Ch. 15: Those Betrayed

Miranda

I flipped the folding cot over and kneeled beside it, searching for the tag attached to the bottom.

"Safely holds 100 kilograms," I read from the small text and sighed, pushing the cot away from me so I could stand again. Then I shoved it back into the little supply closet. Bloody useless. I should have found something while we were still on the Citadel.

As it was, we were approaching the prison ship where Jack was being held, and I still hadn't found an appropriate sleeping situation for our new krogan crew member. Everything on board was simply not made to handle his weight which, if I had to guess, was somewhere around 160 kilos. Grunt had been sleeping on the metal floor, and though he seemed fine with it, the fact that I'd found nothing better irritated me.

With Plan A (the plan where I didn't completely forget to have accommodations for a krogan prepared) and Plan B (the plan where one of the rollaway beds would work) both failures, it was time to turn to Plan C. I started with the supply closet in the crew quarters. There were four pillows and blankets in there, so I took those before heading to my own closet, pulling the extra pillow and blanket that were stashed there.

An alert on my omni-tool pulled my attention: another report from the contact keeping an eye on Oriana. While the reminder of my cherished, sheltered sister usually cheered me up, the looming threat seemingly inching ever closer to her only served to foul my mood even further.

I stomped over to the medbay, remembering that I had ordered a surplus on almost everything in there, while my current collection of pillows and blankets floated biotically behind me. Dr. Chakwas was mercifully away, and I pilfered freely from the medbay stores, adding the new items to the floating conglomeration before absconding from the medbay.

"Taking the 'pillow queen' thing to the next level, Lawson?"

I startled at Shepard's voice as she stepped through the doorway of my empty office, and my face fell into a wry grin as I watched her take in the strange scene before her.

"It's not nice to make assumptions," I said, daring to raise an eyebrow as my bad mood slipped away. "Though perhaps I should be flattered you were thinking of me at all."

Shepard flushed all the way to her hairline, just like I knew she would, and I worked to hide my satisfied smile.

"Do I want to know?" Shepard asked, directing her eyes to the pillows and blankets still floating behind me.

If it hadn't been against every bit of my training in etiquette, I would have shrugged, mimicking Shepard's infamous gesture. Instead, I allowed my mouth to twist slightly as I shook my head.

"Just trying to give Grunt something decent to sleep on for the next few days," I admitted.

"Oh," Shepard replied, nervously turning over in her hands what I recognized as my recently broken alarm clock. "I probably should have thought of that."

"I had it handled; I would have alerted you otherwise," I assured her. She offered one of her small smiles that were still so rare as to be treasured right as my omni-tool beeped to alert me that we were drawing closer to our destination.

"Why do you have my alarm clock?" I asked Shepard as I breezed through the doorway of my room. I dropped my mountain of bedding in a corner to be taken care of later, and then fell into step next to Shepard as she led us in the opposite direction.

Shepard shrugged as we moved into the elevator. "I thought I'd fix it."

I stared at her. "Don't bother; I'll just buy a new one. That's already in several pieces."

"It'll give me a reason to pull out the tools I bought for those ship models. That way you can't complain about me buying them anymore," Shepard bantered lightly.

"I just don't see how many tiny screwdrivers you could possibly need," I retorted, though more out of habit than actual annoyance. She now had her personal money for that sort of thing.

"Different parts require different sizes. Besides, Garrus used one to fix a panel last week, so they paid for themselves, really," she quipped.

"Well, if you're out of models and want to fix that, then be my guest," I finally said. I tried to sound unaffected, but a small pang of discontent shot through my chest at the thought of me throwing my clock across the room again after she'd fixed it for me (though it wasn't really for me, I made sure to remind myself). Maybe I could just start biotically shooting my pillow across the room instead. I would miss that satisfying crack against the wall, though.

When Shepard smirked at my words, a pleasant warmth effused through my chest, and I shook my head lightly to myself, hiding my own smile.

The elevator reached the second floor, we disembarked, and Shepard led us to the cockpit. Shepard's steps sounded heavier as we made the transition; they grew even and steady, like she subconsciously matched them to her heartbeat. With each step, her face hardened, her chin tipped up, and her shoulders straightened until we reached Joker where Shepard was in full commander mode. Had she really been able to relax so much around me?

"How's everything look, Flight Lieutenant?" Shepard asked, leaning on the back of Joker's chair with her forearm. He gave a scowl at the title.

"All good, Commander. Not close enough for docking codes yet, but we're within sight distance," Joker reported.

"Excellent," Shepard said.

I shifted feet, not sure what to expect next as Shepard remained leaning against the leather back of Joker's chair. Really, I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing up here, except that following Shepard had felt natural, something an XO would do with a commanding officer she reasonably got along with now. And Shepard hadn't discouraged it.

The commander heaved a heavy sigh. "You know, if just a few things had worked out differently, I could be on that prison ship," Shepard admitted casually. Her eyes flitted to mine. "When I was younger, during one of my' pranks', I accidentally shut off the environmental systems to two districts. Luckily managed to get them back on in time."

"Well, I'm sure you appreciate your freedom. I've heard nasty things about this prison ship."

"They're criminals, and they deserve it," Shepard scowled, her jaw tightening. "I would have deserved it, had I suffocated all those people."

"You do realize that we're recruiting one of those criminals, correct?" I chided.

Shepard turned and kept her face steadfastly directed to the open windows, even the side of her face hidden by the sweeping curtain of her hair.

"Maybe Jack's situation is more understandable to me, considering what was done to her," Shepard mused throatily. I knew in an instant what she was referring to.

"I received the same memo this morning, Shepard. I'll remind you: the Illusive Man said Jack was the result of a 'rogue cell,' not Cerberus," I defended.

"You do seem to have a lot of those," Shepard replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Convenient that they only seem to be rogue when others find out about them."

"Cerberus is invested in a great many projects," I replied, ignoring part of her insinuation. "It is impossible to have complete oversight while also maintaining anonymity between the cells. That's why certain reliable individuals are put in charge of each, though occasionally the trust in them turns out to be misplaced."

"It just seems like a pretty big coincidence that Jack is an experiment of Cerberus...and now we're here to 'recruit' Jack," Shepard said.

"Her origins notwithstanding, it was Jack's actions that put her in prison, not Cerberus. She's a criminal, and as you said, 'deserves it," I reminded her.

She finally turned to look at me again, her eyes heated with the discussion. "Yes, but she'll be helping us. It's for the greater good," she argued.

"Yet it's curious how much that phrase begins to sound like, 'the ends justify the means,'" I reasoned slowly. "A point which you held in so much disdain during our last conversation."

Shepard sighed, reaching up to tuck part of her hair behind her ear as she met my steady gaze. Though I thought she might be upset at the turn in the argument, Shepard just pursed her lips and rolled her eyes almost fondly.

"You just couldn't go one day without an argument, could you, Lawson?" Shepard asked.

"Not when I know I'm going to win," I gloated, the corners of my mouth curling easily into a smirk.

"We have begun the final approach to the prison ship, Commander," EDI announced, interrupting any response Shepard might have made.

"That's our cue," I hummed, but Shepard motioned me to stop before I got too far out of the cockpit.

"You're not coming with me onto the Purgatory," Shepard admitted, and I blinked at her. I'm not going? "I'll be taking the shuttle, and Joker is on orders to keep the targeting systems locked on the prison ship. It should be just enough of a threat to keep them from trying anything, but I need someone here to give orders, just in case," Shepard explained.

"I am not going to blow up a ship with you on it," I contended, though I would admit to being slightly mollified that she was leaving me in charge.

"Don't argue, Lawson," Shepard snapped. "It's called a bluff."

I stared at her, pursing my lips. "You should only bluff if you're prepared to follow through."

Shepard waved off my concerns. "I trust your judgement. Just fire at the part of the ship that doesn't have me on it and give me time to get to the shuttle. It should be an unnecessary threat; they'd be stupid to try anything. You'll bring the ship in close only when Jack is ready to be transferred," she explained. "And if all else fails, you'll just rebuild me."

"I don't have the time or the resources to bring you back again, Shepard," I said to the back of her head as she turned to leave the area.

"Then I guess I'll just have to stay out of trouble," Shepard said, laughing at her own joke and giving a jaunty wave with the back of her hand.

I stayed in the cockpit and listened for ding of the elevator that told me the commander was off-deck. Then I waited for the team to put on their helmets so I could listen in and watch the mission on the displays in the cockpit. I paced the area, likely annoying Joker as we both watched the helmet monitors of the team to track their progress, but the mission was going surprisingly well, all things considered. Shepard muted me after only the second time I tried to offer suggestions, though, and so I was left with an hour of helpless watching and Joker's insufferable 'humor.'

However, Shepard did make good on Cerberus' money transfer passed easily, and the warden of the ship had a sedated Jack prepared for transport. I noticed some distress on Shepard's part during some of her conversations with the warden, but without her speaker on, I couldn't hear what they were saying. The rest of the team was also standing too far from her for their helmet recordings to be of any use, though their visuals of her stiff shoulders and clenched hands told me most of what I needed to know. I began to worry when some of her stats pushed into unsafe levels.

I made my way into the cargo bay right when the Normandy fully shuddered into the docking clamps. The cargo ramp lowered slowly, revealing a tense Shepard standing with Grunt, Kasumi, and Jacob. I smirked at the rather awkward posture of Jacob as he tried to put distance between himself and Kasumi, but it really wasn't working. Grunt stood stoically to the side, his eyes warily sweeping the area. Shepard, however, seemed to be paying attention to nothing except the unconscious woman strapped to an oversized dolly.

I sneered, slightly appalled at the choice to chain a person to a dolly instead of using a more comfortable stretcher, but it did make the wheeling her onto the Normandy much easier. Jack's head lolled to the side with the sedation, showing the empty biotic amp port at the base of her skull as well as the tattoos that wrapped around her entire bald head—which also seemingly continued to every other part of her very visible body. Her skin showed an unsightly grey color from her extended stay in cryo storage, though it should fade within a few hours. Jack was small, she was skinny, and she looked so very young, even with the makeup that had remained freshly drawn along her eyes and lips.

"Admiring your handiwork?" Kasumi asked, her smooth accent sounding right next to my ear.

"Excuse me? Jack isn't…"

Kasumi cut me off with a laugh. "Not her, silly." Kasumi's eyes drifted pointedly over to where Shepard was bidding the warden goodbye and authorizing the cargo door to begin swinging shut. She flickered out of sight and then reappeared on my left side, trailing a finger down my spine. My pulse picked up even at such a small gesture from an unwanted thief, and I cursed my body for the response. Seems like it was betraying me in all sorts of ways lately.

Kasumi then leaned into my side, breathing in appreciatively while keeping her eyes on Shepard. "She was right. You do smell good."

I flushed just as I had that night when Shepard had drunkenly clung to me, my eyes widening at Kasumi's admission. A biting retort about eavesdropping in corners was on the tip of my tongue but faltered when I noticed Shepard's heated gaze on me and the thief. Though, the words fully dried in my mouth when I realized Shepard's eyes weren't just heated, they were glowing.

I hurried over to Shepard, Kasumi easily forgotten. "Commander, do you feel alright?" I asked tentatively. Shepard's eyes flickered behind me to where Kasumi was, no doubt, making her exit on the elevator before settling back on my face, and I wondered if my cheeks were still tinted red.

"I feel fine. Why?" Shepard replied in a sharp voice, now grasping the handles of Jack's dolly and wheeling our still unconscious guest to the elevator. Shepard caught sight of herself in the reflective walls of the elevator and startled. She rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to dispel the image, but the red glow stubbornly continued to show. "Oh. Shit. And here I thought the day might actually get better."

"I'll just take a look once we get to the medbay," I stated. Shepard's hands gripped tightly around the dolly handles, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed on Jack as she worked her jaw in anxiety. I wanted to comfort her, assure her, but wavered on whether that would just make things worse.

With the silence of the elevator wrapped around us, I took a chance. "I'll fix it, Shepard," I murmured. Her eyes zeroed in on me, but I saw her shoulders relax an inch. "I'll fix it," I repeated, more confident.

Shepard gave a small nod, and it was okay because I wasn't really expecting a full answer. We arrived at the third deck, and Shepard pushed the dolly up and over the slight bump where the elevator met the actual floor before wheeling towards the medbay.

She turned slightly to look at me. "You messaged that you'd set something up?"

"Yes," I confirmed, pointing to the back bed where I'd prepared several shields to contain Jack to the area around her bed until we were sure she wouldn't try attacking. "Dr. Chakwas can do some minor scans to confirm her health and then monitor her waking from the sedation."

Dr. Chakwas acknowledged me from her desk chair as Shepard squinted at the mobile shield units. "These are going to use a lot of power. Why not just keep her strapped down?"

I could feel some of the blood drain from my face as I was assaulted with old memories of labs, my arms and legs bound along with an even worse strap holding across my neck: a result of my panicking one too many times during the 'correctional procedures.' My father had decided the restraints were necessary to make sure I didn't 'hurt myself.'

I took a breath to steady myself, ignoring the way Shepard's gaze had seemed to soften with knowing. "I just thought Jack would likely already be uncomfortable waking surrounded by Cerberus logos. No need to add to it by chaining her down."

"It'll probably still be uncomfortable waking up without her amp," Shepard said, her voice raising halfway into a question.

I shook my head. "Leave it until we're sure."

Shepard chuckled suddenly, running a hand through her hair to push it from her face. "Now, why didn't we do something like this when we released Grunt?" she said lightly.

"Because someone didn't give me time to prepare. I honestly didn't think you were even going to open the tank," I replied.

Shepard blinked at me. "You...didn't think I was going to open it?" she repeated, the corners of her mouth twitching up. "Have you met me?"

I gave an uncharacteristic roll of my eyes, and Shepard laughed. It had been rather obvious that Shepard would release Grunt, now that I thought about it.

With nothing more to say, I finally motioned for Shepard to sit on an unoccupied bed while I rolled a scanner over. She tensed again at the reminder of the abnormality but scrambled onto the bed without hesitation. Shepard arranged herself flat along the bed, reaching up to pull her hair out from behind her neck so that it splayed out above her on the white pillow.

Minus that Shepard's eyes were open and watching me intently through a disorienting red glow, the routine from there was familiar, and I actually felt some of the tension unbunch from my shoulders. In the middle of the galaxy going to hell, working with quite possibly the most frustrating team of people I'd ever met, and ghosts of my past deciding that right now was the best time to haunt me, working on Shepard was something I could do. So, while I may not have been actually perfect, I was at least the best damn person to fix Shepard, bar none. That was at least reassuring.

I miss working on her. It was a ridiculous sentiment, and I didn't actually want to go back because Shepard alive was monumentally better than her lying on my operating table. However, I missed the routine and having a goal that was not only clearly defined but within sight. I woke with reasonable expectations for what my day held for me, no surprises except for the predicted variations of our, admittedly rather untested, scientific techniques.

Now I could barely plan beyond the next few days. I arranged our inventory and budget meticulously, but there was always something happening to throw it off. Shepard needed this or wanted to stop on such and such planet because something was happening there that was Important. She was unruly and entirely unpredictable. On my worst days, I longed for the control chip I had wanted to place in her, and on my best days, I looked around me with mild discontent. There was something wrong about wishing for a time when Shepard wasn't conscious, but, well, no one can scold me in my own head for being irrational, and it was easier when I was in charge.

Shepard now had the ability to watch my visual examination of her with apprehension, and I needed nothing more to remind me that my routine from Lazarus Station could not wholly apply here. So I slowed my movements, trying to give Shepard time to prepare herself.

I started the scanner, let it pass through one cycle, and frowned. Glancing down at Shepard, who didn't look like she was going to snap at me, I reached in to gently tip Shepard's chin up, gaining a better angle to see her eyes which were steadfastly glued to my face in return. I saw no visible injuries, which the uploaded scans had also confirmed. A problem with the cybernetics then. Curious.

There was also a larger cybernetic implant at either hinge of her jaw, so I slipped my left hand gently on the right side of Shepard's neck to support it as I turned the left side to me. There. I shut the light off above us and could better see a faint glow visible beneath the skin. I leaned closer, and the scanner pinged wildly at an increase in Shepard's heart rate.

I peered down at her in concern. "Was something painful?"

I released the slight pressure I had on her chin so she could turn her face back towards me. Green eyes, irises still mostly visible even with the red glow of the cybernetics, met mine and then danced away.

"No," she muttered huskily.

I frowned but continued my examination, tracing the glow of red under her skin as Shepard's eyes fluttered shut. I made quick work of the clasps still holding on her breastplate, pulling the front off to expose her collarbone. The red glow continued, and I sighed, applying pressure gently at different places experimentally. There was no reaction except the scanner signaling again, to which Shepard's eyes sprang open, curiously less red than even a moment ago, and she blushed while directing a scowl to the scanner.

Part of my brain insisted that I pay attention to that, that something about Shepard's reaction was important, but I ignored it because her health was the priority. And there was something wrong with Shepard.

"Cybernetics were incorporated into many different parts of your body, and as far as I can tell, they are what is causing the glow," I hummed thoughtfully, though I was mostly talking to myself. "Though why it started now is not very clear. Although, there was that spike in your stats on board the Purgatory. Perhaps it's linked to emotions?"

"There's no pain? Nothing feels wrong at all?" I inquired, remembering how she hadn't even noticed until I'd pointed it out.

Shepard minutely shook her head, and I brushed a finger, almost unconsciously, along Shepard's jaw as I continued to think out loud. Shepard sucked in a sharp breath.

"I'll need to check my notes again. The color is already fading, so it does seem like emotional distress was the culprit. However," I trailed off, frowning at my thoughts, "if there are no injuries or malfunctions, I'm not sure how to prevent it happening again."

I looked down, confused that Shepard wasn't berating me already for not knowing the answer, but I laughed low in my throat when I realized it was because she'd fallen asleep. Hardly surprising considering her nightly forays into the kitchen and general insomnia, I was still slightly irritated that she could fall asleep before the examination was even over.

"Where the fuck am I?" Jack screeched from the nearby bed.

Shepard startled awake and almost tumbled off the cot, only stopping when she managed a blind grab for my hand. Her other hand came up to rest over her chest, getting her breathing back under control. It all would have been amusing were Shepard not crushing my hand in her grip. And no, I was absolutely not thinking about the fact that Shepard wasn't letting go.

"Who the fuck are you people?" a frantic Jack demanded, eyes running across the room and settling finally on the logo stamped on my uniform. "Cerberus."

"Sort of," Shepard said. She slid off the cot, released my hand, and held both of hers out in front of her in a way that I'm sure was meant to be placating, but had always just irritated the hell out of me when it was directed my way. Jack didn't appreciate it either.

"I wake up in a room covered in Cerberus logos, and you're trying to tell me you're only 'sort of' Cerberus? You think I'm stupid?" Jack yelled.

"Well," I sneered—it wasn't as if she'd had an actual education—and Shepard turned to me in exasperation. Jack huffed and banged a fist against her containment shields. Her biotics flickered but barely rippled the shield.

Her eyes widened in panic. "What did you do to my biotics?"

"Your amp is removed. We'll replace it once we're sure you won't attack us," I stressed.

"Fat chance of that, bitch," Jack snarled.

"We do recruit the loveliest people," I muttered, and I heard Shepard give a quiet laugh beside me.

"Look, we're getting off on the wrong foot," Shepard said, trying to mollify her. "I'm Commander Shepard, and we bought you to recruit you."

"Bought? So I'm going to be some sort of slave? That's some recruitment," Jack shot back with venom.

"Not a slave. Part of our team. We're on an important mission that we could use your help on," Shepard explained.

"And if I don't want to? You gonna let me go?" Jack demanded. Red lips twisted in a smirk at Shepard's silence and pursed into disgust at my expressionless stare. "I thought so. Cerberus is always the same."

Likely Shepard hadn't even thought about what she would do when someone didn't jump to join her just because she'd asked. She always did recover quickly though.

Shepard's mouth drew into a hard line. "You're not a slave, but I can't say your options are much better," Shepard said. "I could let you go, but I doubt you'll get very far. I'm not Cerberus, but my ship, its AI, and my XO are Cerberus. Lawson won't admit it outloud, but I imagine the real Cerberus would be there to pick you up within the hour."

Jack scowled at me further, eyes dragging unimpressed along my form. I glared back, taking in small, malnourished features riddled with tattoos. Don't worry; the feeling is mutual, my eyes shot back to hers.

"Or you could work with me," Shepard continued. "And if we're not all dead at the end of this, I'll make sure Cerberus never comes near you."

"And how the fuck you plan to do that? You look pretty cozy here," Jack sneered, eyes flickering over to me again.

"Well, because once I'm done with this mission, I'm taking Cerberus' ship and getting the fuck out of here," Shepard proclaimed. I raised an eyebrow and she scoffed, "Like you haven't already planned for it, Lawson."

Shepard wasn't wrong; from the beginning, that's exactly what I expected her to do. Jack, however, didn't seem to care about the exchange and just watched us with a shrewd dislike, eyes jumping from one face to the other. She finally seemed to notice Dr. Chakwas at her desk and, surprisingly, glared at her the longest.

"Fine. Say I do work for you. I want something first," Jack declared.

"You're hardly in a position to make demands," I scoffed.

Shepard held out a hand to stop me. "You're right," she said to me, "but as a member of the team, she does have the right to make a request." Shepard turned to Jack. "What do you want?"

"I want the files Cerberus has on me," Jack said.

"No," I stated flatly. Shepard's eyes flashed in anger, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Jack on the edge of her seat as well, her mouth curled into a snarl.

"Lawson…" Shepard warned.

"I'm not being belligerent, Shepard. I don't have access to those files," I responded, irritated. "You think I didn't attempt to get in the moment the Illusive Man sent us that memo?"

Shepard looked at me in disbelief. "You're one of Cerberus' top ranking officers, you've seen the Illusive Man in person, and you're saying you can't get into some files?"

"I'm not given free reign to every Cerberus operation. Classified operations, especially, are restricted to the leader of the cell and the Illusive Man himself. You think just anyone high in Cerberus' ranks would have access to Project Lazarus, to your records?" I scoffed at Shepard, my natural possessiveness sneaking into my voice. "Not without going through me first."

"It's not like blood pressure readings and budget reports are that valuable," Shepard said dismissively, easily distracted off our previous topic.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "On the contrary, some of the technology we used have exploitable weaknesses. With my knowledge of your anatomy, I could disable you in," I paused a moment to consider, "a few seconds, most likely."

Shepard looked at me blankly. "That is terrifying," she said.

Not one to be deterred, however, Jack pushed forward to interrupt.

"She just wants time to doctor the files to say what she wants," Jack accused.

"No, she won't," Shepard said before I could, defending me much to my shock. "Lawson can be…" Shepard fumbled for the right word, and I narrowed my eyes at her, "difficult, but I believe her."

I'd had more flattering descriptions, but considering where Shepard and I had started, her words were surprisingly amicable. I raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never came. Shepard just did her halfhearted little shrug and rubbed at the back of her neck, ignoring that Jack was looking at her with open disbelief.

"Is there a way to request authorization, Lawson?" Shepard asked, preemptively cutting off a chance for Jack to engage in what I'm sure would have been a very colorful rebuttal.

"I can try," I conceded crossly. But, really, what else could I say when Shepard had just defended me?

"Good," Shepard nodded, then turned to Jack. "We'll let you out now, but we'll keep your amp for a few days. Just until you can stop looking at me like you're imagining how much fun it'll be to murder me."

Jack rolled her eyes.

"Right, well, let's find you a place to sleep," Shepard offered.

Jack hopped off her bed when Shepard released the containment shields and shoved her finger in Shepard's face. "You better not cross me," she threatened. "And I want a deck far away from the Cerberus cheerleader."

I smirked at that, pleased I had already managed to get under her skin. Yet it quickly faded when Shepard turned back towards me with unbridled glee, no doubt ecstatic over there being a new nickname for me as well as a kindred spirit with whom to share them. I sighed, trying to ignore the fact that, instead of being annoyed, it rather just made me more fond of her.

XXX

I did try to get through the research notes, looking for something that would cause Shepard's cybernetics to react the way they were, but I couldn't settle at my desk. The skin on my stomach didn't roll right as I sat in my chair, and the extra fabric of my suit bunched in the wrong places. I'm uncomfortable in my own skin.

I reached in my desk drawer, pulling out a protein bar from the stash Shepard had acquired for me after my unfortunate meeting with Dr. Chakwas. I hated them. They were supposed to be craveable flavors like chocolate espresso and mint chocolate, but all it made me think of was too much sugar, I can't eat those, even when a look at the nutrition label told me they were sugar free.

With another disagreeable wiggle in my chair, I finally pushed myself out of it and repositioned myself in front of the bathroom mirror. I yanked down the front zipper of my suit revealing creamy perfect skin, but also the stark outlines of my ribs. I pinched at the skin there, pulling at it to try and made it look normal, but it was another set of ghost fingers that I felt.

He was pinching hard, fingernails digging into my skin so that I knew I would have two little crescent shaped marks there later as evidence of my latest disappointment.

"What is this?" Father asked, the only emotion coming not from his voice but from how his fingers dug even deeper at the skin on my ribs.

"I'm just not used to the changes with the biotics yet. I'm hungry all the time," I explained. Biotics had to eat more to make up for the extra calories they burned, but no one had ever warned me that I would want to eat my weight in carbs all day. It was only natural that I had gained just a little weight.

"Yet you've obviously gotten used to the food quickly enough," he mocked me. The sickly feeling of shame spread through my chest. "However, I have a present for you. You complained that our old cook wasn't to your satisfaction. Well, this is Caterina," Father introduced the dark, olive skinned woman with even darker eyes. Her lips were painted a deep red and set in a firm line that belied an ability to smile. "She will be your new dietician. Nothing will pass that mouth of yours without her express permission."

"I hardly think…" I began to argue with all the indignation of a child that could finally be called a teenager. It was just like Father to offer me a present wrapped in a catch.

"You know what will happen if you disobey," Father cut in, his voice lowering dangerously and dripping with disdain. "Do as I say, Miranda. No daughter of mine will ever be fat."

His fingernails finally left me, and I realized that I had scratched harsh red lines all the way across my prominent ribs in an attempt to get rid of the feeling of his fingers being there. I finally peeled back the wrapper of the protein bar I still held in my hand and took a bite, chewing past the awful dryness in my mouth. I tried to swallow, almost gagging on the mass that was supposed to taste like caramel fudge (not that I'd ever eaten such a thing to know the difference) before throwing it away from me in disgust. Nothing will pass that mouth of yours without her express permission, his voice mocked me again.

I tried to push it from my mind, walking back into the main room where the sight of the pillows stacked in the corner of my room reminded me of this morning's interrupted objective, and I pounced on the opportunity to do something useful.

Floating the pillows behind me, I walked past the questioning looks from the crewman just coming off the afternoon watch, also known as the third of the crew labeled Team Hydra, and kept my eyes firmly forward as I marched into the elevator.

Grunt wasn't in his little cargo room when I entered, strange but not overly so. He could be in the lower cargo hold; I'd noticed he enjoyed the combat simulator, even if just by making it display different settings. I made a mental note to see if I could download locations that might be more interesting to him and in the meantime, occupied myself with arranging the bedding I'd brought in a corner of the room.

I chose the back right corner, near Grunt's tank that he'd pushed flush against the back wall. The crates had been cleared out and restacked to give him more room, but Grunt had rearranged some of the stacks horizontally across the small room, losing much of the free space that had been gained by the original reorganization.

Grunt had explained that the crates were there to give extra cover in case he needed to fend off an attack. I had considered telling him how unlikely it was that he would need to defend this particular room instead of, say, engineering, but ultimately didn't. The arrangement made him feel more secure, and, well, that was fine.

The krogan came stomping into the room just as I'd finished draping the blankets I'd brought over the distribution of pillows. I turned in surprise; I hadn't heard the elevator.

Grunt looked at the makeshift bed with a exasperated chuff. "I said I was fine."

"And I ignored you," I stated. "Everyone deserves basic niceties. I'll arrange something better one we stop for supplies again."

He hummed in assent. "Well, thank you, Lawson."

"Don't call me that," I grimaced. "The only people who insist on using only my last name are Shepard and people who are trying to remind me of my father. Please, it's Operative Lawson or just Miranda."

"Miranda," he said, trying out the name. "I don't care about Cerberus titles."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Does it not bother you to be working with Cerberus? We have been described as terrorists and murderers," I said. Grunt laughed, and I continued on, not sure why I was intent on defaming myself and the organization. "I've tortured people, killed them for Cerberus' ideals."

It wasn't an overly large number of people, true, but I also didn't have an exactly count because I simply hadn't cared enough to keep track. I did what I needed to for my mission, and that was that. Many times it was either me or them, and I wasn't about to prioritize some stranger over myself.

Grunt, however, just seemed amused. "Why should I care? You were stronger, so you're alive."

I watched him blankly, not used to the casual indifference—no, seemingly real acceptance—that Grunt was offering. He didn't even seem to care why I'd done the things I had. Instead, he turned away from me and walked over to his new 'bed,' sitting down on it experimentally. Grunt eyed the area next to him, watching me expectantly as I dithered by the side.

I really hadn't planned on staying, thinking longingly of the solitude that awaited me upstairs, but eventually sank into the spot he'd motioned to. Grunt wiggled just a little closer to me, though whether it was from a misplaced sense of friendship or because he hadn't picked up on social boundaries yet, I wasn't sure. Surprisingly, though I clenched my jaw on instinct, the closeness wasn't uncomfortable, more...different.

"Is the Illusive Man your battlemaster?" Grunt asked, turning slightly to level his eyes at me. "I asked Shepard if she was your battlemaster, but she said you worked for the Illusive Man."

I'd heard the term 'battlemaster' once or twice; it was a uniquely krogan idea, so it was unsurprising that Okeer had included it in the tank training program.

"I do work for the Illusive Man, but I also work for Shepard. Can you have two battlemasters?" I asked. Grunt pulled back in shock, his lips pulling into a snarl.

"No," he said forcefully. "Your human hierarchy isn't the same thing. A battlemaster is someone you choose because they are the best and there is no one else you would rather fight for." His mouth twisted further into a disgusted grimace. "You cannot have two."

"Oh," I hummed thoughtfully. The Illusive Man, well, I believed in his ideals. Of course, I fought for humanity, but...no one else I would rather fight for? "Does one have to have a battlemaster?"

Grunt seemed more content at this question and shook his head. "It takes time to find the best," he explained.

I smiled softly to myself. "Then perhaps I have no battlemaster? Not yet, anyway," I replied, careful to keep my voice normal. It was easy to let my tone fall into something gentle and placating when talking to Grunt, but I reminded myself that he wasn't a child and shouldn't be treated as one.

"Me neither," Grunt allowed, nodding.

We shared a glance of mutual understanding, though something seemed to catch Grunt's attention through the window. I turned to see, but there was nothing there except—and perhaps it was just my imagination—a flash of something dark. I almost wanted to go see if I was correct, confirm someone had been there eavesdropping, but Grunt turned to me with an expression serious enough to present to the Council. I tensed slightly, expecting...Well, I'm not sure what I was expecting, but nothing good certainly.

"What do you know about sharks?"

Talk about mental whiplash. "Well, they...live in water. I've personally only seen a few off the coast where I grew up," I tried to answer just as seriously as Grunt sucked in my words."Why?"

Grunt scrambled up from the pillows and retrieved a datapad that had been resting on a nearby crate. He handed the datapad to me, so I could see the words displayed across the top of the screen, "The Old Man and the Sea."

"Shepard gave me this book," Grunt explained, tapping on the screen with emphasis. "And I want to know what sharks are."

I couldn't help but smile at such unbridled enthusiasm, the way he was almost bouncing on the pillows. However, even my knowledge had gaps, and I was woefully ignorant about sharks.

"What makes you think I would know about sharks?" I inquired slowly.

In a manner that would rival a teenager, Grunt's eyes stared at me flatly. "You said you were the perfect human. You should know things."

"Well, you're a perfect krogan, and you don't know about sharks either," I reasoned. Grunt frowned, but I turned to him suddenly with an idea. "Did that tank of yours teach you about the extranet?"

He shook his head, so I carefully reached out to take his left arm, his scales surprisingly soft to the touch. I pulled up his omni-tool navigation and connected it to the Normandy's extranet connection before presenting it back to him proudly, a browser screen already open.

"Alright, type in 'sharks,'" I instructed.

Grunt complied excitedly, grunting with open admiration as hundred of pictures of different species of sharks filled the screen. We stayed that way for a while, Grunt reading about sharks and me laughing at his reactions or explaining things he didn't understand. It was fun just to be down here with no crew members watching me, no one to comment on how odd it was that I would be spending time with the krogan. But it felt friendly, normal. Mostly it felt comfortable, even if just for a little while, and I wished I could thank my strange krogan teammate for this moment.

Eventually, I realized I had stayed much longer than I had ever intended, so I stiffly stood from sitting in our low position for so many hours. I said goodnight to Grunt and headed back to the third deck where I ran into Shepard with her usual nighttime snack in the mess. I held up a hand in acknowledgement.

"Up already?" I mused.

"No," Shepard said, shaking her head. "Never went to sleep. In fact…" Shepard reached beside her and pulled out my alarm clock, newly fixed. "...I had some time to take care of this. So you'd have it for tomorrow."

I took it from her, smiling faintly. I had planned on just using the alarm function on my omni-tool, but this was very thoughtful. I looked over at her.

"Thank you," I said earnestly. "But you should go to sleep."

"It's usually Garrus who comes out here to tell me to get my ass to bed. Good to know you can easily fill the role as well," Shepard joked. She pushed her plate towards me, presenting a strawberry frosted pastry that we kept on the ship specially for her. The sugar packed treat looked cheap and unappealing to me, but I'd made sure to buy more for her at every stop. "You want some?"

I tried not to grimace, once again thinking of all the sugar even as I was slightly curious about what they tasted like, but words from my most recent flashback—No daughter of mine will ever be fat—made an unwelcome appearance. I shook my head vehemently at her offer, though the moment allowed a realization I'd been unknowingly fighting against all day to crash through. It settled on my shoulders and forced me into the seat across from Shepard.

"You remember what you said to Jack? That as a member of the crew, she could make a request?" I preluded.

Shepard bent her head down in acknowledgement. "I remember. And I meant it."

"I could use a favor as well," I admitted, the reluctant confession dropping slowly from my lips

"Does this have to do with the...things...the doctor mentioned?" Shepard said eloquently.

I sighed. "Really, I thought you would have forgotten about that by now," I lied.

"I tried," she replied. I imagine she was joking, but the words gave a small sting all the same, "but Dr. Chakwas has been hounding me incessantly about it."

"And yet you managed to hold back all of your questions," I said dryly.

Shepard's gaze narrowed as she reached to rub her right shoulder. "I actually thought you'd find the questions invasive," she explained, barely meeting my eyes. "I was hoping you'd work it out yourself before I was forced to potentially offend you."

A smile snuck its way onto my face before I broke out into a sharp laugh. These were the moments that reassured me that her personality was correct, intact: it was such a Shepard thing to do.

"Avoid the problem until it goes away?" I ventured, still smirking. "It's too bad that wouldn't have worked on Sovereign."

Shepard shrugged back sheepishly. "Well Sovereign was huge and very hard to ignore properly. Plus he kept casually insulting me," she explained. "But back to the problem at hand: what did you need?"

"You remember what I told you about my father?" I began, and Shepard nodded. "Well he's become more aggressive in his search for Oriana, my sister. I had her safely hidden from him, but now I need to move her. Of course, my contacts should have it handled, but…"

"You'd feel better if you could handle it in person," Shepard finished for me. "I can see how that might have caused a lot of stress these few weeks."

The tone of her words pulled up just slightly on the end: a question, if I wished to answer it.

"Yes. This would ease my mind greatly," I admitted. Shepard's eyes told me she suspected there was more, and my eyes pleaded right back for her not to ask. I hoped she could tell that this was the only thing she could help with, that this would be enough. Oriana was the most important thing; my sister was everything.

"When?"

"Two weeks from now. On...Illium," I admitted slowly. Shepard's face paled—I imagined at the thought that her reunion with Liara was likely being hastened forward. I wasn't exactly excited by the idea either—but Shepard still nodded.

"We can be there," she said finally, and I sighed, already feeling lighter.

"Thank you, Shepard," I said with a faint smile.

"I should be thanking you. It took me until today to realize how much you take care of on this ship all by yourself," Shepard admitted. And it didn't sound grudging at all.

"It's my job," I replied automatically.

"Then thank you for doing it well," she added: seven words I never knew I needed to hear. Excellence from me was a given, but few remembered to actually thank me for it. Yet, with her simple sentiment, Shepard managed to pierce me through and through until I was just sitting there staring at her, dumbfounded.

"Goodnight, Miranda," Shepard murmured, so low it was almost a whisper as she stood to leave the mess.

My mouth stayed clamped shut as my heart shot into my throat. Shepard said my name. Not 'Lawson' or 'Victor' or 'Princess.' My name, like I was finally a person to her.

Do I say something? I felt out of my league; were it anyone else, I surely wouldn't have cared, never would have noticed. What would I even expect Shepard's response to be if I brought it up? You're welcome? I cringed at the thought, but I still wanted to say something, anything, that might acknowledge the moment when the chance was taken from me.

Both our omni-tools lit up, my left arm tingling slightly at the same time as Shepard's pealed out a loud bell, and they flashed an urgent message: a summons to a call from the Illusive Man.

XXX

Garrus

As soon as they cleared me for outpatient treatment, I was jumping into my clothes and running to the hospital elevator. In completely dignified turian military fashion, of course. The past few days had been excruciating hours of boredom where I rotated between sleeping and trying to find ways to entertain myself in the hospital bed. I had been allowed to walk around the hospital on my own yesterday, but even then, there was only so much to occupy myself with in a lobby of sick people. Finally, the doctor had allowed that I could finish resting on my own in a hotel room instead of taking up a hospital bed. For me that translated to freedom to roam the Citadel.

I checked into a decent, single bed hotel room in Kithoi Ward and dropped off my belongings, a small overnight bag Miranda had made up from the Normandy, before tottering through Edroki Plaza to the restaurants that surrounded it. I sequestered myself away in the corner the eatery's balcony, nestled in the shadow of the Council Central Archives while overlooking the famous Palaven Garden. I sighed in contentment: this was my favorite Ward on the Citadel.

I felt out of place, though, sitting here relaxing while Shepard was on the other side of the galaxy moving forward with our mission. I toyed with a glass of juice that I'd ordered. Maybe I'll just check my messages. See how they're doing.

The sudden clatter of a plate hitting the ground caught my attention before I could finish pulling up the messages on my omni-tool. A turian hurried away from the scene, navigating through the tables so fast I could only see the back of his fringe. I followed him with my eyes, something about him resonating with me. It was there, hidden right behind a fog in my head. He looked so familiar...Sidonis.

With a growl, I pushed out of my table as well, bowling through the area to try and catch him. I reached to my back, cursing when my hand felt nothing but my thin shirt. Of course you don't have your fucking gun, Garrus. You're in the middle of a Citadel restaurant. What were you going to do anyway? Shoot him over someone's tea? My sarcastic thoughts still sounded an awful lot like Shepard. Damn that woman for getting in my head.

I chased after Sidonis anyway, even knocking a full table over in my pursuit. The occupants protested as it tumbled to the side, spilling plates and food to the ground. A man tried to grab my arm, but I shook him off, going for the exit. Sidonis had already managed to slip through the doorway.

Bursting out after him, I tumbled into a small human woman, knocking her to the ground as I frantically scanned the surrounding crowd for my target. Sidonis was nowhere to be seen, already sucked into the lunchtime traffic of the Plaza. I clutched at my chest where it was burning after the sudden exercise, causing my hacking cough to come back for a few moments. Glad to see I'm following the doctor's orders to the letter. I kicked at the luggage the woman had dropped to the ground, growling lowly as I scanned the area with no success.

"Well, excuse you," the woman I'd run into said from the ground. Her voice had a distinct accent, though I wasn't familiar enough with human cultures to really place it.

"Sorry," I hastily offered once my breathing was back under control. It wasn't her fault I'd lost that traitor. I extended a hand to help her up, and she took it warily. I was weaker than I'd thought after my impromptu run, however, and pulling her up almost sent me to the ground as well. The woman gripped my arm in support, holding me up once she was on her feet.

She was dark skinned with even darker eyes, and she was wearing the distinct uniform of a member of the Alliance, though she didn't have the look of a soldier. A lab probably, I reasoned. Once I was steady, she reached for a suitcase I'd knocked from her grasp, and I grimaced apologetically.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" she asked, still looking mildly irritated as she brushed at her clothes.

"I…" My thoughts turned dark again at the mention of Sidonis, and I practically growled, "thought I saw someone I knew."

"Right," she scoffed. I wavered on my feet, light headed. "Can I help you get somewhere? You don't look very good."

"Maybe I could use a hand back to the hospital," I considered. Not like I could give that asshole what he deserves while I'm in this state anyway. But he was here: I have a lead. My mind wheeled with the new possibilities as the woman looked at me in alarm. Reminded of our conversation, I hurriedly reassured her, "I'm just recovering from an injury. My run was too much too soon."

She nodded thoughtfully, readjusted her grip on her suitcase—I did manage a twinge of guilt at the new dent I'd put in it with my earlier kick—and offered her arm, which I took again gratefully. I did try to put as little of my weight on her as possible, however. She was much smaller than me.

"What are you doing in Kithoi Ward?" I asked, hobbling stiffly as I tried to avoid irritating my chest more.

The woman glanced up at me and shot a quick look behind us as we crossed Edroki Plaza. "I had some research to complete in the Archives," she explained. I regarded her skeptically.

"With a suitcase?" I asked.

She frowned at me. "I remembered last minute. But I'm on my way out," she explained, nodding at her suitcase. She didn't offer any more or indicate where she was going.

"I'm Garrus," I offered, deciding not to pry more and insult my helper, "Garrus Vakarian."

The woman stumbled slightly, looking at me with wide eyes.

"The Garrus Vakarian?" she stuttered. "As in Commander Shepard's Garrus Vakarian?"

I narrowed my eyes at the possession but eventually nodded. "That's me," I confirmed. "And you are?"

Her back stiffened, and she smoothed at her uniform noticeably.

"Specialist Samantha Traynor," she said. "I work in one of the Alliance's technology labs back on Earth."

"Interesting," I hummed.

Samantha must have heard something in my tone because she hurried to continue, "I'm on leave. This was just a quick stop because the Archives don't allow remote access. I'm on my way to visit my parents."

We turned a corner together and stopped to hail a shuttle to take us over to Huerta Memorial. I thought she would leave me once it arrived and continue on her way, but Samantha crawled into the shuttle with me.

"I've heard about what you and the commander are doing," Samantha said into the quiet of the cab as it rose into the air. "I'm glad something is being done about the colony attacks. In fact, I'm on my way to Horizon to try and convince my parents to come to Earth with me. Until all this blows over, of course."

I flinched internally at that. If only she knew how bad this actually was, that this wasn't something that would just 'blow over.'

"That's a good idea," I agreed. "I hope they go with you."

"Are you not working with Shepard anymore? Is that why you aren't with her?" Samantha inquired.

"No, nothing like that," I assured her. "Just in recovery then I'll be back to fighting with her. I had even considered leaving today. Traveling on a transport would be restful enough that I'd be fine by the time I got to her."

"Are you perhaps going to be going the same direction?" Samantha inquired. I looked at her questioningly, and she flushed. "We could travel together."

Realization dawned on me. "You want to meet Shepard," I teased, surprisingly comfortable with her though we'd just met. She was rather mousy, her voice timid, but her grip had been like iron: I liked her.

"I'm sure anyone would want to meet Commander Shepard," Samantha stammered. She looked at me hopefully.

"I'm afraid it's almost the opposite direction, actually," I admitted, sad to disappoint her.

Our cab landed down with a soft thump, and Samantha helped me maneuver my way out of it without falling over. The neon sign of the hospital shone above us, and Samantha held a hand on the cab so it wouldn't go away yet.

"Oh, well, maybe one day," she said with a little shrug, trying to play it off.

"Maybe one day," I agreed. "It was nice to meet you, Samantha. Thanks for your help."

Samantha shook my outstretched hand and smiled. "I'm kind of glad you ran into me," she joked.

She waved goodbye as she slid back into the shuttle, heading off to whatever transport was going to take her to Horizon. I made my way into the hospital to get checked out, actually a little disappointed that I would probably never see her again.

My omni-tool lit up with a message, playing the distinct tone assigned to Shepard's messages.

Garrus,

We can't make a stop on the Citadel to get you; we've got a tip on a colony. Grab a shuttle and meet us at these coordinates. It's urgent.

Shepard

I looked at the location attached with the message and almost choked: Horizon.

Besides having a particularly hard time with this chapter (AKA completely rewriting it at one point), I hope everyone enjoys the final product! Now, I know some of the Mass Effect purists out there are gasping at the change to Jack's mission, but, honestly, I always felt like her breaking out and destroying the ship was an excuse for the game to show her skills and add fighting to the mission. Plus, Jack never had a choice to begin with: either Shepard buys her or Shepard has the only way off the failing prison ship. So I decided to address the ethical issues around Jack's recruitment this way (and really, what *would* Shepard have done if Jack didn't want to help?).

I'll also wager many of you never saw Samantha coming into this, but remember when she said she was on Horizon visiting her parents when the Collectors came? Yeah, the game should have given us more than just *that*, because that would've been scary as hell for her. Let's see what our favorite turian will do about that, shall we?

Just one announcement: though I've been decent about doing a chapter a month, I am moving to another state this week plus some job hunting, so the next chapter might be a little late :/ Sorry in advance.

Thank you to all of my readers, and I can't wait to hear what you all think!