A/N: Firstly, I'd like to apologise for the long delay with this chapter. Chapter 6 has been very tricky to plot and write so far and promises to be a humongous chapter. So I've decided that I should publish what I have for now to offset the dearth of updates. So here it is—the first half of Chapter 6. I want to thank everyone who wrote to me in concern that I've abandoned the story. I have no such intention, and I hope these two parts will whet your appetite for the big revelations in the second half of this chapter which should be out sometime next month. As with before, a big shout-out to Ieldra for his constant nagging and reminder that I have an obligation to complete this story. He's been a godsend in keeping me focused on writing.

Chapter 6

The opposite of apathy was paranoia. The thought struck Shepard as he studied the numerous holes in his armour with a critical eye. It'd been painstakingly repaired by Shan after his fateful fight with Kai Leng, and he had to admit it was a heroic effort considering the lack of access to proper materials or tools.

The plan to make a noisy entrance into Eldfell Tower to lure both Cordelia and Kai Leng out from hiding was set to take place tomorrow. This past week was like being in heaven without realising that he'd been living in hell all this time. And Shepard knew that no matter what came to pass, he would count it as some of the happiest moments of his life.

He knew now he didn't look forward to testing his suit's integrity in a firefight. It was a different kind of funk all together, akin to blood returning to frozen extremities. And along with that renewed sensation of being alive again came the realisation of how much he stood to lose if he slipped up one more time.

It was daunting to even think of a new life. For so long Shepard had lived with the threat of the Reapers that the idea of settling down had always been a pipe dream at best. And now that other options were closed to him, he was suddenly aware that he had no notion what such a lifestyle meant. New Canton had been a farce right from the start and he harboured no illusions that the last week of bliss was all there was to it. It was a good bet that the experience was just as alien to Miranda as well, but if she had any reservations, she hid them well.

One thing was clear: as a combat soldier, he was past his prime. Even if he hadn't spent most of the last decade on a ship's command deck, it was near impossible that he could resume his peak performance from before the war. Riding on that mixture of resignation and regret, Shepard noticed Shan looking on, his task of maintaining their weapons half forgotten before him, and tried to muster a grateful smile for that earnest face.

"Thanks for fixing this up for me, Shan. Let's hope it doesn't take too much of a beating tomorrow."

He watched as the young man released a pent up breath and said simply, "I hope so, sir."

They were saved from an incoming bout of awkward silence by Miranda's entrance into the living room with Oriana trailing behind. She'd taken a call from the tower security on the console in her younger sister's room and her grim expression didn't bode well.

"C'mon, Miri, are you saying I'd be a potential casualty if I came along?" Oriana demanded, evidently continuing a conversation from before.

"Or a hostage target." Miranda returned in a clipped tone. "They've done it once and they can do it again. I won't risk that happening, Ori."

Oriana looked as though she was on the verge of saying more but subsided as they came within clear earshot.

Shepard couldn't help his involuntary smile for Miranda, which she returned with a faint one of her own. The last week was the most uninhibited he'd ever seen her, considering how painfully circumspect he knew her to be. It was one of those many changes in her person that continued to take him by surprise, and he was only beginning to warm up to them. Strangely enough, returning to professional mode again was harder than he'd imagined, and he found himself needing to struggle with it.

"Trouble at the tower?" He cleared his throat and asked as neutrally as he could.

Her eyes flicked to him thoughtfully before she replied with the same tone.

"Eldfell security reported that someone tried to hack and bypass the security system today via remote. The point of intrusion suggests it was most likely Cordelia. Nothing was damaged and I've maintained status quo for now."

Earlier in the week, Miranda had accessed the same system to verify her identity. The process had gone through without a hitch, which was why she had full access to the tower's resources now. It was probably an academic question, but Shepard recalled his puzzlement over how the genetics-based test had been able to separate her from the rest of her sisters.

"How does the system recognise you and not the rest by the way?"

"I don't know." She shook her head with a sigh. "It seems to be the only answer for most of the questions I've been asking myself lately."

"Maybe what you need is more heads working on those questions. If you're so worried about Cordelia getting her hands on me, then lock me up when we get there until the situation is under control." Oriana pointed out quietly.

Miranda gave her younger sister an exasperated look.

"I'll arrange for you to join us once we secure the area. Not before." She paused and then said more reasonably. "I know you want answers as much as I do, Ori. But that'll have to wait till we resolve the problem with Cordelia and Kai Leng."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of." Oriana said with a frown. "How are you going to resolve the problem of Cordelia? Force her to surrender at gunpoint?"

Miranda hesitated. Her notion of a noisy entrance was to order the tower to resume full operations as of this week. The large-scale movement and activity ensured that it was impossible for Cordelia and Kai Leng not to know of it. Tomorrow, they would make an official entrance after working hours, when most of the workers would've knocked off, thus minimising the number of bystander casualties should things go haywire. It was utterly pragmatic, and exactly the kind of reasoning Shepard expected from Miranda. The only catch was there was no way for Oriana not to twig to the fact that things might go haywire.

"It may come to that." Miranda confessed reluctantly. "I don't want to have to use force, but I doubt we can conduct any civil discussion without personal safeguards. Speaking of safeguards—" she turned to Shan. "—Shan, could you stay behind and keep Ori company when we enter the tower tomorrow?"

A frown appeared between Shan's brows before he said almost diffidently, "Sure, ma'am. I could do that."

Oriana threw her hands up in frustration.

"So on top of leaving me behind, you're also delegating someone you can't afford to spare to babysit me?"

"It wouldn't be like the last time, Ori. Eldfell security forces are highly trained. Besides, I have full access to the tower's highly-advanced security system."

"If I come along, there's a chance I can get Cordelia to talk peacefully with us, then maybe we wouldn't need those safeguards at all. You admit yourself she's got a special interest in me. So let's use that to our advantage!"

It was the same conversation the sisters had been having over the last week, in one form or another. Things were simply turning confrontational now that the time window for last minute adjustments ticked to a close. It wasn't a situation Shepard felt he had much right to interfere in; neither did he envy Miranda for the myriad of factors that pushed and pulled at her, but he knew this was something she had to resolve on her own.

With reluctance, he turned his attention back to Shan who was similarly looking on uncomfortably at the sibling altercation. The marine was unusually sombre lately, and Shepard could pinpoint the exact moment when his behaviour markedly changed-his announcement that he'd seek political asylum with the asari government on Thessia. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. The decision spelt a death-knell to Shan's military career, likely accompanied by a jail stint for abetting and assisting in the escape of a political prisoner.

Offhanded comment or not, Miranda's reminder that it wasn't Shan's choice to become embroiled in this mess came vividly to mind, and once again, Shepard had to wonder if he'd unthinkingly hustled the young man into a no-win situation. He knew it would haunt him if he didn't do something about it and with an inward sigh, he beckoned Shan to join him on the porch outside.

Shan acquiesced amiably, although he gave the sisters more than one backward glance as the door slid shut behind him.

"Let them sort it out." Shepard advised. "They've spent most of their lives apart under different environments and circumstances. Clashes are inevitable."

Shan hesitated.

"I know it's not my place to say this, but don't you think Dr. Lawson is too...protective of Oriana sometimes?"

"She knows it, but it's not something she can help."

"I think I can understand that." Shan replied thoughtfully after a while.

Shepard gave him a brief smile.

"Thought you might. Maybe it's the same thing when you decided to join me here, knowing that it'd be a decision that may end up in a court martial." He thrust his hands into his pant pockets before looking up again. "Do you regret it?"

Shan's expression grew dark and troubled.

"I—I still haven't made up my mind about it, sir."

"I haven't forgotten my promise to try and get you out of that potential mess, in case you're wondering."

The young man refused to meet his eyes, choosing instead to survey the weed-choked back garden before them.

"I'm sorry for saying this, sir, but I don't see how that's possible. The only way to do that is for you to return to the Alliance with me, and that's out of the question."

Shepard couldn't help but wince at the notes of resignation and bitterness in the young man's voice.

"Would you consider quitting the Alliance, join Miranda and myself?" he asked finally. "There's a chance that I could find something for you to do on Thessia."

"Wouldn't that mean becoming an outlaw in Alliance space?"

"If it's any consolation, there's a large and thriving human community on Thessia that operates outside of Alliance jurisdiction." Shepard conceded in a heavy voice. "I'd call in what favours I have left in the Alliance to get you out of this, but that option isn't exactly tenable at the moment."

Shan was quiet for such a long time that his despair seemed to colour the air between them. And for the umpteenth time, Shepard wondered if he should've simply taken off after Miranda back at New Canton, and not have involved Shan in the first place. Giving him the option to come along had proven to be—to use the adage—giving him more rope to hang himself once the moment of reckoning arrived.

"I know it's not the solution you want to hear, and I'm sorry I can't offer better right now. That may change if we get a break later, and you can be sure I'll be looking damn hard for one." Shepard said quietly. "But it's something for you to think about and we have some time yet. It's probably too optimistic to think that we'll have tied up all loose ends by tomorrow."

His offer was followed by another long bout of silence.

"Thank you, sir," the young marine finally said. "For the record... I want to say that I got a number of things out of this experience. Good things." He added before ducking his head deeply. "I—had a talk with Oriana about the choices I'd made. And she said that maybe I already knew it was something I had to do. Maybe I just haven't found the courage to admit it to myself yet..."

He glanced thoughtfully through the window at Oriana who remained deep in an argument with Miranda as he said this. It wasn't the first time he did that while they talked, Shepard couldn't help but notice.

When they finally concluded their conversation, Shepard walked away with the feeling that he hadn't done much to solve the problem at all. In addition, there was a faint sense of unease that he couldn't pinpoint, something that nagged at him as he went with the final mission preparations for the rest of the day.

In the end, it was Miranda who managed to identify the source of that unease.

"Maybe I'm imagining things, but I'm worried about Ori's friendship with Shan," she confessed, lying in bed beside him later that night. "I can't help but feel that it's becoming something more than that, and I'm not sure that'll turn out well."

If it was any other time, Shepard would have argued that her protectiveness of Oriana was at play, but he had to admit he agreed with her now.

"Probably a good thing we'll be leaving Earth soon then." Mentally, he winced once again at his responsibility for the disappointment Shan would have to suffer.

"How did your talk with Shan go?"

"Funny that you ask, because I feel like I've done him another injustice." Shepard exhaled as he stroked her hair absent-mindedly. "If he returns to the Alliance after this, he'll be court-martialled for sure. Even if I had that many strings to pull within the Alliance, I'm in the worst possible position to do it."

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't..." Miranda commiserated. There was a pensive expression on her face after which she followed up with, "I have some favours I can call upon in the judiciary department. If we pool our resources together, we may be able to get him a lighter sentence. But I suspect a full pardon is out of the question."

"He said he'd think about joining us on Thessia. Didn't sound very enthusiastic about it though."

"He'll have to decide which option is best for him," she said simply as she tucked her head against the base of his neck.

The doubt that'd constantly hovered just off the edges this entire week clutched Shepard hard when she said this. Miranda must've sensed the stiffening of his body because she looked up at him in concern.

He thought about making light of his fear, even dismissing it, but Shepard couldn't help but recall his promise to hold truth as a lynchpin in their relationship.

"Is it the best option for you?"

She frowned at him, opened her mouth to say something and then closed it.

"You still wonder about that after this whole week?" She finally murmured in dawning realisation. "What does it take for you to stop asking that question?"

Shepard shrugged uncomfortably.

"I need more convincing, I guess."

The room lighting was dim, but he swore he didn't imagine the enigmatic smile on her face.

"Then you'll just have to keep on waiting."

He knew she was utterly serious despite her tone, but he couldn't help the fear that lurked around corners—that at the end of it all, something would go wrong and she'd say it wouldn't work out. The tendency to expect and receive bad news had been ingrained in him these last few years that it was a struggle to believe that things would actually go his way.

"Sorry, I just can't help feeling this is too good to be true," he muttered in explanation. "It's something that'll probably take me some time to get used to again."

She studied him and then gave him a tender kiss for his effort at honesty.

"If all goes well tomorrow, you'll have all the time you need. Frankly, I'm not immune to irrational jitters myself." Miranda confessed with a sigh. "Taking Ori with us to the tower is out of the question, but I'm not sure leaving her with Shan is the best option either. So far, the lack of any signs of incursions or spying makes me want to believe this place is indeed, safe, but I just can't help—" She shook her head here.

Shepard couldn't help his smile at how they seemed to be taking turns at assuaging each others' fears. He tightened his arms reflexively around her, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"Can't exactly safeguard Oriana further without drawing more attention to her whereabouts. And you'll go crazy if you try to prepare for every contingency. I think you've done the best you can." He paused and then added gently, "You won't like me saying this either, but past a certain point, you've got to let your little sister fend for herself, personal relationships and all."

"I can't. Not when my father is involved. So much of what he's done to us remains a mystery. And you know how much I can't stand mysteries."

"Did you mean it when you said you may have to resort to force dealing with Cordelia?"

"I really don't know." Her chest heaved in deep exhalation against his. "Cordelia's life in the tower—I have a good idea how that was like. I wasn't exactly what you'd call well-adjusted myself when I ran away at sixteen. And some things just stay with you for life. Throw in a decade's worth of being incarcerated by Cerberus, and I suspect she's further away from my comprehension than Ori ever was."

It discomfited Shepard to hear her speak of her social inadequacies in such an offhanded manner that he was compelled to speak up.

"Your past doesn't make you any less who you are. You know that as well as I. In fact, out of all of us, you're probably in the best position to understand her."

"I really hope so." Miranda murmured as she pulled the bed covers more securely around them in preparation for sleep. Moments later, when he turned off the light, she spoke up one last time, her voice carrying a strange mixture of nostalgia and resentment in the darkness.

"What I really can't get over is how my father continues to pull strings from the grave. I remember how everything was a kind of test for him, even the smallest of gestures. Giving me something I wanted badly or granting some special privilege almost always came with an ulterior motive which I had to keep guessing at. And it's still going on..."

Long after her breathing took on the regular rhythm of sleep, Shepard remained awake, his eyes staring at the darkened ceiling. Most people never question why they were born because the reason usually boiled down to pure serendipity. Not so for Miranda, however. She never did reconcile to her father's reasons for her conception, and thus the never-ending and obsessive drive to create existential meaning through her own pursuits. It was why despite her attempt to make light on how much becoming an outcast in Alliance space with him would cost her, Shepard knew what it meant for her to abandon the place and recognition she felt she'd finally earned for herself.

It was past time to find out what secrets laid hidden inside the tower. Some hurts would only heal through the passage of space and time. And for her sake, he wished that there was a peaceful way to reconcile the differences between Cordelia and themselves so Miranda could finally get away from this godforsaken place. Away from her father's influence to finally achieve peace with her origins once and for all.

-~o~-

The muscle relaxants seemed to be doing their job, but likely it was too early to make that prognosis, Miranda studied Shepard from the corner of her eyes as he flew the shuttle beside her. They'd tested the prescription over the last week, even putting him through strenuous workouts in an attempt to simulate combat situations. There hadn't been any real problems, although she had to keep refraining from insisting that he didn't push himself too hard. His life depended on it and they both knew that.

The past week had been heady, like walking around slightly drunk from fine wine. The sense that it felt right to express her happiness and affection for Shepard was something she'd never experienced before.

It was such a far cry from when they'd embarked on their clandestine relationship onboard the SR2. Back then, the whole set up came with so many restrictions that she never knew if and when it was going to fall apart. It was such a striking contrast to these past few days, when she felt more and more certain with every passing hour that she'd made the right choice. So much so now that it was hard reminding herself that the most crucial part of their mission still remained ahead.

Shepard had declared early on that he was putting himself under her command for the duration. Ironically, this was the first time that it was just the two of them in a long time. Privacy in the safehouse was impossible to guarantee apart from the nights, and tonight they would be testing out their professional relationship again so to speak.

The only catch was she wasn't sure that they could remain entirely professional, or if she even wanted it to be that way.

Shepard seemed to be holding his own well enough. His attention was mostly on the instrument panel as he made minute adjustments to smoothen out the shuttle's flight path. He could've given control totally over to VI pilot, but preferred to retain a human element to the operation. It was entirely the Shepard she'd known from before.

This past week has seen a gradual but discernable change in his behaviour. Watching him banter effortlessly with Oriana or discussing weaponry and ship specifications with Shan like two boys talking about their toys was like seeing him back on the SR2 again, playing the engaging commander who oversaw the needs of all his troops. Not just making sure they did their jobs, but also keeping them happy and cohesive. It was something that came as naturally for Shepard as breathing. She'd missed it terribly and was glad to see it back because she knew now he'd meant it when he said he'd get out of his funk.

One hundred metres below them, the darkened plains of Tasmania flew by under his skilful piloting. Straight ahead of them, Eldfell Tower, the two-kilometre tall monolith that dominated the skyline in these parts loomed nearer and nearer. Strategic lighting imbued the dark material that comprised most of the building with a strange, almost otherworldly glow, and Miranda couldn't help her heart seizing up spasmodically at the familiar sight again after so many decades.

Shepard must've sensed the change in her demeanour for him to speak the first few words since they entered the shuttle.

"Must be such a strange homecoming for you."

To call it that was both so apt and an understatement that she was at a loss over how to respond. The tower's construction had been highly controversial, with some hailing it as the landmark of Tasmania, while others derided it as an eyesore in an otherwise pristine landscape, now extremely rare on the planet surface. That sort of mixed reaction went straight to the bedrock of Miranda's innermost self. As the symbol of her father's presence and reach, the tower dominated her subconscious, even forming the stuff of her nightmares. But at the same time, it also constituted the earliest memories of her life. Painful as some of them were, they remained the psychological building blocks of her entire being. Coming back after the absence of so many years, they bubbled to the surface of her thoughts without any prompting.

Gently, she threaded her arms around Shepard's, taking strength from his newfound resolve as the fine details on the forbidding walls slowly materialised with the closing distance. No, they needn't be wholly professional, not where and when it didn't matter.

"I was nine when I discovered through the extranet how wonderful music was. The fine arts weren't part of my educational curriculum and I was expressively prohibited from learning an instrument," she murmured, her eyes mesmerised by the needle in the darkened sky. "I didn't know why, I just knew that I had to find a way to include it into my life. So I smuggled a violin into the tower with Niket's help and tried to teach myself how to play it."

It was her first rebellion of sorts. Back then Miranda couldn't understand why her father would deny her access to something so beautiful. Left to her own devices most of the time, she was, however, used to figuring out how to get what she wanted. In many ways, she realised now, she'd relished playing the role of a spoiled tyrant within her own little domain.

"The concept of basics wasn't something that made sense back then. Instead, I jumped straight onto mastering famous classical pieces. There was a beautiful piece that I'd loved very much-Bach's Violin Sonata No. 2, part two."

"It is beautiful. You showed me several renditions of that piece, I remember." Shepard replied quietly, his way of prompting that didn't break the line of her thoughts. A surge of appreciation for him welled up at the back of her mind even as the strength of the memory compelled onwards her accounting.

"I thought if I could show my father how well I could play the piece, he might be encouraged to change his mind, let me take proper lessons." She continued as she rested her head against his shoulder. "I remember practising for weeks until I got it right. Soon after, I finally got access to him in his office. He was quite surprised and I knew if I hesitated, it'd give him the chance to throw me out. My hands were shaking all the way, but by some stroke of luck, I still managed to give him a near-perfect recital."

It still stung—what came next, despite the passage of years, and it was with difficulty that Miranda swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"He just stared at me after I put the instrument down. In the end, he rose, took my violin away, and broke it into half in front of me before ordering me out of his sight. After that, he had his guards keep a close watch to make sure I'd never have access to another musical instrument. Or anything that would distract me from the things he wanted me to excel in."

It was funny how hindsight worked. Even back when they first met and she was telling Shepard about her father and griping over how he didn't treat her like a daughter, they were frustrations compounded by the fact that she never knew the reasons for his actions. If Cordelia was right about the genetic dynasty angle, then everything was only now beginning to make sense. All her attempts at pleasing him were, in fact, self-defeating right from the start because her personal achievements never did matter.

Shepard remained silent for a long time. Soon after, he set the shuttle on autopilot to follow the flight path that would take it to a designated landing pad before clearing his throat softly.

"Would you consider taking up music again after we relocate to Thessia? If you like, I could join you. I've always wanted to play the guitar, even though I know I don't have much in terms of musical talent."

Miranda bit back her smile. Now that was truly an understatement. Shepard was tone-deaf, although he vehemently denied it at every opportunity. She recalled their music sessions back on the Normandy, where they'd play for each other their favourite pieces. He had a strong preference for classic twentieth-century rock, while she leaned towards post-modernist compositions. After each session, he'd inevitably massacre her favourites through vigorous but tuneless whistling. He'd almost driven Oriana, who was musically-trained, mad over this past week for that reason.

But she knew what he was trying to give her. Reaching out a hand, she turned his face towards hers and gave him a deep kiss. Their moment of personal connection was unfortunately brief as the intercom pinged to life soon after.

"This is Omar Khalif, head of Eldfell security. We've received your pass codes. They're in order. You're good to land on Platform A2."

Shepard exchanged a look with her before they broke apart. She nodded at him to open the outgoing channel.

"Thank you, Mr. Khalif. I believe you've received my list of very specific instructions before this. I want a debriefing as soon as I reach your offices."

There was a brief pause here before the light on the incoming channel blinked green again.

"Are you aware that you're communicating over an unsecured channel?"

"Which is why I'm leaving the details for discussion later."

"Duly noted. I'll send a party to meet you on the landing pad. Welcome home, Ms. Eldfell."

All business again, Shepard thumbed off the autopilot and angled the shuttle towards the landing pad on the lowest tier of the tower.

"Now to see if our bait gets taken."

On her part, Miranda remained silent even as the massive tower soon occluded everything else from view.

Welcome home, Ms. Eldfell...

Walking through those halls and rooms again, after the absence of almost thirty years, was something she both dreaded and strangely looked forward to at the same time. As much as she'd like to think that she had moved past her father's influence in her life, the trip back here simply brought old wounds back forth to the surface for her to realise they weren't as well-healed as she'd thought they were.

She was sick of dangling on the web of secrets and intrigue he'd woven around her, sick of never knowing how and when she would be freed from his legacy. Perhaps it was time to purge the necrotic parts out, even if she had to lose something along the way. If that was the only way to finally achieve closure, so be it.

-~o~-

The bungalow was painfully quiet since Shepard and Miranda departed thirty minutes ago. Oriana felt no inclination to engage in conversation with Shan who was monitoring the security outpost, his eyes dutifully surveying every camera monitor located around the compound. Every now and then, he'd glance at her with ill-concealed concern, but she wasn't in the mood to assure him that everything was fine.

Arranging for her to join them at the tower once the area was secured—it was another damn excursion in making. To say that she was fed up of being the weak link in the chain, of being the ripe target for a kidnap situation was an understatement of epic proportions. She was so tempted to scream, to say damn it all to hell-that she didn't care if she was taken hostage again. It took all her innate honesty and reluctant sense of responsibility to recognise that would simply undo the painstaking lengths Miranda had gone through to ensure her safety.

And it was times like this when Oriana couldn't help but wonder how on earth her older twin could be so meticulously deliberate and patient all the time. To put it simply, they couldn't be more different people. It made her wonder sometimes if they indeed shared an identical genetic makeup.

"Shan?" she blurted the first thing that came to the thought of her mind. "What kind of genetic modifications did you get when you signed up with the Alliance?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Umm, the basic stuff mostly. I was created in-vitro, so a lot of hereditary problems were fixed right there. When I signed up, I got mods against eyesight deterioration, a slightly more efficient metabolism, some strength and reflex enhancements—mostly stuff that's legal under Alliance laws."

"I guess you wouldn't have the problem of waking up one day and finding that your very existence is against the law."

At his puzzled look, she went on to explain, "I can still remember the time when my parents got into trouble after I transferred to an all-human school on Illium, and broke just about every plausible record for track and field events. Back then, the human population on Illium was still under Alliance law, and the police got called in. My parents were almost charged for illegal genetic modifications on me, but managed to escape because my adoption records were so murky."

Oriana rolled her eyes at the memory. "It was the same spiel with my biotics. I used to think it would be fun to, y'know, show off my biotics when I was a kid. That almost landed my family in hot water several times too. I learned better when I got older of course. And that was when I started to wonder why the heck was I given all these gifts when I can't even use them openly?"

Shan frowned as he considered what she said.

"They may be illegal, but I think almost every soldier would kill to have the mods you and your sister have. Maybe not the biotics, but everything else for sure."

"But I'm not a soldier!" Oriana looked at his nonplussed expression and realised how petulant and dismissive that sounded. Temper, temper, she reminded herself. With an effort, she lowered her voice.

"Don't get me wrong, I know inconveniences aren't the entire package. Things like my looks and intellect had given me an edge all these years, but now that I know what I know, I have to wonder if the price tag is too high for the whole thing. Case in point—look at the situation we're stuck in right now. It just makes me wonder when all this need to skulk around will stop, when all this fighting will be over." Chasing an afterthought, she added more quietly, "Not to mention how it feels more and more impossible to be my own person..."

Shan looked on in earnest worry all this time as he gravely absorbed everything she said. When she was done with her rant, his face underwent a myriad of expressions as though he was looking for the correct response. Finally, he gave her a look of such conviction that she was almost taken aback.

"Don't ever say that. You're right. There's no need for you to be a soldier. You've done a great job distinguishing yourself from your sister without being one. I wouldn't want that changed at all."

Most people would consider Shan slow on the uptake, and Oriana had discovered that he could be incredibly dense at times, but it was something she chalked down as a male tendency to overlook emotional subtleties. What these few weeks of interaction revealed to her was the fact that Shan wasn't stupid; he simply weighed everything he said and did. Combined with the fact that he was honest to a fault, it made what he just said even more reassuring and precious to her. And in return, the only way she felt she could respect that honesty was to answer it as truthfully as she could.

"I know thanks to Miri, I probably had it the easiest among all our sisters." Oriana took a deep breath as she tried to explain the turmoil that had been bugging her since the recent insights into her past. "God knows how many of us are there out there—twenty, thirty, or even more? And that's the point—for all our genetic advantages, we can't escape the fact that we're all part of a production line, clones made for a purpose that doesn't care that we have our own personalities, needs or desires."

Shan was silent for a long while before he exhaled deeply. With one last look at the bank of monitors before him, he swivelled around, clasped his hands together as he looked at her seriously.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but if you have the chance to meet your other twenty, thirty sisters, would you want to?"

It was a good question, and one fraught with implications.

"I don't think so." Oriana bit her lip as she finally shook her head. "Every time I talk to Cordelia, I can't help but think that could've been me, and that scares me big time. And then I feel guilty because it should've been me. Even with Miri, I get that weird dissonance sometimes.' She lapsed into silence and then finally concluded with, "It's funny. I've always been curious to a fault. But in this case, I guess it's an experience I really don't want to go through twenty or thirty times over."

Shan was on his way to acquiring a perpetual frown at this rate, Oriana thought, as he clasped and unclasped his hands at the end of her explanation. Finally, it seemed as though he arrived at a decision and was in the process of getting up from his seat when his attention was piqued by something on one of the screens.

Immediately, that thoughtful frown changed nature, taking on a darker cast. Unholstering his weapon, he thumbed the safety switch off.

"Is something wrong?"

"Just checking on something." He gave her a smile which was supposed to assure, but failed to spectacularly, before making his way to the main door.

Despite being a non-combatant, Miranda had grilled her over basic safety considerations so often in the past few weeks that Oriana knew the last thing she wanted to do was to investigate the disturbance in person. A low conversation had begun at the door, murmurs too vague for her to single out any word.

She frowned. There was no reason anyone would come visiting at this hour. This was a pretty exclusive neighbourhood, and in the time they'd moved in, there were fewer than ten housecalls. Her eyes took in the bank of monitors that Shan was at and she rose from the sofa to take a peek at them.

What she saw puzzled the hell out of her, and sent alarm bells ringing at the back of her mind. Why on earth was Shan talking to Miranda? Why did her older twin return without notice? Oriana didn't recall hearing the shuttle land so how did Miranda get back to the bungalow?

It was impossible to remain a hapless spectator any longer. She absolutely had to get to the bottom of this, even as the sense of something terribly amiss began to permeate her. That dread was brought to sickening life when half way to the main door, she heard a thump—the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Oriana made a dash to cover the remaining distance and came to a skittering halt at the tableau that greeted her eyes—Miranda, fully attired in armour and long coat, looking on dispassionately at Shan before stepping over his comatose body to enter the safehouse.

"Should've done that right at the start instead of playing twenty questions with that blathering fool." Those unbearably glacial eyes finally latched on her, and a cold smile blossomed on Cordelia's face. "Hello again, Oriana."