There is a possible trigger warning for this chapter. There is minor drug use (the chemical from Samara's mission). It is in Garrus' section, so please be aware.

Chapter 20: Side Effects

Miranda

I awoke, still tired, to my alarm blaring at 0530. I turned without opening my eyes, reaching for my alarm clock out of instinct but not conscious enough to do anything but halfheartedly notice the unusual warmth lingering in the bed with me.

"EDI, status report," I mumbled out of habit.

"Thirteen crew members are at their stations. Crewman Patel has overslept and is among the ten crew members that remain asleep–"

"Wake her up," I interrupted. I waited a moment, my mind briefly registering that EDI was speaking to me more quietly than usual, though I didn't care enough to ask her why. "Continue, EDI."

There was something pressing against my throat, and I turned my head in irritation, cursing that I'd worn a shirt to bed last night. It always pulled tight with my restless sleeping.

"Biometric scans are within normal range for ninety-five percent of the crew. I have excluded Mr. Krios from this evaluation due my lack of a baseline for his health. Of the remaining five percent, an irregular emotional state has been detected in Jack, and you, Operative Lawson, continue to have unhealed injuries. Your presence is expected in the medbay upon beginning your day."

I mentally put visiting the medbay on my to-do list for the morning and shifted my hips to the right to get rid of the blanket that must have twisted between my legs in the night. The weight didn't move, and I could feel the crease developing between my eyebrows with my growing frustration, even as I kept my eyes closed like that might extend the moment before I had to get up.

"I have also rechecked the inventory," EDI continued to speak in the background, "and sent Crewman Mills a list of supplies to restock today, minus the items you requested to handle personally. The Normandy will be ready to leave port tomorrow morning."

I hummed a little in my throat at that. Leaving Nos Astra was going to be the best part of my week, I decided. But even as I did so, I frowned at the realization that there was something so very warm touching against my ribcage, and I couldn't place why it would be there.

"I have also continued to record Commander Shepard's sleeping habits, per your request. Detailed analysis may be accessed on your console. However, it is of note that this previous night cycle constituted the most hours of sleep she has gotten in twenty-six days. It is possible this anomaly is related to her location in your bed, though further data would be required to prove this assessment."

My eyes sprang open as my breath caught, staying trapped in my lungs as I slowly took in Shepard completely sprawled, face down, across my body, her face nuzzled into the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

"Thank you, EDI," I breathed out my customary response, now wary of waking Shepard as my entire body kicked into an unpleasant awareness that started with me noticing that one of Shepard's legs had been kicked over to tangle between mine, and her hand had found its way under my shirt and was tucked against my ribcage as she clutched me to her. Her lips pressed against my skin, and warmth pooled into my stomach with a rush.

My alarm rang again, and Shepard wiggled her hips forward until she was pressed completely against my side, grumbling a protest against my neck that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. I hurriedly reached out to pound the snooze button and was successful, but I knocked the appliance to the ground in the process. I scowled at it from where it blinked up at me from the floor, trying to ignore the fire that ran through my whole body.

Okay, what to do about this? I tried to pull Shepard's hand out of my shirt, but that only made her hold on tighter and press her knee up. I let out something dangerously close to a whimper and relaxed against my pillow. I knew I should have done a one-nighter that last time we were on the Citadel. The partner choices weren't always the best—I hadn't found a candidate with a clean medical record since our stop on Omega—but most times it achieved the desired result. Unlike this, where Shepard's body was touching against all the right places, but still I knew I needed it to stop. Shepard was asleep; she didn't know what she was doing.

I glanced down at the profile of her stubbornly sleeping face and pursed my lips. Last night felt like one large blur. I remembered her waking faithfully every four hours to ask me questions and check my head, but no where in there did I remember her getting so close.

I was apparently going to have to wake her up or just wait until she woke on her own, wherein we would have to deal with this...situation. I could only just see the peaceful expression decorating Shepard's face where it was burrowed into my neck, but it was enough to make me feel guilty about any attempt to wake her before she was ready. Not only did she get a patchwork sleep like me, but I knew her nights were plagued by nightmares that didn't let her sleep the whole night through on a normal basis, even if I hadn't noticed any last night.

Well, I could let my reports wait, and I didn't need to get dressed to send off my sister just yet. So I stayed still and let her hold me, deceiving myself into thinking I was a martyr and not actually enjoying this. Shepard's lips brushed against my neck again, and I sucked in a breath, willing my body to just bloody calm down as I rested my cheek just briefly against the top of her head and closed my eyes. Oh, Shepard, what are you doing to me?

The alarm rang again from the floor, and I grabbed it with my biotics and smashed it against the metal wall. I felt Shepard's eyelashes flutter against my collarbone, and I braced for the moment to come. Shepard would either mumble some other name, revealing who she was really dreaming about while clinging to me or just scramble away in horror. Because I had set up this perfect cliche all by myself, and that's how they always ended. For people like me, that is.

"Miranda?" Shepard asked throatily, and the heat went rushing right back to my core. She buried her face harder into my neck as the lights started to come on with all the movement. Her hand moved from my ribs to splay across my stomach, and electricity danced across my skin with it. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," I answered, keeping my tone cool. I didn't know what to do with my hands. Leaving them placed against her waist and the top of her back felt too intimate with her awake. Putting them on her shoulders felt awkward. I dropped them to the bed, feeling like a stiff doll.

Shepard made a disgusted noise in her throat and didn't move.

"I could really use the restroom," I said, which wasn't true, but the weight of her was actually getting painful for my ribs. And painful for other things as well. Still, Shepard didn't react at all, her response nothing but peaceful breathing flickering across my skin. "But that would require you to let go of me."

Shepard's head popped up suddenly, and she stared down at me, her eyes going wide as she took in our bodies tangled together. Her cheeks flushed, pink spreading over them before tinging the tips of her ears.

"Oh, shit, wow," she stuttered. Chagrined, she pulled her hand from my stomach, and her face turned an even deeper shade of red when she pulled my shirt back into place for me before she rolled back to her side. "I promise I had no intentions of assaulting you while you were sleeping."

"It was nothing," I said with a shrug, sliding out of my bed away from her so I wouldn't give anything away with my face. I was still surprised at her reaction, at its lack of anger or frantic panic.

Shepard opened her mouth like she was going to say something but bit her lip instead, so I turned my back to her and walked to my now very scarce closet to grab a clean uniform, brushing some lint off the black cloth before grabbing my boots.

Shepard made a disgusted noise behind me, and I frowned, glancing back at her over my shoulder.

"How is it even possible that you look like that after just waking up?" Shepard asked, pulling a pillow over her face. "And I know you heal fast, but geez, your face isn't even swollen anymore from yesterday."

"Would you rather it was?" I asked, my eyebrows dropping down. I brushed my fingers along my face, tracing the faint line that I could still feel on my cheek and forehead, significantly healed from the gashes they'd been yesterday.

"No, of course not." Shepard scowled at me from around her pillow.

"I see someone isn't a morning person," I mocked.

"Like you didn't know that already. Also, save your judgement until after you find all the pieces of your broken clock," Shepard growled, muffled against the pillow. "I'm not fixing that again."

I smiled at the lump that was her body buried under the covers and disappeared into my bathroom, sliding the door carefully shut behind me. I brushed my teeth, cleaned my face, and applied the barest touches of makeup to cover the still healing pink lines. Then I re-wetted my hair, applied product, and began blowing it out, carefully arranging the light waves around my face and shoulders.

All in all, I thought I'd provided plenty of time for Shepard to take the easy option of escape from my bedroom.

I finally turned and went back to the doorway, faltering before going through. Shepard was still curled up beneath my blankets, a mess of dark auburn hair poking above the top of the covers that rose and fell steadily once more. It was suddenly much harder to stamp down the affection that had begun to glow every time I looked at her.

The sound of my office door unlatching grabbed my attention before it whirred open, and I walked all the way out of the bathroom as Shepard moaned what sounded like 'no' loudly into the blankets.

"Miranda, you said we could talk this morning before we had to go and...oh–" she stopped herself, eyebrows flying up as she caught sight of the person sized piled of blankets on my bed. "I'm so sorry. Everyone said it would be fine for me to come in. I didn't realize…"

I smiled at her, schooling my features until outwardly I was calm and collected. There is nothing strange happening here. Everything is fine.

"That's just Shepard," I explained, putting emphasis on the 'just.' "You weren't interrupting anything; she only needed a bed last night."

"Oh, right…" Oriana replied, trailing off when Shepard stumbled out of the bed, her feet thumping loudly against the floor. Her legs were a distracting expanse of bare skin as she fumbled for the pants she'd kicked off last night and ran a hand through her disastrous hair. Then she walked straight to my closet and traded her shirt for one of mine, the material stretching over her much larger shoulders. My jaw dropped in disbelief.

Oriana narrowed her eyes, and I smiled at her with raised eyebrows. "Breakfast?" I asked.

"That would be great," Shepard answered instead, walking up to us. My office door opened for her, but she paused then turned back around, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me to her. She brushed a kiss against my cheek, and I flinched back in shock. "I'll get the coffee if you get me some pancakes, honey." She winked at me as she walked out the door.

"Just Shepard, huh?" Oriana said suspiciously.

I stared after her, my skin on fire where her lips had touched. "I...She...Let's just get some food," I spat out eventually, ignoring that my heart was racing and that at least a few of the crew members already sitting down in the mess had seen.

My sister and I went through the breakfast line, and Shepard seated herself at one of the tables with the coffees, as promised. I sighed and grabbed her the pancakes she asked for, which had Oriana grinning at me.

"Honey?" I hissed in her ear once I'd slid in next to her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You just made it so easy," she whispered back, "stuttering to explain what I was doing in your room. I couldn't help myself."

"I do not stutter," I hissed back, sipping my coffee to cover my mouth.

"Oh, but you did." Shepard winked at me before turning her attention to my sister. "Glad to see you taking the discovery of your genetic twin so well. I, for one, can only be happy that such a beautiful smile exists in duplicate," Shepard said with a genuine smile of her own. I almost choked on my coffee.

Oriana looked pleased even as she rolled her eyes. "You're certainly less scary without the glowing eyes," she replied.

"Oh." I jolted in remembrance and covered Shepard's hand with my own before I remembered myself and pulled away. Shepard, on her part, never flinched at my touch, and I filed the deviation away to contemplate later. "I almost forgot about that. We'll need to do updated scans."

"Oh, look at the time, I have to disappear somewhere for no apparent reason. With these pancakes," Shepard said with a smirk, hopping up from the bench. "Were you cleared for our mission later?"

I looked to check that Dr. Chakwas was safely ensconced in the medbay with the door closed.

"Well if someone were to override the doctor's orders and give me medical clearance for the day…" I trailed off suggestively with another glance towards Chakwas. My clearance was the only one I didn't have access to, and without access or someone to override it, my personal gear locker would remain locked, though emergency weapons were still available, of course.

Shepard narrowed her eyes at me then jammed a finger into my side. I hissed as she made contact with my still bruised ribs.

"That's a no," Shepard said, lips curling into another infuriating smile as she sauntered off. "I'll see you two soon."

With the absence of our buffer, Oriana and I sat looking at each other in silence for a moment, uncomfortable. I twisted my hands under the table. I didn't know how to act around family other than my father, and he was easy because I automatically defaulted to trying to kill him.

Then Oriana gave me the smallest smile, and the tension broke. I motioned for Oriana to hold out her omni-tool, and I typed in my personal contact information. I held her hand gently for a second more after finishing.

"My address, just like I promised. You can contact me anytime you need me," I assured her.

"Will I ever get to see you again?" she asked. She twisted her hands in front of her. "It's just...It might be nice for you to visit. In person. We could get to know each other."

I wavered on the automatic answer. After all, we hadn't been calling this operation a 'suicide mission' for nothing.

"When this is over, I would love to come visit you," I replied, careful to avoid binding words like 'promise.'

"Good," Oriana said, adding a smile that seemed to curl up as naturally for her as breathing. I wished I could say the same. "Well, there's some time yet. Why don't we start with where you were born? You have an accent."

I blinked at her, surprised, as I realized she wasn't preparing to rush off the ship as quickly as possible. She sat comfortably in her seat, hands wrapped around a mug while she stared at me expectantly. In short, she was trying to draw the conversation out. A pleasant warmth glowed in my chest at the final conclusion: Oriana enjoyed my company. That wasn't something I could say very often.

I picked up my drink and readied myself for a barrage of questions while I thought of a few of my own. After all, it was my last half hour with my sister, and it might very well be a long time before I could see her again.

XXX

Garrus

The mission to recruit the Justicar was a cakewalk (even though I wasn't entirely sure why humans used that term cakewalk. Shepard had explained it to me once, but I still didn't understand the purpose of walking in a circle to get some cake. Did the humans not have these things in their stores?). We'd dealt with the police around the spaceport easily enough, and our biggest obstacle was the Eclipse mercs roaming the back alley of this crime scene. However, this faction was known more for their smuggling—they were operating out of a spaceport after all—and I recognized the fumblings of raw recruits and those that hadn't had to handle a gun in a long while among most of the Eclipse teams we encountered.

Yet, as simple as the fighting was, I wagered one of us was still going to end up in a medbay today. And that person was a persistent quarian named Tali.

"Could we please stop talking about this?," Shepard growled, dropping into cover behind some piled up shipping crates.

"Talking? Who's talking? Not you certainly," Tali rejoined from a few meters away.

"I remember the missions with the first Normandy being so much quieter," Shepard grumbled.

"That's because you were broody," Tali replied. She threw an arm forward, pointing out the last enemy for her drone, before coming back to the conversation. "This is what friendship sounds like."

"Annoying and invasive?" Shepard asked, raising an eyebrow as she surveyed the cleared out hallway. "I much prefer Garrus' version: standing there. Silently."

"That's because you two never talk about how you're feeling," Tali argued.

"That's not true. Shepard and I could talk about feelings," I protested. Shepard grimaced at me and I amended, "Okay, maybe not."

"Look, I gave you a day because of all that was happening yesterday–" Tali continued, jogging to catch up to Shepard, who was already stepping over the Eclipse merc bodies and storming forward through the shipping area.

"Oh, you mean the part where one of our squad was kidnapped and almost brutally murdered?" Shepard snapped.

"I'm not sure why you're so worked up over that. That's practically a normal day for you, and she's fine," Tali retorted. "What's not fine is you refusing to talk about you and Liara. I understood on the ship because you don't want Cerberus listening, but I, however, am your friend whom you've told absolutely nothing."

"You'd know even less if you hadn't been eavesdropping," Shepard growled. Her breath huffed noisily through the comms as we sidestepped around a corner and began jogging up the stairs.

"I just can't believe you let her break up with you. After all, you apparently proposed marriage to her two years ago," Tali replied, putting her hands on her hips. "And you didn't even bother to mention it."

"What? Marriage?" I blurted out, looking between the two.

Shepard scowled, a dangerous glint to her eyes. "If I had ever actually proposed to Liara, I would have told you," Shepard answered finally, jaw locked tight. "There was no proposal. Just me failing to talk about where our future was going, which is, apparently, nowhere. Are you happy now? Will you leave it alone?"

Any response from Tali was cut short as Shepard held a fist up to signal a stop. She slowed as she approached a corner, leaned around to see, and held up three fingers to indicate the number of enemies.

I frowned. Crime scene or no, the Illium police didn't have the resources to put a check on the powerful group's movements, so we'd been fighting our way through to contact our potential new squadmate, the asari Justicar Samara. However, for a Justicar supposedly assisting the police in the investigation of this crime, she had left no small number of mercenaries alive behind her. Or perhaps the Eclipse mercs had known better than to mess with her, though, sadly, that common sense hadn't been extended to us.

The newest bunch of mercenaries was easily dispatched, and we moved on. Shepard led, naturally, followed by myself and Tali, and a strangely quiet Jack brought up the rear. The surly biotic was, at least, finally outfitted in proper gear, however, so I attributed her silence in part to being forced to wear armor that she wasn't used to. Or maybe something was actually bothering her, but she and I had worked out a strict don't-talk-to-me-unless-necessary policy that I had no plans to break. I didn't relish the thought of another visit to the medbay, after all.

But Jack was warming up to me. I could tell.

Meanwhile, Shepard hit the latch on the door ahead of us, and we were greeted to the sight of an asari in Eclipse armor hurtling through the air to land on the ground near us, followed by another asari that could only be Samara. She cut an impressive figure in her tight red suit as she followed her quarry, and she landed out of a biotically controlled drop with a grace I didn't think was possible in the heeled boots she was wearing. Maybe she used her biotics for more than just the biotic flying thing she was pulling off there.

"Tell me the name of the ship," Samara insisted, standing over the prone mercenary.

The merc looked up at the Justicar in defiance, but the expression was met with stony indifference. Samara extended an elegant arm, letting her wrist relax until the moment biotics rippled around her. Her hand clenched, and her fingers bent like claws while ribbons of biotics circled the mercenary's body. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before: the biotics flowed out as a strange reddish violet color. Then, instead of ribbons, the biotics thinned and stretched until I recognized they were overlaying every nerve in the asari merc's body.

Samara curled her fingers further, and the biotic tendrils lit up. The mercenary screamed.

"Holy shit, she can reave," Shepard muttered next to me.

"One last opportunity to tell me," Samara said, loosening her fingers again. The biotics dimmed, and the merc relaxed against the ground.

"She'll hurt me in ways you can't even imagine. And it's death either way, so you might as well get this over with," the mercenary spat.

"Find peace in the embrace of the Goddess," Samara replied. She closed her fist fully, and her biotics relit in a bright flash. The mercenary's neck went slack, and her head rolled to the side, blood dripping from her nose.

Samara looked up at our group, then past us to the bodies strewn behind the doorway we'd just walked through.

"We seem to have a common enemy," she said shortly. "But you have not put away your weapons. So, are you friend or foe?"

"Friends, definitely. We're here to find you. I'm hoping to recruit you for my mission." When Samara simply stared back, Shepard continued to explain, "We're working to save thousands of human colonists from a race called the Collectors." She looked over her shoulder and nodded to Tali and Jack, and they turned to cover the door.

Samara considered us, her eyes running along the two humans, a quarian, and a turian.

"A noble goal, and one I might be happy to assist with. But abandoning my investigation is against the Code; I cannot leave without first discovering the name of the ship my quarry left on. If the trail goes cold, I might never find her," Samara disclosed.

"So you're willing to help me if I help you?" Shepard clarified.

"Yes," Samara answered.

"Well, then. Where to?"

"The only option left to me is to infiltrate the Eclipse base. However, I have no means to access the door, and resistance will be heavy inside. I have also displeased the local police force with my presence here," Samara explained.

Shepard gave a sheepish shuffle of her feet. "Don't worry about the police. I 'arrested' Detective Anaya under Spectre authority for the next hour so she would leave us alone without disobeying orders. Off to the base then?"

Samara stared at Shepard for a moment but then nodded and fell in with our group as we backtracked through the alleys the way we'd come. We moved faster than before, relatively confident in the safety of the area, though Shepard still slowed and did a quick sweep anytime we approached an unsecured exit.

"So Liara wants to speak to you before you leave…" Tali instigated as we moved forward, and I sighed at her stubbornness. Shepard's patience was surely at its end. I didn't actually think she would shoot Tali to get her to be quiet, but I could guarantee she was seriously considering it if the sneer on her face was any indicator.

"Are you monitoring my messages as well?" Shepard exclaimed, scowling at Tali. The commander looked over at Samara. "Typically, we like to make a good impression on the people we're recruiting, Tali. Not scare them away by talking about my personal problems."

"So you admit there's a problem!" Tali replied triumphantly.

Jack growled from my right side, probably as tired of this conversation as I was. "The only fucking reason Shepard isn't upset is because she already moved on," the biotic grunted.

"What? I haven't," Shepard denied, her shoulders freezing in place. "But I did have two months of Liara not contacting me when she could have. I can connect the dots. I was expecting this. That's all."

"So that wasn't you leaving the cheerleader's bedroom this morning? And kissing her on your way out?" Jack countered, crossing her arms as she walked. "The two engineering idiots were talking about it on the stairs."

"You didn't…" I muttered, and Shepard held her palms out towards me in protest.

"That is being taken completely out of context," Shepard contested.

"So you didn't kiss her?"

"I...did." She paused with a scowl. "Stop talking," Shepard growled.

We'd arrived at the Eclipse base door, and Shepard pressed her omni-tool to the latch and remotely connected EDI to the system. EDI set to hacking through the security while Shepard pressed her back to the metal of the door and held her gun loosely in front of her, military training teaching to always be wary even though it seemed that the only people around were a few civilians.

"So, uh, how did she react?" I asked Shepard quietly while we waited.

Shepard glared at me in clear exasperation. "Like I embarrassed her in front of her sister, which was the point," she replied. "And also like she wasn't interested, so you can just get that idea out of your head, Garrus."

Jack snorted. "Or the cheerleader doesn't know how to react to things like a human being. Cerberus probably handed her an instruction manual on how to have emotions and then sent her out into the world."

"Or this is an important mission, and Miranda knows how to be a professional. Something you could learn a little something about," Shepard warned, but the tattooed biotic just scowled back.

"Not fucking likely. I'm not even sure why we didn't trade her for her sister while we had the chance. Same great tits without the attitude that makes me want to punch her in the face," Jack continued.

"Among other things," Shepard added with a raised eyebrow, earning another scowl. "I think the fact that you like Miranda's twin but not Miranda says something, but I'm just not sure what that is."

"Fuck off with your analyzing shit, Shepard," Jack replied.

"Wow, pulling out the big words today," Shepard retorted with a smirk that Jack rolled her eyes at.

I work with children, I grumbled in my head, staring at the two of them while the door to the Eclipse base finally slid open, and the five of us prepared our weapons for the wave of Eclipse sisters that would surely respond to the security breach. We didn't have to wait long, but with Tali and myself overloading weapons and the three powerful biotics wiping up the rest, the LOKI mechs and accompanying mercenaries went down easily.

Shepard crouched next to a nearby crate with chemical hazard marks decorating the sides.

"What are these you think?" Shepard asked the group at large.

"It is a chemical called Minagen X3. It enhances biotic powers but is toxic in high doses," Samara offered. "The volus who sold it to Eclipse neglected to mention that fact. By the Code, his life is forfeit should we come across him."

Shepard shrugged and cut open the box with her omni-tool. She held up a vial of red powder, inspecting it in the light, before popping the tab on the top and pouring a small amount into a slot on her omni-tool. After a few seconds, her omni beeped at her, and Shepard nodded.

"EDI found some records. Looks like bad things don't happen unless you take more than two grams in an hour," Shepard reported.

Then she poured the powder out on her hand, looked up at me with a smirk, and inhaled sharply before I could protest. Her pupils went large.

Well, let's hope there aren't side effects we don't know about.

"Holy shit," she breathed, her biotics wrapping around her more vibrantly than usual.

"Well don't hold out," Jack complained, taking the vial from Shepard and sniffing up the chemical herself. She grinned maniacally and held a fist out towards Shepard, the letters D-E-A-T visible across her fingers while she hid the H on her thumb. "Let's go fuck some shit up."

Shepard smirked back and knocked her fist against Jack's once she'd stood from her crouch. The two of them led the way forward, their overpowered biotics making quick work of any Eclipse we ran across in the hallways until finally, after taking care of a gunship and a crazy drugged volus that tried to block our path, our team reached the innermost area of the base.

We killed the ten mercenaries that awaited us inside, and Samara held the Eclipse captain with her reaving abilities until the asari directed us to the shipping manifest on her desk. The Justicar seemed content with what she read there, and then she waited patiently with me while we watched Shepard and Jack attempting to biotically carry as many crates of the Minagen X3 as they could.

"Can you teach that? Reaving?" Shepard asked, strolling up to us finally with five crates trailing behind her.

Samara arched an eyebrow. "To you?" she clarified. "No."

Shepard looked so surprised that the crates wavered in the air behind her. "Because I'm human, or…?"

"Because you lack the focus," Samara stated. "You have power, but not the control reaving requires."

"You have to admit, focus is not one of your strong suits, Shepard," Tali chimed in, perching on the desk next to me.

Shepard stared at Samara for a moment longer, but then she nodded with a frown. "That's why my instructors said my singularities were so weak. I was pulled from adept training almost immediately," she added as the five of us began the trek out of the base and to our shuttle. Luckily no one decided to ask too many questions of our odd group and our obviously stolen crates as we crossed the plaza.

"That is not to say that the skills you possess are not to your credit. You are excellent at what you already have and a very proficient vanguard from what I have seen," Samara said.

"I bet Miranda could do it," I mused as we climbed into the shuttle. Shepard and Jack stacked their crates in around us, careful that nothing would fall and break.

"Why are we still talking about her?" Jack grumbled, disappearing into the cockpit with the shuttle pilot and slamming the sliding door shut behind her.

Shepard raised an eyebrow at the closed door but nodded to me. "She probably could," she agreed. She looked at the asari sitting across from her. "If you would be willing to teach?"

"With the right student," Samara allowed with a smile. "I find I'm looking forward to traveling with companions again, and it has been a long time since I've had the opportunity to pass on my knowledge. However, you should be warned that to reave, one must be able to put aside all other thoughts. To be only in the present and fixate only on the target. It is not something many can do easily."

XXX

Miranda

The quiet hours of Shepard's absence, which I'd designated to be spent in my office working—late reports from my injuries yesterday, inventory checks before leaving a port, various personnel files with new notes from Miss Chambers—were quickly wasted. A heavy cloud had settled to swirl around my mind until every accomplished thought had to be forcibly wrenched out, reluctant and soaked, from its midst. Even sitting in my desk chair, fingers stretched in front of me prepared for a task, did nothing to bring clarity to the fog around me until I found almost an hour gone with nothing attained but my staring at the blank expanse of my wall.

Without the distraction Oriana had offered this morning, my skin was itching at the press of fingers I could still sense at the back of my neck, no matter how many times I reached to brush a palm against my amp to ensure nothing was there. I have even pulled open my left desk drawer and retrieved a hair tie, gathering the dark strands and securing them off of my neck in an attempt to help dispel the sensation, but with no success.

Again, I pressed two fingers on the warm metal of my replaced biotic amp when a shiver rippled down my spine. The amp had been disinfected, of course, by Chakwas and thoroughly inspected it for damage before reinserted. There is nothing wrong with it. Yet, I could still feel fingernails edging underneath the sides of the piece, ready to rip it away again. Just something wrong with me then.

I snatched my hand away from my neck and slammed it against my desk, the tingling pain a welcome distraction. I finally reached behind and gently wriggled the device out of its port, sighing when it was gone, and set it down on my desk. The small metal square seemed to mock me in its new location, so I shoved it into a drawer before leaning on my elbows, rubbing at my temples.

"If you allow yourself to become dependent—on a gun, biotics, strength, or even other people—it will hurt when they're taken away," Father said, circling around me.

"I hardly need them," I replied with all the confidence of a teenager. "I have intelligence to make up for it. That can't be taken away."

Ice blue eyes narrowed but continued to circle. "I wouldn't be so sure," he answered. "But, yes, your brain will allow you to overcome most handicaps." He paused in his pacing and cupped my cheek softly with a smile. "I'm so proud of your progress. You know that?"

I leaned into the touch, starved for the affection, and he brushed his thumb along my cheek with a smile. Happiness glowed in my chest, even as I hated myself for wanting it. I hated him. I loved him. Most days I wasn't sure which feeling was which.

"Does that mean…?"

"I've already said no," Father snapped, pulling the hand away. "I'm already allowing you to go to this year's gala. Is nothing I give you good enough?"

"I simply wanted to meet people my own age. Not your business associates," I replied, my frown growing at the absence of the, for once, gentle contact.

"They are not my business associates. They're ours," he said, patting my shoulder as his voice softened once more. "This is what you've been training for. You'll carry the Lawson name on. Continue my legacy. Starting with the business."

He reached for me, easing out my biotic amp from my neck with surprising care, and I stood taller. He patted at my cheek absently and twirled the device along his fingers before pointing at a square, wooden crate that was the only object today in the mansion's training room. Father lifted the lid to show it filled to the brim with metal weights.

"Now that you're done thinking of nonsense, your task for the day is to lift this," he ordered.

I glowered at him. "Impossible without my biotics," I argued.

"Do it anyway," he ordered and left the room, allowing the door to snap shut behind him.

Of course, I marched straight to the crate, examining it with the seriousness of a volus with a banking statement. I concluded the crate must be a trick, that there was some clever solution if only I found it. Yet, the wooden crate filled with fist-sized squares of metal was just as it seemed: heavy. I crouched and tried to pull on it, just for the sake of it, and didn't manage to budge the beast even a centimeter off the ground.

It took hours for me to admit defeat, dragging my feet to Father's study to inform him I'd failed. The moment the words fell from my lips, his face snapped into something harsh and more recognizable, whatever tenderness that had occurred earlier wrested from my grasp with an ease akin to a wave curling onto the sand, erasing whatever flights of fancy had been written there.

"Never did I say you couldn't leave the room to find something to make it work," Father replied cooly. He stood from his desk, clasping his hand down on my shoulder and clenching it painfully while he led me back through the doorway. "So eager to please, you forgot about the brain you spoke of so proudly." His lip curled.

"I'll go work on it again," I stated, but the hand on my shoulder held me still until it prompted me in the other direction.

"Failure was not one of your options," he answered, the words snapping out like a whip. "Life doesn't give second chances. Go back to your books; we're done for the day."

"That's why he had me drugged," I murmured, still staring at the amp as I came back to myself.

Father had known exactly how to hurt me, naturally, by closing the exact loopholes he had been the one to teach me to see. He made sure they took my biotics and compounded the hurt by fogging my brain with drugs, making a point of taking the one thing I'd thought he couldn't. And all the while, he'd been waiting to pour salt in the wound with Niket's betrayal. It was almost like yesterday had been another one of his tests, one I certainly would have failed without Thane's timely appearance and Shepard's backup.

It was a shame Father hadn't shown up in person on Illium. I could have constructed a pulley system and hung him instead of that bloody crate. I, at least, would have enjoyed seeing him choke on the irony.

And just maybe if Father had been there in person—or if events had played out ever so slightly different—I would have had the chance to deal with Niket myself. His betrayal ate at me, and I didn't even have the chance to ask him why he'd done it.

He'd been a friend, a confidante, and was, quite frankly, the only person from my old life that I'd remained in contact with, not to mention the only one during that time who had been my age. Even on the days I hated him, it was Niket or nothing, additional friends being the one thing Father had always denied me. Even Niket himself had only been a concession to a tutor who expressed concern about my social development.

And so it began: an awkward boy whose family was likely paid for him to live in the mansion and be my friend. I stole kisses because there was no one else to give me my first kiss and led him to my bed by the same reasoning. He was easily manipulated, not just by my father but by me, and I'd wrapped him so thoroughly around my finger that I'd thought he would never chose my father over me. I suppose I'd been wrong about that.

Then again, Shepard said she'd gotten a message from my omni-tool that I hadn't sent. The obvious explanation was that it had been Niket, that that was what the Eclipse mercenary had meant when she said Niket had tipped Shepard off. But changing his mind at the last second doesn't negate the harm he did in the first place: revealing Oriana's location. I might have killed him myself for that.

I stood from my desk, bashing my thighs against the edge in my haste. Desk work would have to be completed later; it was obvious I needed new direction if I wanted to be at all productive before the day was out. I grabbed the tablet I'd been sketching designs on and brought it with me as I relocated to the lab.

I found the Normandy's salarian scientist hunched over the main lab table, maneuvering a pair of tweezers on a pinned Collector seeker swarm insect with the help of a large, suspended magnifying glass. Mordin was still, movements more tightly controlled than I'd yet seen from him as he worked.

"Dr. Solus," I said to gain his attention. "Do you have a moment?"

"Of course, Operative Lawson," he agreed, following my trend of formality and carefully setting his tools aside. He leveled his gaze at me. "What do you need?"

"Shepard requested that you expand upon these designs for a muscular microfiber weave, correct?" I confirmed, pulling up the file in question on my omni-tool for visuals.

"Yes. Am in process of constructing it," he said then let out a long-suffering sigh. "Wouldn't be necessary if upgrades included in original reconstruction."

I narrowed my eyes at him, frowning at the return to the same argument Mordin refused to let go of. No matter how many times I explained that we wanted to bring Shepard back with only minor modifications, the doctor didn't seem to understand. Cerberus wanted the commander, not a robot with Shepard's brain, otherwise why would I have bothered making her human at all? I could have given her a titanium skeleton and used a 3D printer to print organs out of composites much sturdier than human tissue. Better yet, I could have done away with organs completely.

Then, she wouldn't be human, and Shepard needed to be human, needed to be alive. More importantly, I believed she needed her real body, which was why I painstakingly slaved over every detail, barring the re-infliction of her old scars. I believed she wouldn't have survived waking up in anything else: the shock could have broken her.

Or maybe I give her too little credit. Perhaps she would have embraced having a robotic body. I still highly doubted it, and I was in too poor of a mood to make the same arguments with Mordin for a fifth time.

"I would like to incorporate my own design of the microfibers into the upgrade," I began, ignoring when he frowned. "Minor adjustments." I slid the tablet I'd brought in front of Mordin on the table and flicked the images upwards so they displayed in a three dimensional projection. "Many of the major muscle attachments are also sites of cybernetic concentrations, which, I'm sure you've noticed, are acting irregularly. I've also gotten reports that they're giving off a lot of heat."

"Many based on untested technology. Should design new implants based on new data," Mordin suggested.

The corners of my lips curled at his accurate prediction. "Just so," I agreed with a nod. "But that will take us time. Several weeks optimistically." I pulled up a body model of Shepard and filtered it by her cybernetics and muscle groups. "In the meantime, I propose a stopgap. We include extra 'bundles' of microfibers at the attachment sites so they serve a dual purpose towards insulation of the cybernetics."

"Protect surrounding tissue from heat," Mordin mused out loud in agreement. "Minimal effects on integrity of fibers throughout muscles in original design. Agreed." He brought his fingers to his chin and allowed a small frown. "Not an option for facial cybernetics."

I cropped the projection to just Shepard's head and enlarged it, spinning it to the side. "Which is why we'll build new versions of these first. Jaw implant is of lower importance. Eyes should have high priority. I can't risk her losing healthy tissue and going blind."

"Assuming you tried 'growing' eyes before cybernetics?" Mordin queried, staring hard at the projection.

"Yes," I confirmed, jaw tightening at the slight condescension in his tone even while I appreciated having a peer to work with. I'd forgotten what other scientists could be like. "The nerve regeneration was unsuccessful multiple times, with various methods. They simply wouldn't take. I was forced to replace the nerves with corresponding cybernetics, though the rest is human tissue."

"Have colleague who discovered enhanced nerve regeneration facilitated by…" Mordin trailed off before bustling to his nearby console. "Will retrieve notes. May be applicable to humans."

And with that, it was like I could finally take in a full breath, the cold, recycled air of the ship filling my lungs all at once and blowing full articulation into my thoughts, stripping it of the fog that had surrounded it. Mordin came back to my side, placing the downloaded notes in front of me, and together, we tossed out ideas, a difficult thing to keep up with when dealing with a salarian. We took turns moving the projection of Shepard's eyes back and forth to suit our needs, motioning dramatically at different parts when our discussion dissolved into a full-blown argument.

It was, however, a productive argument, of the kind only scientists could have and not be offended by the other party's adamant refusal to concede to a point. Back and forth we went, until I seized on something he said, and the conversation turned, becoming that of excited discovery.

"Yes, and if we–" I pointed.

"Precisely! Would need different–"

"–materials, of course," I finished for him. "But this is very possible. Her eyesight may not even deteriorate with age, if this works."

Mordin nodded. "Even cybernetics would have needed to be replaced eventually. Hard on human body."

"Not all of them. But on delicate eye tissue, yes," I allowed.

"You should also consider evaluating the commander's shoulder," Thane slid into the conversation, and I only just managed not to flinch in surprise. I blinked at him, glancing between the drell's position at the corner of the table and the still closed door. I hadn't even heard him enter.

"Why?" I asked Thane finally, studying his blank face and passive posture.

Thane stepped easily over until he stood across from Mordin and me, joining like he'd always been there. Thin fingers reached up and spread out to zoom in on the joint in question on the projection.

"Shepard favors her right shoulder. It may be pain or just minor discomfort. A skilled assassin would target it first. Indeed, any observant enemy may notice it and exploit the weakness," Thane explained.

I frowned, irritated by the news, even though it was helpful. Shepard never said anything, and scans had shown no injuries in that area.

"Thank you," I replied, the words forming haltingly through lips unused to forming the phrase. I made a note for that to be addressed next, and Thane gave a slight nod while the silence stretched as I typed.

"The commander's overall reconstruction...impressive," Mordin said, breaching the quiet and staring away from me to the projection.

I narrowed my eyes. "A compliment from you? That, I didn't expect."

"Personally, could have done better," Mordin replied, followed with a small smile when my lips twitched closer to a frown. "But not by much," he conceded.

That was...hm. Condescending, yes, but coming from Mordin, who frequently treated topics as if he had the last word on what was or wasn't correct, it was practically a glowing commendation. I had never deluded myself into thinking I needed validation in order to be proud of my work, but it was certainly welcome.

I gave a sharp nod: the work had been a great accomplishment. His admiration was only expected, though I considered him with shrewd eyes. It wouldn't be so awful to get other opinions. Occasionally.

"What would you have changed?" I asked.

The salarian brightened considerably, launching into explanations that he illustrated with gesticulations to the projected model of Shepard. It took only one sentence for me to regret opening the conversation to his criticisms, but I leaned on the table and listened. I nodded when he made a good point and veiled my disagreement with a thinning of my lips when he was obviously wrong. Thane occupied himself to the side with his arms crossed over her chest, though I could have sworn he smiled every time I frowned.

"If you three missed me that much, you could have just called me on the comms. The full-body model is a little excessive," Shepard quipped as she broke into the room, back from the mission already.

My body acted in direct contrast to the levity in her voice, tension drawing along my spine until my shoulders were completely straight and pulled back. I was...tired, exhausted by the events of yesterday and confused about my feelings from this morning. Working with Mordin had offered a reprieve, submerging myself back into familiar research and problem solving, but Shepard's presence just reminded me once again of everything I'd been trying to push aside.

"I didn't realize I'd rebuilt you with such sense of humor. I'll add that to the list of things to fix," I replied, gathering my tablet and a datapad I'd taken notes on. I looked up just enough to catch Shepard's eyebrow raise and frown. "If you'll excuse me, Commander, I still have reports to finish."

"I only need one more minute of your time, Miranda," Shepard said, her tone causing me to look up at her face once more.

Her emerald eyes were soft and their gaze landed not on my face but my hair before trailing along my exposed neck. I resisted the urge to cover my empty amp port with a hand and stood straight, tipping my chin up so I looked at her levelly.

She stepped to the side and motioned to the asari that had been previously hidden by the doorframe. "This is Samara, our new asari Justicar," Shepard said. "Samara, this is Dr. Mordin Solus, Thane Krios, and my second-in-command Operative Miranda Lawson. She's the one I spoke to you about earlier."

I raised an eyebrow. "You were speaking about me?" I inquired, mildly concerned.

"Shepard witnessed my ability to reave. She asked if I might teach you the skill," Samara explained, stepping forward and bending her neck in a small bow of her head.

I blinked at her, turning to Shepard with both brows up. "You realize very few humans have ever mastered reaving. Without the asari's natural capacity to connect to another being's nervous system, it is an incredibly harrowing method to learn," I reminded her. "And you don't want to learn this yourself?"

"Reaving is antithetical to the commander's fighting style. The discipline and focus required—" Samara began to explain.

"—is not something a vanguard would be able to use well in a fight. But control is something you've got in spades. You can do this," Shepard said.

"Well, of course, I imagine I can," I replied. The corner of Shepard's mouth twitched up. "But who would I even practice on? I doubt volunteers will line up when they learn of the pain involved."

"You would practice on me," Samara said, earning surprised looks from both myself and Shepard. "In the beginning, I will meld with you so you have a better sense of how to use your biotics to connect to others. And the pain you inflict on me will also be felt by yourself so you learn how to moderate intensity."

There was a beat of silence. "I didn't realize melding was part of it," Shepard said hesitantly.

"It is the best way to learn," Samara explained. "I will not attempt to go beyond what is necessary. Her mind is her own."

"I'll do it," I decided. Shepard looked like she wanted to say something, but I cut it off with, "Would you be ready to start tomorrow? After the morning's training session?"

"Yes," Samara agreed with a nod.

"Then I look forward to it," I replied. I turned to Shepard. "I'll be in my office."

I barely made it out of the door before Shepard caught up with me, stopping me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Wait," she said. "I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you into this."

"I didn't realize my recent performance had been lacking," I answered, dropping my shoulder so her hand fell off. "You're my commanding officer, and if you feel a new skill is necessary for me to remain relevant to the mission, I hardly need further explanation."

Shepard made an aggravated noise deep in her throat and pressed her lips together, jaw tightening. "Damn it, Miranda, for someone so intelligent, sometimes you are just impossible to deal with, you know that?" she growled. I stayed silent, hands clasped behind my back, as she took in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "In retrospect, this was a bad day to spring this on you."

I wasn't sure what she meant by that except that maybe she was trying to consider my feelings in relation to the events of yesterday. However, I was confident my actions had given no indication of how much my kidnapping had shaken me. The mission was more important that something as trivial as my feelings, and surely Shepard recognized that I would never let something like that affect my work.

I certainly wasn't expecting Shepard to start looking at me so strangely, especially once she reached out and pulled one of my hands into her own. Then she hugged me, her arms pulling me flush against her while her hair fell against my shoulder, and for the second time that day, I found myself unsure what to do with my arms.

"You and I both know I don't really do hugs. So if you don't hug me back, this is going to get awkward very quickly," Shepard murmured against my ear, and a shiver raced down my spine.

"What is this for?" I asked, tentatively draping my arms around her.

"Because I can't believe you thought I'd make you learn reaving just to be important to the mission," Shepard said. My breath caught, and she pulled me in tighter. "You have nothing to prove here."

My throat went tight, and I thought I felt her fingers tracing along my neck, but it was so soft I dismissed it as my imagination again. Shepard released me after a few more moments, squeezing my shoulders before dropping her hands.

However, in the few seconds that it took for Shepard to remove herself into her own space, the air around us felt heavier, and pink spots of embarrassment colored Shepard's cheeks. She looked down with a self-conscious grimace and rubbed at the back of her neck.

"Everyone has shore leave this evening. Make sure you take a break, Miranda."

With that, she turned and marched for the elevator without looking back. I shook off my shock and headed for the airlock instead, ignoring the opportunity to go to the local bar like I imagined the rest of the team was doing. More importantly, I was ignoring any lingering feelings as I focused my mind fully on my task.

Work, only work, I reminded myself. If I couldn't focus on reports, I could do something else, so I steered myself to the sales floor.

The shops would still be open at this time, and I had a rather long list of things that needed to be purchased before we left: materials for the new cybernetics Mordin and I had planned, a de-humidifier for Thane, tactical cloak for Zaeed, an improved selection of dextro food for Garrus (and Tali), and a new biotic amp for Jack, since she'd complained hers was glitchy—unsurprising given my suspicions that she'd stolen it off of someone she'd killed. I'd even noted down that Tali needed a new omni-tool—something about it not being the same after Haestrom—and the new Logic Arrest model had been released recently. I certainly wasn't above bribery to get the quarian to be cooperative in her new home.

None of them would thank me for it, but it was my job to ensure that everyone had what they needed, a task that was surprisingly easy when the recipients believed I didn't care what they were saying or simply thought I wasn't listening. Besides, I was always careful to deliver my findings when the individual was absent from their room. It wasn't that I believed the squad members would shun free equipment if I openly gave it, but this way they were likely to attribute the requisitions to Shepard, which suited me just fine.

I entrusted my bundles to Crewman Hadley, who had been instructed to wait on the command deck for me, and made sure he knew where everything should be delivered before returning to my office with my normal determination returned in the steady pace of my footsteps and slight swing of my hips as I passed crew members by.

My good mood crashed around my ears the moment my office doors opened. There was a glint of a light reflecting off a familiar metal shape on my desk. I lifted it in one gloved hand: a brand new biotic amp, and a top model at that. A glance in my desk drawer revealed my old amp was gone, and only one person on the ship was bold enough to go through my things.

The slip of paper shoved under the amp only confirmed it, two scrawled letters decorating the otherwise empty page: E.S.

So I don't have a whole lot to say here except that it felt like an emotional rollercoaster while writing this chapter, and wow. I do feel like the pacing isn't my best work, and I would actually be really open to suggestions. It's the one thing that bugged me and held this chapter back from being published earlier.

Meanwhile, things are starting to ramp up for Miranda and Shepard, so I finally got to sprinkle some cuteness in alongside the angst. What do you all think about Shepard's reaction to waking up in Miranda's bed? Or what about Miranda learning to reave? Garrus is finally going to start dealing with his own stuff soon as well, so get ready. Next up...Collector Ship. *dramatic music*

Thanks to all of my followers and to everyone that reads and reviews. I appreciate every review I get (there may or may not be excited skipping involved when they show up). Also, special thanks to my beta, AblatedCrayon, who puts up with me ;)

*As a side note for the Minagen X3 thing, I forgot that the chemical was illegal when I wrote this. So it's not going to be *that* illegal in this fic. Think of it as a controlled substance instead of, say, something like meth. Shepard taking it with her was meant to be a practical decision.