blared and the projection began to fade away, showing once again the cargo hold and an orange grid. I saw Miranda kneeling on the ground a short ways away, raven hair shrouding her face as she breathed heavily. I walked over and offered a hand, but Miranda scoffed and pushed to her feet on her own.

"Why, Lawson," Shepard said stalking over, "I do believe you just died." An armored hand pointed to a ceiling where a huge red X was flashing on top of Miranda's name.

"Stupid husk got on my back," Miranda panted angrily. "I couldn't get a grip on the bloody thing."

"You're a biotic, Lawson!" Shepard said impatiently. "Why the hell didn't you use them?" Before Miranda could answer, however, Shepard had whirled towards me, green eyes flashing. I held my hands up in protest, taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

"And you!" Shepard growled. "You were next to her the whole time. Why didn't you get the damn thing off her? This is training, not play time. You should have been paying attention."

"Sorry, Shepard, Miranda," I replied apologetically. I had gotten so caught up in the moment I had forgotten to look out for the team, but I was also surprised at the fire in Shepard's eyes and the angry passion radiating off her. Only as soon as I made the observation, the moment was gone, replaced by Shepard's usual aloof calm.

"Again," Shepard called, and waved for the program to be started again.

XXX

Miranda

Everyone began to match off into partners, following the order to start the sparring portion of our training this morning. Several Cerberus crew members had accepted the invitation to training and, though the simulation was reserved for the ground team, they eagerly paired with each other for some good natured competition.

Garrus was grabbed immediately by Zaeed, who muttered something about wanting to see 'what's so goddamned special about Archangel' while Jacob was giving me not so subtle looks to join up with him. However, no one jumped to face off with Shepard, who stood with arms crossed in the center of the room after Garrus was taken. Suddenly, she looked like the kid who realized they were about to be picked last in gym class. The feeling in my stomach told me I would regret it, but I found myself walking towards Shepard.

I wasn't expecting the wickedly seductive smirk that stretched across her face as I approached, and Shepard immediately began removing armor pieces. Soon she was only in a black tank top, shorts, and white trainers. Muscles rippled in her shoulders with her movements, and I admired her toned arms as they reached down to lace up her shoes. When she finally turned to face me, my heart fluttered. She was just so small without her armor, shorter than me, especially in my heels, that I had the ridiculous urge to wrap her in my arms.

That was my first mistake.

Being distracted by her size was something I'm sure many others had done moments before they died. She held such confidence in herself that one always recalled her being taller, larger than she really was. In the meantime, the woman was quick and vicious, barely giving me time to throw my fist up to block her attacks. Every hit rattled straight in my bones, forcing me to remember that she was so much stronger than her small frame led you to believe. I, of all people, should have known not to underestimate her; I had bloody rebuilt her. I had also been the one to give her the upgrades.

I couldn't hold out against her onslaught, barely getting two hits in, and I instinctively forced her farther away with my biotics to catch a breath. Shepard's jaw dropped indignantly in surprise before her body began to glow blue with her own biotics in response. I kicked myself and quickly tried to put more distance between us as she prowled forward. Of course I would be stupid enough to open our sparring to biotic use. I was going to have some bruises tomorrow.

I realized too late that backing away from her had been the wrong move. I should've moved back in, giving her too little room to attempt a charge. Now, I had little option but to brace myself for impact as Shepard lit up like a blue Christmas tree. A pained growl ripped from my lips after the first charge hit me, knocking me back several feet to land on my back with an undignified thump.

I stayed still on the ground in shock, trying to recover my senses. Unfortunately, I now understood firsthand why her charges were so effective. While Shepard's height was average, she was also rather petite, even with all the muscle she put on. She simply didn't possess the body shape and mass to use brute force like most vanguards. Instead, she had learned to hone the charge into a point that she directed at weak points of the body, causing the opponent to crumple incapacitated in pain, at the expense of them not being thrown a long distance. I begrudgingly admired the tactic, gingerly moving the hip joint Shepard had targeted. It was fine, likely only bruised. Shepard had pulled the punch,so to speak, not aiming to actually shatter bone, which is what would have happened if this were a real fight.

I got to my feet, throwing up a barrier as Shepard threw herself forward again, her face locked grimly in determination. Her biotics cut sharply through the barrier, its wide area focus unable to hold against the concentrated lance of her biotic charge. The victim was my lower abdomen, causing me to double over as I tried to put air back in my lungs. The pain began to radiate outwards like little spokes of needles moving through my body, but I reluctantly straightened once again. I found myself missing more and more the beginning of the match when I had been simply fending off her fists. At least then I had been somewhat of an opponent. Now, I felt like a living punching bag.

I saw Shepard smirking smugly at me, and suddenly the pain caused rage to well up inside me. I widened the stance on my feet again and concentrated on her as Shepard prepared another charge. From her body language, I realized that she wasn't even trying to finish the match; Shepard was toying with me, and I became angrier and angrier at being bested. Me, a woman engineered to be perfect. This time, right before Shepard released her biotic power to propel herself forward, I threw a quick burst of energy at her legs, causing them to sweep behind her. My timing was dead on, and Shepard's built up biotic charge had no where else to go but out, slamming her hard into the ground where she barely managed to throw up an arm that prevented her head from bouncing against the metal. I took the moment to close the distance and flip her over, but she grabbed me and flipped us over so that she was on top, pushing me into the hard ground. With a grunt, I gained the top again, winning the struggle against the still dazed Shepard. With one arm holding me up, I wreathed my other fist in biotics, ready to deliver a punch that would knock her into oblivion.

The amusement in her green eyes caused my arm to stop, the biotics still flickering around my knuckles. Recognition that I had won the match trickled slowly into my mind as I tried to control my breathing. The anger drained out of me, allowing the haze of bloodlust to clear from my vision. I glanced down at Shepard below me, who was actually smiling the first full smile she had ever given in my direction, the warmth even seeping into her eyes.

Suddenly my body was hyper aware of Shepard's below me, all lovely curves pushed into mine. Her toned muscle stretched out against me, and my skin was electrified at every point of contact, making my very fingertips tingle. Heat was pulsing through us after the heavy sparring, and Shepard's deep breaths only pushed her breasts harder against mine, making it hard for me to keep breathing in return.

Our faces were so close I could count every freckle that scattered across perfectly sculpted features, made all the more lovely by the flush that glowed across them. Green eyes watched me curiously, studying my reaction as my heart hammered in my chest; I was almost certain she could feel it thrumming against her. I found I couldn't drag my gaze away from the inviting curves of her mouth. I would look up into her eyes, only to be dragged down by the singular desire I held to feel her lips against mine.

Before I realized what I was doing, the biotics disappeared from my hand as I lowered it to trace my fingers across her newly scar free cheek, my thumb brushing over her lower lip. Her eyes darkened with what might have been desire and her lips parted under my thumb. I dropped lower, wanting so badly to crash my lips against her darker ones, and she hadn't made to turn away, her bright green eyes still locked on my face.

Everything seemed to hang still, my lips a mere breath away from hers as we stayed locked in place together. All it would take was for me to move that last centimeter lower and...

"Hey, Shepard! Nap time is over; I need someone who can actually match me," Garrus yelled over at us, causing Shepard to jerk away. I shook myself as I hurriedly clambered up and backed away from Shepard, who instead of looking disgusted like I'd expected, simply looked confused. She spared only one glance for me as she turned and walked away to Garrus.

XXX

Hours later I found myself trudging wearily through the endless virtual paperwork associated with being the head Cerberus operative on board. The Illusive Man didn't actually read all of the reports, usually, trusting the people he put in charge to do their jobs correctly, only pulling out the mission reports if something went wrong. But Shepard was no ordinary mission, and he was overseeing the operation directly, even pinging my omni when he felt he had gone too long without a report. When I had received a message from him earlier requesting the latest update, I had been tempted to shut down my omni-tool and pretend like I hadn't gotten it until tomorrow, especially since my body still hurt from the beating I took during training. However, I eventually gave in and positioned myself at my desk to type up the reports.

Like the dutiful little operative that I am, I snorted to myself.

I reached for my coffee cup and took a deep swig. Unfortunately, that particular cup happened to be a day old and stone cold, and I quickly reached for my water to dilute the awful taste in my mouth. I really needed to start disposing of my coffee once I was done with it, then I wouldn't end up abusing my taste buds so often. I grabbed the correct cup of coffee before I pulled up the next report to be sent off, and I scrounged up the reviewed version that Shepard had so gracefully dropped off this morning. Shepard's suggested edits were ridiculous, and I couldn't decide if she had actually meant for me to change them or if she was simply screwing with me. It was likely the latter; Shepard was clever and had to know she didn't get to read the real reports: the ones I sent separately to the Illusive Man. Meanwhile, my duplicity meant twice the work for me, and I couldn't seem to keep my head off of my desk this late into the night.

It didn't help that my thoughts continued to gravitate towards that moment with Shepard during training. It had been so intense; I had truly wanted to kiss her. But no, I pushed the thoughts away quickly. I didn't think of Shepard like that, and she certainly would never be mine, not in that way. I had simply gotten lost in the heat of the moment.

It was understandable, I reasoned, that I came to care about her after working on her for two years. But there was no reason why my feelings should be anything more than that. Kissing was absolutely out of the question.

I reread through Shepard's personal messages as a distraction, rereading some again as I anxiously planned to release them back to Shepard. None of them contained anything that should distract Shepard from the mission; they were simply friendly notes asking Shepard to contact them and tell them she was alive. I organized for them to be routed back through the Cerberus system and into Shepard's mailbox at staggered intervals. The messages would show as having gone through Cerberus screening and they wouldn't suspiciously arrive at the same time.

I withheld only two: a message from Shepard's mother and one from Liara T'Soni. I kept the one from Hannah Shepard simply because I knew of the strained relationship between mother and daughter and I didn't think Shepard could handle her mother's lighthearted message that was so impersonal and so without actual caring that it put my teeth on edge. I had the world's worst father, sure, but at least he had cared about me, even if it was only concern for his investment and legacy.

I had put away thoughts of sending Liara's message almost immediately. Even though she was the one Shepard most wanted to hear from, I couldn't risk this message disrupting the mission. The Illusive Man wouldn't stand for it, and it was my job to keep this mission on track. Even against Garrus and his veiled threats, I wouldn't reveal this one; Shepard would almost certainly turn for Illium. Besides, Liara had only sent one message when it had now been weeks since my message telling her that Shepard was alive. She obviously didn't care enough to try harder.

From: T'Soni, L

To: Shepard, Commander

Shepard,

I honestly don't know if you'll even receive this. No doubt Cerberus has your messages tightly monitored. It is also likely that you now know of my involvement in Cerberus' acquisition of your body, and if you hate me for that, I'm sorry.

I just need you to know that, if it's really you, I still love you. The thought haunts me that you might not truly be Shepard, and that your return is a cruel false hope. But if this is real, come visit me on Illium. I have too much here to leave and find you; I hope you'll understand. Neither one of us may be the same person as two years ago, but all the same, I'd like to see you.

Hoping to see you soon,

Liara

My gut twisted every time I read the words: I still love you. Shepard wouldn't be able to resist turning away from the mission to visit Liara. Who knows what that visit could do? Right now Shepard was volatile, and I couldn't predict with certainty what she would choose to do, or what that would do to our mission. The mission. That's all I was concerned about.

If you love her so much, why not come to us, Liara? I thought angrily. The asari almost certainly followed the Normandy's movements closely-our mission objective didn't currently require stealth-and she could have found us if she had wanted to. There are even ways to get a message to Shepard around Cerberus channels, like someone carrying a message to her when we were on Omega. I would read the message, of course, and try to prevent Shepard from going to see her, but Shepard would at least know Liara cared.

The asari honestly wasn't trying very hard. Cerberus intelligence told me the woman was too obsessed in her hunt for the Shadow Broker, the obsession born when her mission to retrieve Shepard left that drell Feron in his possession. Why Liara was spending so much energy on that traitorous idiot was beyond me. Feron was probably dead already anyway. It was time for her to cut her losses and get out; one asari wasn't a match for the Shadow Broker.

The sounds of pots suddenly clanging together followed by loud cursing startled me out of my chair, causing my over worked muscles to scream at me. The sounds were coming from the mess, which was on the other side of the wall, and I hoped whoever it was would simply finish what they were doing and get back to their quarters. When another pot reverberated off the floor, I gave a groan and threw on my robe, angry at whoever was making so much noise at this hour. I started towards the door to tell off whoever was out there, but halted when the voice I heard through the door sounded a lot like Shepard. I hesitated, then turned on my heel to go back to my desk after making sure the lock on my door was still engaged. Sliding into my desk chair, I pulled up the camera feeds for deck three and selected the one trained on the mess. I snagged a pair of headphones and plugged into the console before switching the audio on and focusing on the screen.

Whatever I was expecting, that was not it.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing at the sight that was Shepard covered from head to toe in flour with various dishes on the ground around her. She had her arms crossed and was frowning at the mess.

"Care to share what you're doing there, Shepard?" Garrus asked, the laugh evident in his voice as he appeared on the camera from around the corner. A powdered Shepard turned quickly toward to the voice before crossing her arms defensively.

"I was trying to make some damn pancakes, if you must know," Shepard huffed. "but they put the stupid pans up so high that I can't reach them! Trust Cerberus to make it impossible to have a midnight snack."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly what Cerberus was thinking: 'betray Shepard by keeping the crockery up high," Garrus laughed. "How exactly did they get the pancake mix in your hair then?"

Shepard shuffled her feet and frowned at the large silver bowl on the counter.

"I climbed onto the counter to get one of the pans, and then this thing," Shepard said motioning to the bowl, "decided to tip over for no reason. There's really no need to go into the details."

I honestly don't think I had ever seen someone glare so murderously at an inanimate object, but there she was, our fearless leader, one insult away from tossing the bowl across the room. The corners of my mouth twitched up quite against my will at the thought.

"Of course, Shepard, no need at all," Garrus said as he reached up to grab the pan Shepard was trying for earlier.

"Now you're just showing off," Shepard grumbled.

Garrus laughed and said, "Says the human who could've used her biotics to grab the pan in the first place."

Shepard stopped in the middle of setting the pan on the stove where she wanted it, her face falling into a deadpan expression at the comment. "Damn, I knew I was forgetting something," Shepard suddenly chuckled as she started to wipe the flour off of her.

The turian leaned back against the counter as Shepard tried to recover as much pancake mix as she could back into the bowl. She cracked the eggs in, mixed it up, and happily went about turning them in the pan. I was surprised at how…cheery she was.

"So, Shepard, not sleeping these days?" Garrus ventured.

I mentally slapped myself. Of course, that should've been my first concern when I saw Shepard out of bed at this hour.

"Ah, you know, the usual nightmares, followed with some new ones," Shepard mumbled, her emotional walls snapping up as her mood darkened. "You come out here just to ask personal questions?"

"No, I came out here to see who was destroying the kitchen," Garrus laughed, leaning an elbow on the counter. "But, seriously, anything you want to talk about?"

"No, we're not having this conversation." Shepard leveled a look at him and waved him off, her mood suddenly black. She was avoiding his eyes, but I felt a small flicker of admiration for the turian when he ignored Shepard's words and kept talking.

"C'mon we've been having these midnight meetings for too long for you not to tell me what's going on. It's not going to kill you to talk about it," Garrus said, before pausing and cocking his head to the side. "Death comments. Too soon, huh?"

That received a weak smile. Shepard continued her pancake flipping, flattening them with the spatula and watching the uncooked batter squish out from the underside. The silence stretched out, and I was starting to think that she wasn't going to give Garrus an answer at all when Shepard finally looked back over to the turian. "Fine," she said motioning him to follow her as she grabbed her newly made pancakes and moved to the table.

The silence at the table stretched long enough that I start getting antsy in my desk chair. The exhaustion was starting to hit me hard, and I was out of coffee. I was desperately trying to keep my eyes open so I wouldn't miss Shepard's words, but it was getting harder and harder.

"It's the same thing every time," Shepard said finally, the words coming over the headphones to jerk me awake. "I'm back on Akuze and the acid is eating through my armor, then it starts to burn through my skin. I look up and..." Shepard started to say a name before correcting herself, "someone I care about dies in front of me," Shepard explained, looking sad before her face twisted up again. "Only now, instead of ending, it continues so I'm over Alchera again, suffocating and burning alive in the planet's atmosphere."

"Is that all?" Garrus asked, taking me aback. It was not said unkindly, but it was definitely not the comment I would've followed the confession with.

"Is that not enough?" Shepard snapped, eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. It's just," Garrus backtracked, fumbling for words, "you seem calmer than you used to on these nights. I would've guessed the nightmare was better, not worse."

Shepard looked distinctly uncomfortable, her face almost appearing...embarrassed. But that can't be right, I thought. Shepard shoved some pancakes in her mouth, but Garrus, experienced in the art of holding a conversation with her, continued to wait patiently, instead of changing the subject.

"It, uh, didn't end where I thought it would this time. It went to the first time I woke up on the Lazarus Station. I was freaking out, but then Miranda was there. She touched my arm and murmured something I don't remember before shouting at Wilson again. But I remembered that it made me feel better," Shepard recalled softly. "She smiled at me, the only real smile I think I've seen that woman give since. The nightmare didn't seem so bad after that."

"I didn't even even know I had remembered all of that until it popped up in that nightmare," Shepard continued, and then thoughtfully amended, "that dream. I woke up calm. It was the best sleep I've had all week."

I felt like I had been glued into my desk chair, a feeling I couldn't define trying to claw its way to the surface. I knew what I had said to her: Shepard, you're okay. I'm here. Her eyes had been wildly looking up at me, the panic so clearly screaming out of them. She would've felt paralyzed, unable to move limbs properly yet. I remember being surprised when she was able to raise her hand towards me. And I had gripped it softly and whispered to her like I would a child. I never imagined she would be able to recall that moment.

"So maybe you're open to giving Miranda a chance?" Garrus' voice came through the headphones, startling me.

"No," Shepard answered flatly, making my heart drop. "It was just a dream, Garrus. Miranda is Cerberus, and I don't even know her. I don't want to know her."

"That's not what it looked like earlier today," Garrus challenged. "Seemed like you two were getting along just fine."

Shepard narrowed her eyes at him. "Seriously?" she questioned, her fingers starting to drum against the mess table in agitation. "Fine, consider me conflicted. That's the best you're going to get from me," she growled, chewing on her lip in thought. "I hate you sometimes, you know that?"

"I love you, too, my friend," Garrus sneered back and Shepard just gave an exasperated huff. "You know," the turian continued, "you might get her to open up to you if you stop antagonizing her."

"Who says I want her to open up to me? Seems like you're the one who keeps bringing her up," Shepard scowled. She shoved another mouthful of pancakes in her mouth, chewing aggressively. "Besides, I don't antagonize her."

"Right," Garrus nodded sarcastically. "Because that would mean you don't actually hate her. So there wasn't a requisition form on your desk for a custom built housing complex for that stupid space hamster you just bought?"

Space hamster house? I bristled in contempt. I would never approve something so silly.

"It's just fun to see her get all riled up," Shepard mumbled, spearing another bite of pancakes with her fork. I sat back in my seat with the realization that for days she has been playing with me.

"Antagonizing," Garrus reiterated with a pointed look.

"Annoying," Shepard countered, pointing her fork at Garrus. "If I have to deal with a pain-in-the-ass turian, the least I can do is pass it on."

Soon enough, the two of them cleared out of the mess and off to bed. Even with a blank screen in front of me, I continued to sit at my desk for a moment, re-rolling the headphones up with my fingers as I tried to process the emotions fighting for my attention. Forbidden schoolgirlish giddiness tried to climb its way to the top, but I hurriedly stomped it back down. Personal feelings were not relevant to my mission; I shouldn't care if Shepard liked me. Amusement at the dynamic between the turian and Shepard was the emotion that followed, and this one I allowed. The fact that Archangel has turned out to be such a close friend for Shepard was a big bonus for our mission, and I couldn't help but be pleased at the situation.

I looked at the reports that still sat unfinished, and I sighed. I wasn't going to get to those tonight, my eyelids already drooping again. I stood up out of my chair and stripped down, throwing the clothes in the hamper that sat in the corner of my room. With a hum of pleasure, I slipped under my sheets, the fabric cool against my skin and the bed soothing the aches in my muscles. As I drifted off, I could still feel myself smiling.

Aaaand we reached the end. I do want there to still be some tension between the folks on the Normandy because there's no way they're going to trust each other very quickly. However, I was trying to build the foundation for them getting closer and throw in some fluffy relief before everything gets serious. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Do you think the characterizations are on point? Am I staying consistent with my characters? Drop a line and tell me because I'd love to make this better.