A/N Hoo boy. I hope you all weren't expecting a happy-go-lucky healthy romance, because this fic ain't it.
The Clone enrolls at a commando training center. Her classmates differ from the picture the vids paint. These Asari lack wisdom and grace, and they're not constantly trying to get into her pants or her mind, as the Extranet discourse would suggest. Their skin varies in shade, and they come in all heights and sizes, but the Clone's classmates all have one thing in common: their biotics all surpass hers.
When she's upset or angry, the clone can feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She smells the metallic tang of eezo in her nostrils, tastes it on her tongue. If she's not thinking about it, sometimes the Clone can make a coffee cup rattle. One time she shattered a vase. Now? When she wants to use her biotics? Nothing. Well, not exactly.
Their instructor, Nessa Tandros demonstrates a biotic pull. The glass rises gracefully in the air without spilling a drop of the water inside it. It's only when Tandros looks directly at her and gestures with her hand that the Clone realizes she's being called upon to join in the exercise. "Ana Fields?" Tandros frowns. "That is your name, isn't it?"
If only, the Clone thinks as she moves to the front of the room. She tries to raise the glass like the instructor did, and nothing happens. Doing her best to remember what the biotics feel like, the Clone manages to make the glass rattle, and spill the water a little. Her classmates snicker softly.
"Mm. Perhaps we can work on this after class Miss Fi—" Tandros gasps as the glass shatters against the ceiling.
Her classmates erupt into laughter. The clone's cheeks grow hot as she stares at her hands. She's too stunned to feel angry at the prospect of cleaning their training area for the next week. Even though the clone hears the sniggers and whispers behind her back after her 'accident,' she can't help but feel proud of her accomplishment. Let her fellow students make fun of her—she'll show them exactly what she's made of.
One classmate starts up a conversation a few days later as they drill biotic pulls.
"My name's Dreya." She pulls the box with one lift of her index finger, though it wobbles in the air. "What brings you to Hayeiana?"
Keeping her eyes on the box, 'Ana' mutters her reply. "I want to improve my biotics." The box wobbles, but remains firmly planted on the table in front of them.
"Clearly." Dreya murmurs dryly, scooting closer. "Here, let me." She grab's the Clone's wrist, steadying her hand, and the box. Her blue fingers slide across her palm, outlining the muscles connected to the nodules.
Ana gasps, and moves without thinking. Five heartbeats later Dreya's arms are pretzeled behind her, and the Clone has the Asari's face pressed against the table. "What the hell-?" Dreya starts to hiss, but Tandros interrupts them both.
"Impressive, for a human."
Ana drops Dreya's arms, stepping back. She realizes belatedly that she had never been in danger. Asari are sensual, touch-driven—the implants finally inform her. Her classmate's grasp had been a gesture of help—possibly something else.
Tandros grasps Ana's shoulder so firmly it hurts. "But hand to hand training will not start til next week."
Feeling the stares of the entire classroom, Ana nods.
Releasing her grip, Tandros adds, "I think you'll make an excellent Vanguard, Miss Fields." It's the same class as Jane Shepard. Should the Clone be elated or disappointed? She isn't sure.
Watching Tandros return to the other side of the room, Dreya moves to the other side of the table, putting it between them. "What was that for?" She whispers fiercely.
"You grabbed me."
"I was trying to help!"
Nodding, Ana answers softly. "I know." This fails to satisfy her partner, and so she adds with a small smile, "Could you show me again?" She holds out her hand.
Dreya returns to her side. "Are all humans this high strung?" She hesitates, then grasps Ana's hand a second time.
The Clone shrugs, concentrating on the direction Dreya's fingers pull her skin. She takes a breath, smelling something fruity on the Asari's skin. Do they all smell so nice? Ana lifts her fingers, imagining the static on the back of her neck traveling down her arms. The box lurches.
"Whoa! Easy. Not so much." Dreya's grip tightens, and Ana relaxes her muscles. The box rattles slightly as it drops back onto the table. Her breath tickles the Clone's ears. "Wow, you really are a Vanguard."
It takes countless tries, but eventually, the Clone can pull the box without breaking it against the ceiling, or herself. Her shoulder aches, and her stomach growls angrily at her.
Dreya tosses her a protein bar. "Say…why don't we hang out sometime?"
The Clone itches to leave the confines of this facility, and the apartment she shares with Hope. Though she's only seen glimpses of Hayeiana through the windows of the skycar she takes to training, the Cone knows Serrice is beautiful and she wants to see more of it. She nods.
"How about tonight?"
Ana's mouth drops open before she can reply. Hope has scheduled an appointment with Rana to check her implants. She knows by now about the Clone's outbursts, and she wants to fine tune the work the scientist has done. Last night the Clone looked up cybernetic implants on the Extranet, and she shudders, remembering how graphic the procedures described. Getting to know Dreya sounds far more pleasant. Nodding, she replies. "I'd like that."
It's her first act of disobedience.
She sneaks in through their bedroom window, after hours spent at the arcade with Dreya. The Clone is breathless, and full of warmth. All of the vids in the world failed to describe how much fun a few games could be—especially when she won. Tempering the warmth is the cold feeling that she…she went against Hope's wishes. Another part, darker, quieter, and farther inside reminds her that Hope won't have to find out.
Just as she closes the window behind her, the lights switch on. The Clone shields her eyes as she feels her heart race.
"You missed our appointment."Hope stares her down, leaning against the opposite wall, her finger still on the switch.
The Clone remembers her lesson. "What appointment?"
Hope's eyes flash and her voice rises. "You know what appointment!" She steps closer with each word. "Where were you?"
She lies a second time. "Wiping down the mats took longer today." The Clone tries to will her heart to slow. Surely Hope can hear it pounding through her chest.
Hope brings up her omni tool, keying in a couple commands. "Then why do I have footage of you three kilometers away?"
The security footage is grainy, but there's no mistaking her dyed-brown hair and curious eyes, walking down the corridors with an Asari at her hip. Her cheeks flush, betraying her. "That isn't me."
Hope's nostrils flare. The Clone's implants scream in warning, but she still doesn't see the slap coming until it slams across her face. "Don't ever lie to me."
Her eyes ache and she feels something wet forming at the corners. Tears. Why is she crying?
Hope seems surprised too. Her eyes widen as her hand falls to her side. She turns abruptly, ducking into the bathroom, and returning with a damp cloth and a tube of medigel. Brushing the blood from the cut on the Clone's face, she says softly, "Everything I do, I do to make you better. Stronger. Invulnerable."
"Then why do you hide me here?" The Clone shifts on her feet, craving and dreading Hope's touch at the same time. "How am I supposed to be better if I'm tucked away as soon as my training sessions end?"
The medigel is cool on her skin, and the pain numbs almost immediately. "You're not ready yet."
"You teaching me to infiltrate!" The Clone clenches her fists. "I'm infiltrating!"
"You were to remain inconspicuous." Hope's voice remains the same volume as always, but it shakes with fury. The Clone has never seen her so angry. "This is far from it." Hope's fingers linger on her skin. "Promise me you will break it off." It's the first time Hope ever asks anything of her, rather than giving her orders. The Clone isn't sure what to feel about it.
"I promise." It's the first lie she ever tells her.
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