Chapter Twelve
A Question of a Personal Nature
SSV Normandy SR-2
Sam Traynor's abdominal muscles had not ached so painfully since basic. Not since those early morning PT sessions where a loud-mouthed Gunny stood blowing chunks of spittle in her face as she struggled to pull herself up through each lousy sit-up. The humiliation of being called a disgrace to the military profession still rankled, but sit-ups weren't the reason for this ache.
The simple explanation was copious amounts of good, old-fashioned laughter.
In the seat beside her, Joker pointed enthusiastically toward the screen. "Okay, this is my favourite part…wait for it!"
A reporter wearing a crisp, clean suit was seated opposite a very bored looking Ashley Williams in the Observation Lounge. {Do you mind if I ask you a question of a more personal nature, Commander Williams?}
Both Joker and Sam were already chortling at the resulting glower that consumed Ashley's previously expressionless mask.
{My thoughts on the matter haven't stopped you asking any number of inane questions already…so shoot,} the marine replied testily. {I'll decide whether I answer it.}
{I don't need to tell you that war-related casualties on Earth were catastrophic. Do you feel as though it is the duty of exemplary individuals such as yourself to participate in the re-population of our planet and colonies?}
"Oh damn," Sam whispered. It was all she could force out through her tears of laughter.
She watched as Ashley processed the question, resulting in a bright flush that spread across each of the captain's cheeks. It was difficult to tell if the response was anger or embarrassment.
"Trust me, that isn't even the best part," Joker added.
{That's a stupid question,} Ashley replied bluntly. {Of course families are important, in whatever form they take-}
{You are undoubtedly an outstanding soldier and leader, Commander Williams, but do you feel as though you might best serve humanity by...well, by finding a virile human male and raising a large family?} The reporter continued to probe for the answer he wanted without realising how close to the edge he was skirting.
"Oh. My. God. He did not just ask the Commander that," Sam gasped in disbelief.
Joker was desperately attempting to stifle his laughter before he broke a rib. "Oh yes he did!"
{You need to stop talking,} Ashley replied in a tight voice. {Now.}
{So you disagree with me?}
{With what? With the fact that I can serve humanity better with my womb than my Black Widow? That the best use of my skills is to find an exemplary male individual and invite him to impregnate me? Are you suggesting your own services, Mr Sarna?}
{No one is suggesting that you leave your career, but you might want to give consideration to-}
With the only warning being a slight twitch beneath her right eye, the on-screen figure of Ashley Williams suddenly launched herself across the table and seized Sarna by the scruff of his suit and hauled him to his feet. Both Joker and Sam uttered matching exclamations of surprise and delight when she marched him backwards, jarring the camera in the process. The Commander then threw him up against the wall none too gently. The VI camera obediently pivoted and changed angle, zooming in on the two faces – one furious and the other terrified.
{Listen to me you cock-sucking rat, my womb is none of your fucking business. I'm a marine in the SA Navy, and as such your questions should be addressed to me in that capacity. However, after I rip out your tongue I don't think you'll be in much of a position to ask anymore fucking questions. This interview is over.}
{Your press office promised me an hour!}
Sam cocked her head in admiration as she watched the train-wreck of an interview play out in front of her. "You've got to admire his persistence…and his bravery."
{The Press Office huh? My Council Spectre card trumps your Press Office one, buddy. Now get the fuck out of my quarters.}
{You arrogant bitch-}
His words were cut short all too abruptly when Ashley drew the Carnifex from her holster in one smooth motion. She levelled it directly toward the camera. {Interview over.}
The muzzle flashed and a split second later the feed went dead. Sam just stared in disbelief, shaking her head slightly as to whether that had actually happened or if Joker was making her watch some ridiculous hoax. However, the woman on screen had been far too convincing to be anyone other than the real Ashley Williams.
"Something tells me the Alliance should have given the Commander some PR training before letting her loose in front of a camera."
"Wait until you see the ANN interview where she threatens to shove her Black Widow up the guy's ass," Joker said. "I think Williams hates reporters even more than Shepard did."
Eyebrows lifted in surprise, Sam turned to regard Joker. "Shepard hated reporters?"
"Did she ever! You didn't hear about the two times she socked that al-Jilani woman – right in the kisser! Pow!" Joker mimed the action. "I wasn't there, but Garrus did a fantastic re-enactment. You know, he's a damn good actor – for a Turian."
Sam laughed, but any potential retelling of Shepard's antics was swiftly curtailed by the alarm on her omni-tool signalling the start of yet another duty shift. She sighed and eased herself out of the co-pilot's chair. Before she left the cockpit, Sam placed a gentle hand on Joker's shoulder. "Thanks for that, Moreau. Yet again I owe you one for cheering me up."
"Thank EDI for tapping into those feeds," Joker replied with a shit-eating grin.
{I merely did as requested, Jeff,} EDI spoke up for herself. {You assured me that those interviews should be recorded and saved for posterity…and I agree with you. They are a valuable record of life aboard the Normandy.}
"I don't know if our beloved Commander will share the same opinion, but thank you all the same, EDI," Sam added.
"Just make sure you don't mention wombs or virile human males in her presence," was Joker's helpful parting suggestion.
Sam found it almost impossible to keep the grin from her face as she returned to her station. While she could not imagine a conversation where either of the taboo topics would come up, she couldn't stop thinking about them. She was idly wondering whether it was healthy for a lesbian to spend so much time thinking about virile males when she heard the elevator open behind her. Sam glanced over her shoulder in a casual fashion and almost self-combusted spectacularly when she found herself staring directly into the still stormy face of Ashley Williams. The interview had taken place that morning, but clearly the passage of time had not dispelled the Commander's anger.
"Are there any messages for me, Specialist?"
"Um, yes ma'am." Sam brought up the incoming messages. "You've received…fifty-seven."
"Can you filter them for me?" Ashley requested. "Any that relate to the supposed destruction of a camera – delete them. Those from Alliance HQ can be filed away and I'll look at them when I'm less likely to respond in a manner that will see me court-martialled."
"Are you alright, ma'am?" Sam asked carefully. Don't mention wombs or virile human males! "Is there anything I can do?"
"Unless you can take my place in one of these damn interviews…" Ashley's voice trailed off as she ran her hand absently over the console in front of her as though checking for dust. With the Normandy still dry-docked, there was very little happening on the CIC. "Just filter the messages, Traynor. That'll be enough."
"Aye-aye, ma'am. I'll fend off those virile males wanting to impregnate you," Sam reassured her Commander in a determined voice. It was only as Ashley's brow furrowed in a deep frown that she realised the exact nature of the words that had escaped her treacherous lips. "C-Commander Williams, I am so-"
"Traynor, if you ever use the word 'virile' in my presence again, I promise that you will spend the rest of your life brushing your teeth manually…and I'm going to be using your fancy-ass toothbrush to polish my boots. Am I understood?"
"Understood, ma'am. Sorry."
Sam was relieved beyond belief when her console alerted her to the presence of an urgent message. When she saw the sender, she risked a slight smile.
"What the hell are you grinning at, Sam?" Ashley demanded, completely forgetting for a few moments that they were both on duty and she was addressing a crewmember, not her friend.
"The message that's just come through, it's from Ms Lawson," Sam offered quietly. "I wouldn't begin to presume anything, but it might…cheer you up?"
Ashley's expression did not waiver, but she responded with a nod. "Thank-you, Specialist. I'll take it in my quarters."
As she turned and retraced her steps back toward the elevator, Ash thought she heard a sigh of relief escape Traynor's lips. She could hardly blame the woman. Ever since starting the Alliance's damn PR campaign she'd become so tightly strung that she felt liable to snap at any moment. As her immediate future was consumed by reporters and their asinine questions, her time with Miranda already felt like a distant memory.
It almost felt as though she was beating a retreat to the Crow's Nest when she ducked gratefully inside. The door closed behind her, going some way toward sealing her off from the rest of the ship. Even though the space represented her position and duties by its very nature, Ash found comfort in solitude. The Alliance retro-fit team had stripped out the useless fish tank and replaced it with a feature more to her liking – a weapons rack. Her Black Widow was secured alongside her old M-98 and a selection of assault rifles. As she passed, she reached out and trailed her fingers along the length of her sniper in an almost ritualistic gesture. Almost everything else in the Nest remained the same as it had when Shepard occupied the space. Even though she had no patience for scale-modelling herself, Ash had insisted that the team leave Shepard's collection exactly as they were.
Although her shift wasn't officially over for fifteen minutes, she reasoned that she'd pulled enough overtime during the past six months to justify slacking off this once. As she kicked off her boots, Ash transferred the vidcom message to her portable pad. After filling a glass with a finger of scotch from her stash, she carried both pad and drink to the bed.
"Alright, M." Ash felt like talking to herself for once as she settled back against the pillows, feeling slightly decadent. "There had better be nakedness."
However, when the screen booted up, Ash regretfully saw that Miranda was decently covered – even though the white vest she wore was devilishly sexy. Ash's first thought was that Miranda looked slightly tired. Her suspicions ran to late night conversations with Lynn. While she was genuinely glad that Miranda was building a relationship with her family, she felt decidedly nervous at the potential secrets her sister could reveal.
Miranda managed a half-decent attempt at a smile as she started her message. Ash's heart skipped several beats in response.
{Hey you.}
"Hey yourself," Ash whispered instinctively.
{The Alliance has definitely put you to work. The girls and I caught the ANN interview last night. You have many talents, but appearing in front of a camera is clearly not one of them,} Miranda said, her smile blooming as she spoke.
Let's just hope you don't see the one I taped this morning, Ash thought with a wince. She had not bothered to watch the ANN broadcast - although she did wonder whether they had edited out the threat she'd made against the reporter involving the non-regulation use of her Black Widow. Ash had felt a distinct warmth in her chest when Miranda said 'the girls and I.' Her fears that Miranda would hate being left with Abby and Lynn had obviously not eventuated.
{I did save it to my omni though – for repeat...private viewings. You're undeniably hot when you're angry.} Miranda paused for a moment and chewed thoughtfully on her lip as she often did when she was pondering something. The smile faded. {I've been called up for early deployment as well, I guess the Alliance don't believe in allowing their personnel to relax. I don't know where I've been assigned, but I thought I should let you know not to expect any contact for several days – at least not until I'm settled in my new post. I'll be thinking of you though, marine. Just promise you'll try and behave yourself around those reporters…for me?} Miranda cast a glance off to her right. Ash easily recognised a flicker of anxiety pass across her usually poised features. {I'm sorry for the brevity of this message, babe. I guess I just wanted to say that I love you. Abby and Lynn send their love as well. They're...amazing women, Ash. You should be proud of yourself for you part in raising them. I'll be in touch soon. Take care of yourself and that crew of yours. I love you.}
With a last, slightly forced smile from Miranda, the image winked out and Ash was left staring at a blank screen. Throughout the message, something about her lover's entire delivery had seemed off. Then there was the use of 'babe.' It had been slipped into the conversation, but she knew full well that Miranda was incapable of using the endearment so casually. She tossed the pad onto the bed and downed the scotch in one gulp.
What the hell are you playing at, M? As she stood, Ash couldn't shake the awful thought that Miranda had lied to her for some reason. She stubbornly refused to let her mind run away with rampant speculations based on a few weary smiles and one casual 'babe.'
She's tired, that's all, she reasoned with herself. Lynn has been keeping her up…and I'm not there to stroke her back while she's trying to get to sleep. Ash grinned as she set her glass down and began stripping off her uniform. A brief shower would serve to blast away the day's stress.
Several minutes later, clad in just her underwear, she refilled the tumbler with an overly generous measure of scotch and returned to the bed. Her earlier concerns seemed almost outlandish. As she settled back and closed her eyes, she reasoned that it was nice that Miranda could so easily call her 'babe.' It would give her more opportunities to use 'sweetcheeks' in return.
Vancouver, Canada
For the fifth time in as many minutes, Miranda Lawson checked the address displayed on her omni. After reconfirming, she realised that the derelict building she was standing in was the right address. Aside from the detritus left by departed squatters, there was no one there to greet her.
She puffed out a frustrated burst of air to remove a strand of hair that was continuously falling in front of her eyes. The meal that Abby had been preparing when she had left the apartment had smelled delicious, and her concocted excuse about being called into Alliance HQ was half-hearted at best. It was only when she realised that she was feeling resentful at missing out on spending time with the Williams sisters that Miranda accepted just how much she had changed. There had been a time when she would have gladly accepted any excuse to remove herself from a familial situation. Now she honestly missed Abby and Lynn's company. Her only regret was that Ash was not there to share in the frequent moments of hilarity.
Her careful gaze scanned her surrounds but she was already rueing the fact that she had obeyed the mysterious message that claimed to have been sent by Liara T'Soni. Miranda did not make a habit of obeying cryptic messages, but it had been sent via an address she'd only given out to two people – Shepard and Ashley. One was dead and the other she trusted implicitly.
When she caught an unnatural shadow moving out of the corner of her eye, Miranda responded by creating a discreet mass effect field above the fingertips of her right hand. Although she maintained an air of nonchalance about her actions, the fear that she had walked into some sort of trap began to play havoc with her composure. When she turned and saw a familiar individual step out of the shadows, she extinguished the field in a heartbeat. Despite the lingering sense of unease that hung in the air, she felt a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the welcome sight of Liara T'Soni. Miranda couldn't bring herself to consider Liara a friend. They barely knew each other and their shared history was awkward at best. However, Liara was Shepard's bondmate, and as such an integral part of the eccentric Normandy family.
"And I thought you'd disappeared into the far reaches of the Galaxy," Miranda observed as she propped a hand on her hip in a casual manner. "Yet all this time, you were hanging out on Earth under the very noses of the Alliance?"
Miranda's smile faded as Liara stepped into the light. She tried to keep her lips from parting in shock, but it was difficult when faced with the spectrum of suffering etched clearly on Liara's face. Few people had seen Liara in the wake of Shepard's death over Alchera, but Miranda's first encounter with her had come during that time. If it were possible, Liara now appeared even more haggard. Miranda's sincere concern was mitigated by the faint air of expectation hovering around the asari. Something was clearly about to happen.
"Not exactly under their noses, but I have been living on Earth," Liara responded with a polite shrug. While she did not give away a great deal of emotion, her tone was sincere. "It is good to see you, Miranda."
"Likewise," Miranda added with a nod.
"Or should that be Second-Lieutenant Lawson?" Liara asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm here in my capacity as a private citizen, not an Alliance Officer," Miranda added quickly. She was not surprised in the slightest at Liara's extensive knowledge. "As pleasant as it is to see you, I know you didn't invite me here for tea and cake. Whatever you're going to ask of me, I already have the feeling that it's not going to sit well with my superiors."
The resulting expression that flickered across Liara's tired features seemed to indicate both agreement and a distinct disquiet.
"No, it will not."
Miranda removed her hand from her hip and straightened. She held her body tense in anticipation. "Why did you contact me?"
Liara opened her mouth to reply, but all that emerged immediately was a ragged exhalation. She eventually had to lower her gaze, unable to meet Miranda's challenging stare during her revelation. "Shepard…is alive."
Miranda's body sagged almost instantly, as though someone had unexpectedly punched her in the gut.
Shepard is alive.
It was the best possible news that she could have received, and yet Liara's words stung painfully. Seven months of mourning had passed. Seven months of struggling to accept the fact that a friend she cared for deeply had died in the ruins of London. Miranda had more practice than most when it came to controlling her emotions, but it required a monumental amount of willpower to deny her emotions the release they craved.
By the time Liara lifted her gaze, she had schooled her face into an expressionless mask. Although no words were exchanged, Miranda very quickly realised that Liara was grateful for her subdued reaction. It was almost ridiculous. Their lives were intimately entwined, but the mere thought of breaking down in each other's company was inconceivable.
"But there are complications?" Miranda asked brusquely.
She had already deduced as much from Liara's mannerisms, but the difficulty lay in comprehending how that could even be possible. Surely if Shepard was alive it would be all over the news. Every effort would have been made to reunite her with friends and family.
"The Alliance is…was holding Shepard prisoner," Liara replied succinctly. "She escaped."
"Wait." Miranda was still struggling to process the first piece of information. "The Alliance? As in the same human military organisation that Shepard devoted herself to for almost her entire adult life. The same Alliance that just commissioned me as an officer. That Alliance? You'll forgive me if I'm a little sceptical here, Liara, but that claim is-"
"Is it any easier to accept if I corroborate Dr T'Soni's words?"
The additional voice came from the shadows, but Miranda recognised it well enough without having to wait for the newcomer to approach. Her brows had tightened into a scowl before the woman stepped fully into the light.
"Not unless I overestimate your intelligence," Miranda retorted bluntly.
Hannah Shepard pursed her lips into a thin smile as Liara allowed her to take over the exposition. "I apologise for my behaviour yesterday, Second-Lieutenant Lawson. I did not expect you to heed advice given to you by someone you do not respect, but a part of me did hope that you were cynical enough to start asking questions of the institution you profess to serve. The Alliance…is not what it once was. Cancerous cells have spread amongst its upper echelons, creating the fear and doubt that has led to the current state of affairs. Perhaps it has not yet filtered down to the lower ranks?"
Miranda clearly remembered the blatant xenophobia of some of her fellow OCS candidates and her short but disturbing interview with Jian and Alves. After years' operating alongside individuals with similar viewpoints during her time with Cerberus, Miranda had not even bothered to consider that there was a deeper significance.
"To some extent," Miranda admitted irritably. "But I'm sure you'll fill me in on the rest, and explain what the hell this has to do with Shepard."
She listened with mounting fury as Hannah and Liara laid everything bare – the repugnant fanaticism that had swept swiftly through Alliance High Command in the wake of the Reaper War and what information they did have relating to Shepard's incarceration and escape. It was only when they finished that Miranda realised that she had lost her subconscious control over her biotics. With the fervour of her anger, the tight constraints that usually required no effort to maintain had come unravelled. It was a loss of control that had not happened since she was a child. There was nothing to be done other than to discharge the pent up dark energy against one of the ruined walls. The fields danced and swirled with dangerous potential before fading.
"Okay, she is definitely coming with us!"
This time the voice was unfamiliar. Although neither Liara nor Hannah responded with alarm, Miranda's entire body tensed as they were joined by two human males wearing Alliance uniforms. Neither represented the calibre of squadmate that Miranda would have expected – one was old and the other, taller man bordered on being overweight.
"I'm David," the younger one moved forward with his hand outstretched. "David Codrington. This cantankerous old bastard is Pericles Macklin, but make sure you call him Mack."
"She can call me whatever she wants," Mack added in an eager voice.
David continued, "With you being able to do that biotic…stuff as well as Dr T'Soni, we might actually stand a chance."
Miranda regarded the proffered hand coolly before turning to Liara. "You must be joking. This is our squad? The galaxy's worst mother, this fatso and a guy who looks old enough to be my father? You and I would stand a better chance operating alone."
David withdrew his hand and turned to his companion with a grimace written plainly on his face. "Bloody hell, she's not very nice is she, Mack?"
"Nope," Mack replied with an appreciative grin. "But I like her. Reminds me of my second wife."
Liara ignored them both. "These are the resources we have available. If you would prefer I got in touch with Ashley-"
"No!" Miranda interrupted vehemently. "It's simple enough for me to drop off the radar for a few days, but Ash is on active duty. She gets involved and her career will be over…not to mention her life in danger. I know she'd gladly take that risk, but I'm not willing to let her." Miranda had already realised that Ashley would not share her opinion. However, she was willing to incur her lover's wrath to keep her at the helm of the Normandy. She had the distinct feeling that Ashley needed to stay precisely where she was – in the middle of the viper-ridden pit that was the Alliance. "We'll make do with the personnel we have. However inadequate they are." She briefly glanced back toward the two men. David regarded her warily while Mack winked good-humouredly. "Do we have a plan?"
"We go to Alberta…I find Evan," Liara replied brusquely.
"That's our plan?" Miranda asked in disbelief. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and massaged them intently for several seconds. When she finished, Liara's expression remained unrepentant. "It's not very good," she sighed.
"You try explaining that to her," David added with a knowing glance toward Liara.
"Within the broader picture of the Alliance that you and Rear Admiral Shepard have depicted, they will be desperate to recover Shepard," Miranda tried to reason. "The strength of their forces in the area will be considerable. It's another suicide mission."
"I understand your concerns," Liara explained patiently. "But for all their personnel, their firepower, and their hate, we have something the Alliance does not. Me. For the past few days I have been able to feel Evan. She is still alive. Her fear is my own. I cannot explain it further, but I have every confidence that I will be able to find her before they do. She is my bondmate, Miranda. All I ask is that you place your trust in me…and in her."
"You know I would trust you both with my life," Miranda eventually admitted in a quiet voice. She squared her shoulders. "What the bloody hell are we waiting for then?"
Athabasca Facility, Alberta, Canada
{Dr Stone, ma'am. We have been unsuccessful in locating any trace of the Subject. Given the condition she was in, it is reasonable to assume that she drowned shortly after entering the river.}
"Lieutenant...whatever-the-fuck-your-name-is-" Dr Naomi Stone regarded the expectant face of the marine on the screen in front of her with barely concealed disdain. "-I thought I made it clear to you idiots that I will not consider her dead until you haul her bloated corpse in front of me."
His chiselled jaw tightened as he gave her a curt nod. {You did, ma'am. I'll have units press further downstream. With the strength of the currents, it is likely that-}
"I don't care about the fucking technicalities, you daft cunt!" Stone's controlled demeanour unravelled as she stabbed her finger against the screen. Her face contorted into a brutish mask. The entire console swayed violently for several seconds after the contact. "If you don't locate the Subject your life will be forfeit. Is that simple enough for you to understand?"
{Understood, ma'am.} This time the nod was sincere. {We'll get it done. Beta team leader out.}
Stone said nothing as the grim visage of the Lieutenant disappeared and she was left sitting in her office in silence. The lack of sound went some ways toward dispelling her fury, but it remained simmering just under the surface of her skin – much as it had throughout the preceding weeks. Since her arrival.
It was a simple happenstance that she was stationed at the Athabasca Facility when the Subject – Shepard – had arrived in a stasis pod in an induced coma. The riot of memories dredged up from her subconscious upon seeing the woman again had struck her at the first sight. Unlike Shepard, Naomi had never forgotten their night together on the Citadel. She remembered everything. The way the enigmatic soldier had so effortlessly turned what was otherwise a mundane night out with some of her friends from medical school upside down. Despite her dark, morose exterior, Shepard had been passionate to the point of being all-consuming. Naomi had never felt as alive as in the moment that Shepard – her voice heavy with lust – declared that she wanted to fuck her. At that moment, there had been no question of refusing the marine. The desire and violence wrapped up in that one night had indelibly tainted the rest of her life.
When she saw Shepard again for the first time in eight years, those emotions resurfaced tenfold. It had taken an almost inhuman amount of self-control to force herself to rein everything in behind a pleasant, compassionate exterior. However, with the opportunity of a lifetime practically handed to her on a plate, she was determined to extract every iota of the vengeance that had previously been nothing more than an unattainable dream. Naomi had savoured the pleasure of seeing Shepard humiliated and bound, all the while restraining her darker impulses behind a friendly smile.
She had thought that she would be able to deal with a man like Bryan Heller. Her instincts had told her that he was a man of cruel tendencies and his initial treatment of Shepard had played out by the book. She had often admired and envied the sadistic touches he employed in his work, even as they threatened to push her over the edge. As though her memories had a switch, Naomi summoned the image of Shepard lying on the bed with her gown bunched up around her waist and her own piss drying on her face. Her own apparently compassionate reaction in tugging the gown downward was born out of the need to remove temptation from her reach. She'd then offered Shepard a shower – both for the privacy it offered from the monitoring devices and the opportunity to leer at Shepard under the pretext of helping her. With her heart hammering in her chest, she revelled in the play of water over the ex-marine's naked body as she listened to the promise that she would try and contact her squid-head lover.
Her self-discipline had frayed in the wake of that incident to the point where she had needed to relieve her urges on the body of one of the marines stationed at the base. The young woman had seemed willing enough on that occasion and those that followed. She was also smart enough to keep their liaison discreet.
It had been the perfect situation until Heller decided that he was a hero. Everything had swiftly fallen to pieces in the space of less than an hour. Weeks of restraining herself, of careful patience waiting for a time when she would be able to act, it was all ruined. Although Naomi finally had her coveted permission to break Shepard, she knew the marine Lieutenant was probably correct in his assumption that the woman was dead.
With a harsh exhalation, Naomi established a link on her intercom and opened a channel. She hated her own lack of willpower, but she needed an outlet for her tension. "Corporal Daine?"
Only a few moments passed before there was an answer in a youthful female voice. {Dr Stone, ma'am. What can I do for you?}
"I need to see you in my office, immediately."
{Understood, ma'am.} If the Corporal was at all reticent about the summons, it was not evident in her tone.
Naomi was drumming her fingers in an impatient rhythm on her desk when the knock at her door finally came. She issued the command to enter in a terse voice but did not turn to look as the door opened and then closed again.
Corporal Daine cleared her throat. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?"
The slight catch to the younger woman's voice sent a thrill of anticipation travelling down Naomi's spine. She finally swivelled in her chair and turned to face the marine. Her dark hair was tightly bound per regulations. She had pale blue eyes and a lithe, panther-like body. The physical similarities were definitely there – enough to suit Stone's immediate needs. She stood and stripped the lab coat from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
"I did," Stone replied as she started undoing the buttons of her shirt. "Lock the door behind you and come here"
Alberta Wilds, Canada
Liara was gone when she woke up.
Shepard felt an interminable sense of solitude even before she opened her eyes. Although her clothing was dry and her wounds were dressed, the comforting presence of Liara's memory was gone. She expected her eyes to open to darkness, but instead the interior of the cave was bathed in a dim, eerie light. As she dragged her aching body into a sitting position, she saw that it was bright enough to reflect off the surface of the water.
"Liara?" Her voice was a strange, incongruous addition to her environment. Not only for the fact that it was the only sound other than the rustle of her clothing, but because she felt foolish calling out for someone she knew was not there. The only response she received was a faint echo that confirmed her plight. "Come on, baby. You wouldn't leave me alone in this shithole would you?"
The echo faded and a weak, derisive snort escaped her nose. If she had been talking to herself yesterday, then at least she could explain it away with a concussion. Other than an all-consuming exhaustion and a constant, dull pain, she felt alert and in complete control of her faculties. It did not take Shepard long to realise that she was trying to give herself a reason to find a way out of her current predicament. She'd escaped one prison only to fall into another – although at least this one was not occupied by sadistic doctors.
If I go back into the river I'll die, Shepard thought. Although the mirror-like surface of the water in front of her looked almost beautiful, she knew it held only death below. It was only by some miracle that she had been dragged into the cave in the first place – not as a result of her swimming abilities. At one stage dying had seemed an attractive prospect, now she was desperate to live. I'm not going to give the Alliance the satisfaction.
She sighed and pressed the back of her head against the rough wall behind her. It was only when she made an effort to concentrate that clarity came. The light...it has to come from somewhere. With her gaze cast into the reaches of the cavern above her head, Shepard realised that the dim light was filtering down from a fissure. With excitement bubbling in her chest, she dragged herself to her feet – pausing momentarily as a wave of vertigo passed. There was a gap. The light had only ever been dim because it was moonlight that shone through. Although it was difficult to tell precisely how large it was, Shepard thought it might possibly accommodate her slight frame. The only question was whether she could scale the sides of the cave in her condition.
Although Shepard reasoned that she might have a better chance if she rested another day, she could not stomach the thought of remaining trapped and alone for another minute.
"Okay, at least if I fall and break my neck, there won't be anyone to witness my stupidity," Shepard admitted to herself. "Whether real or imagined."
As she started up the lower reaches of the cave, Shepard found the going relatively easy. It would have been almost effortless had she been in peak physical condition, but the wide ledges acted as a sort of staircase leading upwards. After a few minutes of climbing toward the opening in a zig-zag fashion, Shepard glanced downward to find that she had reached the point where a fall would not simply break her leg, but would no doubt kill her. Her climb slowed as she became more cautious with each movement.
When it became necessary to use handholds to drag herself higher she realised her right arm was almost useless. The gunshot wound to her shoulder meant that she could put very little weight on the arm. Instead Shepard had to rely on her left hand – the one she still did not trust. It was only when she suddenly lost her footing and found herself clinging to a ledge by fingers that she did not regard as hers, that she realised just how inhuman it really was. With just the tips of her fingers, she managed to claw her way across to another ledge where she could regain her purchase with her feet.
"Well that was fun," Shepard murmured, flexing the chalky white digits of her left hand. Where flesh would have been grazed and reddened by the abrasive contact, the surface remained unblemished. Unnerved, Shepard ceased staring at it.
As she neared the opening, Shepard only had to draw in a deep breath in order for the sweet smell of damp earth and rotting leaves to reach her nostrils. However as tantalisingly close as escape was, the last four metres or so would require her to manoeuvre up an almost vertical channel of rock. The only way to do it was to wedge her body into the space and walk herself up, keeping her back and feet pressed against either side. A cake walk for an N7 under normal circumstances, it would now be torturously slow going.
Buoyed by the soft breeze filtering downward, Shepard started upwards. She kept her movements small – alternating between walking her feet up a few inches and shuffling her back higher in a wriggling movement. The effort required to keep her body wedged in the channel meant that she was exhausted before she had travelled halfway up the formation. Her shoulder sent stabbing pains throughout the rest of her body each time she put any pressure on it – which was almost constantly. Shepard kept her teeth gritted to avoid crying out. Each breath was sucked laboriously through the gaps in her teeth.
Her final exit would not have won any points for technical execution. With the awkward position of her body, she was forced to hook her feet over the lip of the fissure and use the firm grip of her left hand to drag the rest of her weight from the hole. Shepard flopped free with an involuntary grunt escaping her lips. Much like a fish dumped from a net, she lay gasping for breath on the cold, slightly damp earth. Although the forest canopy overheard was thickly woven, thin shafts of moonlight drove through the gaps and bathed her body in a white light.
Shepard lost all trace of time as she lay, simply revelling in the motions of breathing. At some point she closed her eyes and wandered along the cusp between waking and dreaming. A part of her expected to hear shouts and gunshots in the distance, but there was only the quiet rumble of the river somewhere down below her. The danger was not present enough to spur her to action.
"Evan, you need to move."
A light laugh bubbled from her belly, shaking her entire body. It hurt, but Shepard didn't care. "You choose now to make an appearance? I could've used you while I was clawing my way out of that hole."
"Strictly speaking, I am not making an appearance," Liara replied with very little compassion evident in her voice. "And you seem to have managed to drag yourself out of that hole without my help."
"Fine, go away and let me sleep then," Shepard mumbled.
"I cannot do that." Liara's tone was heavy with disapproval.
Although she could not see her, Shepard could easily picture Liara shaking her head stubbornly. It was annoying beyond belief, and yet reassuring at the same time. Still, she was the escaped prisoner with the gunshot wound. She felt like feeling sorry for herself and being an arse. "Why?" Shepard demanded, making no effort to try and move her exhausted body.
The very clear sound of Liara's sigh reached her ears. "Because I love you."
"Shit," Shepard whispered in response. Checkmate. Before she said anything else she went through the motions of hauling her body up into a sitting position. When she opened her eyes the entire scene in front of her swayed as though it was on a colossal topsy-turvy. She blinked a few times and it helped a little. "I guess that means I have to make an effort."
"Yes, it does," Liara said tersely.
For about sixty seconds, Shepard acted with the same determination and decisiveness that had seen her claw her way out of the cave. She managed to stand and make her feet work sufficiently to manage a brisk walk away from the river as though she knew exactly where she was going. However, she eventually paused and studied her surroundings with a confused frown.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she said in a small voice. Her gaze jerked left and right but the same sight stretched in every direction – darkness and shadows. There was no sign of Liara, not even at the fringes of her vision. "Where am I supposed to go?"
This time there was no answer. Shepard drew her jacket tightly around her shivering body and continued walking in the same direction. Liara had left her alone again.
