A/N This Chapter has an extended, explicit version on AO3. Look for me under Forlorn_Melody if you're interested in reading it.
Bet you she hasn't even told you her real name.
The message arrived in her omni tool late the night before, and the Clone tossed and turned for hours over it. For someone so high on the Cerberus food chain, Kai Leng sure can't keep top-secret information to himself. Maybe the Illusive Man is losing his touch, if he can't keep his personal lap-dog in line. No wonder Maya left.
But Maya isn't her real name, is it? The Clone knew that already, knew 'Maya Brooks' is just another identity her partner forged to protect herself, protect both of them, really. For an arrogant idiot, Leng sure knows how to push her buttons.
I sent those mercs after her. Planned to have her sliced and diced in front of you, see what sort of reaction they'd get. Maybe you are more than spare parts.
The Clone is tired. Not just exhausted, weary, of being pulled in every direction. But she can't help but entertain Leng's offer.
Call me and I'll tell you the truth. Won't matter in the long run, anyway. Once Cerberus gets what it wants you'll all be thrown in the vats.
He left an IP address. The Clone deleted the message, but it's already imprinted on her brain, along with the numbers. She waits until Maya leaves her alone to put on her armor, and then she makes the call, using a scrambler to mask her camera like a one-way mirror.
At least partially Asian features sneer back at her, though his eyes are concealed by a mask. Cerberus tech, probably, though the Clone isn't sure of the purpose beyond making him look like some comic book super villian. "Bout time you called me."
"You have 60 seconds." Maybe longer, if she can back trace the call.
"What is the name she's using now? Brooks?" How would he know? Fear seizes her veins, and then the Clone remembers that the mercs would have likely passed on that information when they intercepted Maya. The Clone does her best to keep her face level.
"Brooks was an old friend of hers. One she shot to death before taking her ship. Bet she didn't tell you that." Leng is trying to get a rise out of her, and the Clone deliberately takes slow breaths to not shout.
"Rasa is the earliest name we have on record. Best we can tell that was the name she had at birth."
"What's your point?"
"You do realize she's using you? That she'll dispose of you like the rest when she's done with you? You know it. She knows it. That's why she won't leave you alone."
Leng smirks. "Bet you had to steal a moment by yourself to make this call, didn't you? Nice armor, by the way."
The Clone's eyes widen before she can stop herself.
"Yeah. Don't worry. We already have people on the inside. We already know your plan-and that you'll fail."
The Clone manages to snort. "You're not even worth my time." She disconnects the call. Asshole.
"Who were you talking to?" Maya steps up behind the Clone, eyeing them both in the reflection, as she wraps her arms around her.
"No one." The Clone lays her hands on top of Maya's...Rasa's….She's starting to get a headache. "I was...rehearsing. For when we take down Shepard."
Maya leans her head against hers. "For when you take down the Cult of Shepard." Her fingers fiddle with the ends of the Clone's hair, brushing the baby smooth skin of the Clone's jaw with her knuckles. "But that will come later." She smirks into the mirror. "Right now, I need to peel this armor off of you piece by piece."
Maya slides to the floor, breathing heavily. "Where'd you learn that?"
The Clone digs around for a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. She ignores the question, popping the cork and plopping down next to Maya instead. Pouring them both a glass, she hands one to her partner. "How are we playing this?"
"Mm?"
"With Shepard."
Maya leans her head against the Clone's shoulder. It's as sexy as the time they just spent together. "Mm...I was thinking of presenting myself as some sort of Alliance operative-trying to save her from the mercs wanting to kill her."
"This'll be good. Do I get to watch?"
Sipping her wine, Maya replies. "Only from the security cam."
"I get access to the com channel."
"Only if you keep quiet."
"Fine." The Clone also takes a sip. Maybe more than a sip. Who's going to stop her?
They sit in silence, polishing off their glasses and filling them again, until the bottle's empty. "Mm. I need a background." Maya eyes the bed thoughtfully. "What's my role in the Alliance?"
The Clone snorts. "Probably a desk-minder."
"Oo. yeah." Maya licks her lips, giggling. "Staff analyst or some bullshit like that."
"Names her hacking program after her cat."
Maya snorts. "Something ridiculous."
The Clone intends to point to well, emphasize her point, but falls into Maya's lap instead. "Mr. Biscuits!" The s's comes out slowly like a long, sluggish hiss.
"Oh god." They both dissolve.
Much later in the night, after she's passed in and out of slumber, the Clone finds a question lingering at the edges of her mind. "Maya?" She's sobering now, enough for the question to bother her, but she's still tipsy enough to find the courage to ask it. "Where will we be after this is all over?"
Maya stirs, not bothering to open her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"After we take out Shepard, and the Reapers, then what?"
Maya, Rasa, whoever she is, looks at the Clone finally, sitting up against the pillows, the sheet falling down to her stomach. "I'm sure the galaxy will still have plenty of wrongs to right."
The Clone nods, but she isn't reassured. "I know that. I mean...us. Are we still...going to be together?"
Rasa reaches over, pushing the Clone's copper locks out of her face. "Of course."