A/N: I'm back with an update, pushing through writer's block and an increasingly busy RL to finally post something! Thanks to Danie-Dono, two guest reviewers, and bluumberry for your reviews last chapter and to those who have favorited or followed this story, despite my inconsistent updates.

-5-

"How much further do we have to take her? My arms are getting tired." This had been the third time in ten minutes the merc to her left (or as Shepard had identified him, the one who smelled like he had been rolling around in a mix of tobacco, alcohol, and his own filth) had griped about their task.

"Shut up, Melrose. Shepard said to take her down as far as we can. If we don't and she somehow gets loose, our asses will be on the line," the other merc shot back. Thankfully he only smelled like tobacco smoke.

"But Shepard's right here."

"The other Shepard, dumb ass."

For her part, Shepard hadn't said a word, showed any visible facial expression to their inane conversation. When the two mercs dragged her away from the clone, she hadn't resisted this time, not even a faint struggle, giving off the semblance of defeat.

Little did everyone else know she was stalling for time, trying to think of a plan, waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. That was the best she could do at the moment.

Though she couldn't deny it. Every maze-like turn in this place as they descended into the bowels had Shepard's heart sinking, an invisible knife stabbing at the hope she held inside her that she could get out of this, determined to make it bleed before it finally expired.

But she refused to give up hope, however slim it was. How many situations she had been in similar to this, on her own with no one on her six? Mindoir, Akuze, Aratoht. An even further laundry list of seemingly impossible missions.

All she needed to do was get out of their hold before they tried to lock her into that iridium vault. Because slowly suffocating in a dark vault was not on the list of ways she wanted to go out.

This was nothing she couldn't handle…right?

They encountered more mercs on the way, but they didn't stop to chat with them. All of them seemed intent on searching for something, as if their very existences depended on them finding it. What could possibly be so difficult to track down that a simple look-up on one of the terminals wouldn't lead them in the right direction? Was it something so top-secret that it didn't show up on average search results?

Her face was really starting to pound now. It probably was swollen as hell, cheeks all puffed up like one of those blow fish. So was her hand. She didn't think she'd be able to grip anything properly, leaving her with only one functional hand to punch, grab, and shoot with. Her head felt like raging Klixen were stampeding through it and she could already feel the planet-sized bruise growing on her knee-cap.

"Alright, this looks good. Set her down," the merc ordered with the same infliction as dumping a box of unwanted junk onto the floor.

The god-awful smelling merc who had forced her hands behind her back pushed her down to the floor none too gently, forcing her to land on her knees. She grimaced when her bruised knee made contact, but didn't let out a sound. She wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of hearing her in pain.

"After bitching at me for complaining?" the merc demanded sullenly, still keeping his pistol aimed at Shepard's head, in case she got any sudden ideas about bolting for it.

"We should be down far enough. We can't waste anymore time. She expects us to have found the biometric access log by the time she comes back," the other merc defended, walking over to a nearby console.

Biometric access log? Why would my clone be interested in something like that?

The merc named Melrose towered over her, a steely and unsettling glint in his eyes. "Sure we don't have time to have some fun with her, Hawkes?"

Shepard's face was blank, eyes pinpointed on him in defiance. She was in no way interested in the type of "fun" he was alluding to and he'd learn that very quickly.

Thankfully the other merc had more self-control and seemed completely uninterested at the thought. "The other Shepard'll have your head if she finds out you were fucking around."

Melrose shrugged. "She knew what she was getting when she recruited us."

"Not all of us are convicted rapists," Hawkes retorted before focusing his attention back on the terminal in front of him.

"And not all of us got booted from the Alliance for being hopped up on red sand job after job."

Hawkes was former Alliance? Maybe Melrose was too. And some of the other mercs.

Shepard had little time to ponder on this information before she heard the sound of grinding gears and a capsule spring forth from its containment, ready to share what it had been guarding. Or ready to trap a reluctant human inside, depending on how one looked at it.

"Your head and balls on the line, not mine." So much for his self-control. "Five minutes, then we gotta help find Shepard's log."

Mine?

Melrose reached out and roughly grabbed Shepard's chin, forcing her head up, his hand just as slimy as that batarian, so long ago, who had touched her, sneered (just as Melrose was doing) at how valuable a slave she'd be on the market.

"I'll only need four."

With a lightning speed and a fury possessing her she didn't know herself to be capable of, Shepard jerked her head and bit down hard on his wrist to make him let go, teeth digging down as hard and as far down as she could manage. In a furious shout of pain, the merc let go, clutching at his wrist, his pistol clanking to the floor. Shepard quickly dived for it with her good hand, instinctively reaching for her omni-tool to activate her cloak before remembering she didn't have it anymore. Or her omni-blade.

No helper aids this time. She was completely on her own, completely visible, with no real cover and a pistol that only had four rounds in it.

She fired one shot at Hawkes in the shoulder, just to stun him, but showing no such restraint for Melrose, aiming right at his head. The shot missed by an inch.

"Shepard's escaping! Need back-up at our location ASAP!"

That was her cue to run like hell.

Like she had suddenly sprouted wings, she flew through the vault quickly enough Hawkes couldn't shut the vault over her, back the way they had come.

She heard the pounding footsteps behind her, the shouts at her beckoning her to come back, that she couldn't possibly run forever. The shouts only seemed to grow louder with every step she took, the further back she went, meaning more mercs had heard the broadcast and were coming for her. Shots were fired at her, but all of them seemed to miss her, but just barely for some.

She had become accustomed enough to the click of a rifle as its owner prepared to shoot it, the release of a smoking thermal clip, the proximity of a shot as it sailed through the air and hit a target. Even though she couldn't see the shots, her body seemed to anticipate their approach and glide like on water through the room.

But she was still only human, prone to error like everyone. Her heightened senses were an advantage, but not a guarantee.

She only fired her pistol once at someone who had popped up from cover right by her, preparing to fire. Leaving her with only one more bullet. Without a ready source of thermal clips she could easily pick up (they were usually littered across every single battlefield plan, but of course when she actually needed one, they were nowhere to be found), her bullet was like a priceless treasure, to be guarded until the opportune moment.

She ran through any doors with green locks, losing track of where she was going, knowing all that mattered was getting away. Later, when things had calmed down, then she could kick herself about that.

Her years in the military had kept her in excellent physical shape. The job demanded nothing less. But even now, she was starting to feel a burning sensation in her lungs, her muscles weakening from lack of oxygen. Why the hell was her adrenaline draining away from her like this?

Damn it!

She skidded to a halt when she spotted the four mercs coming down the platform. She glanced behind her, Melrose and Hawkes on her heel along with another four others. She looked down at the platform below her.

Before she had time to think through the consequences of such a leap, she took off at a sprint, jumping over the railing, those few seconds of weightlessness as she flew through the air before gravity wanted to drag her back down the longest of her life.

She blocked out how reminiscent it was of the Collector Base.

Miranda and Garrus wouldn't be there to catch her this time.

She didn't look down at how far the fall would be if she didn't make it. She didn't need to know.

Her left hand brushed the edge of the railing, her hand screaming at her just for that small cotnacat. Her right hand had more reach and grabbed hold as her body slammed into the railing, her knee striking it right in its sore spot.

She flipped herself over the railing, barely missing a bullet as it nicked the railing right by her elbow, tumbling onto the platform. She rushed through the door straight ahead of her, continuing to run as fast as her legs would carry her.

She continued this vigorous pace until she entered another area with a bunch of desks and open vaults like the one with the info on that raid on the Cerberus facility. With no omni-tool, she couldn't lock the door behind her (she had never fully realized how much she had relied on the damn thing until now), so she went further inside the open room, taking cover behind one of the desks in between two of the vaults at the far end of the wall.

"What the hell did you get yourself into this time, Jane?" she murmured to herself, laying her aching head against the desk, repositioning it so the edge of the desk wasn't stabbing her in the back of the head. First she'd focus on getting her breathing under control again, examine her knee and hand and make sure they were still alright, then…

She had no idea what then.

Maybe she should have just stayed and fought. She could have probably taken them all with a pistol once she had found suitable cover. Was it because she had no sure-fire way to reload her weapon (not like that had ever stopped her before)? Recognized that maybe her hand-to-hand wasn't as up to par it should have been?

Or was it because she had allowed herself to get too reckless attacking her clone and didn't want to risk anything happening again?

Any way she sliced it, she was in it deep.

Least the fates had granted her this little respite. One good thing about running from the battlefield. She had seemingly lost them for the moment, but they would come looking for her and she'd have to be ready when they found her.

She pulled the strands sticky with flecks of dried blood away from her face, tucking them behind her ears again, careful not to press too hard down on her cheeks. They were really starting to throb now.

Focus, Jane, you need to figure out what's going on.

She had to get out of there before the mercs closed in on her again. Or worse, the clone lured her squadmates to their demise. She had to expose the fact there were two Shepards and she was the real one.

But what Hawkes had foolishly let slip in front of her. What the clone was looking for. Shepard's biometric log. Whatever the clone planned on doing with it spelled trouble for Shepard, of that she was sure.

"Why would it be of use to her? It wouldn't be the same…unless she changed it!" Shepard thought outloud, reaching that sudden epiphany.

If the clone somehow succeeded in changing the log, it would make it more difficult for Shepard to prove her true identity.

She had to find that log, make it so only she could access it at will.

How exactly she was going to do this, she was still working out. Maybe if she accessed a VI console, she could get a map, instructions on where to go. There were enough terminals to be had at the desks, if they were still operational. Or maybe if she was really lucky, she could find out where the other archivists were holed up and they could point her in the right direction.

She might even be able to figure out how to get the external comms operational again, if she knew where they were located and what was blocking the signals.

Completely focused on determining a solid, 90% fool-proof plan, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard an overly pleasant synthetic voice announce from nowhere, "Year 2157 CE, First Contact War, turian interrogation, vault T-91."

Wonder why it had suddenly activated. She hadn't hit any buttons, unless there was an invisible one on the floor.

Shepard turned to her right at the image that had suddenly appeared of two turians (one standing guard above the prisoner with his assault rifle close at hand) and a human sitting rigidly on one of those rock-hard bunk beds. Unlike the other vault regarding the Cerberus raid, the audio was not as distorted.

"Sir, we captured this human in the occupation of Shanxi."

"A human...you're the first I've met." The turian in charge sounded less than impressed with this first encounter.

"And you're the first bird I've met," the human replied levelly, seemingly just as unfazed, seeing them as nothing more than birds who had gotten lucky. She knew she should have tuned it out, re-focused on figuring out what to do about her current situation, especially when mercs could be at her doorstep at any moment, but she found herself transfixed at the record.

The young marine's comment reminded Shepard of when she had seen a turian up close for the first time on Mindoir. At eight years old, he had looked like a bird, a predator that could chew her face off if he wished. She remembered hiding behind her mother, who was just as terrified at the sight, but tried to make a brave show for her daughter.

If only her younger self could have seen her now, not only friends with a turian, but a mate of one to boot.

"He was armed with this weapon, sir." The guard showed his superior what looked to be a very basic heavy pistol.

"How primitive," the commanding officer sneered. "Your kind expects to win a war with this?"

The human remained completely emotionless. "A bullet is a bullet."

"You have so much to learn. And when we conquer your Earth, I look forward to teaching you."

Hard to imagine that was less than thirty years ago. Humanity's first steps into a much more expanded galaxy than they had previously believed and they just had to antagonize the most militaristic of the species.

Shepard was thankful relations between the two species had becoming much friendlier since that short time ago, though tension among some of those of the older generations would probably never fade. If the war had still been going on, Garrus and her would have been reenacting an adaption of that Shakespeare play her mother had read to her when she was fifteen, Romeo and Juliet. Not roles she would have wanted either of them to fill.

Garrus…

The clone's threat was coming back to her and no matter how hard she tried to dismiss it, she couldn't make it go away. Her friends and her mate had become so much to her. To lose any of them now, after they had lost so many because of this damn war. She didn't want to see anyone else to join Kaidan, Mordin, Thane or Legion on that wall.

She knew her friends knew her well. They would realize something was amiss, but would they realize it in time? And would they jump to the conclusion that the clone was an imposter? She didn't know if she would have if she was in their situation.

If I can't get to you all, please realize it in time…

She won't be able to keep up the charade for long, guys. She's not me, no matter how much she may want to be…

Garrus, please still be on the Normandy…please don't get taken in…

Please realize it in time…

A/N: Tune in next chapter for the moment, when Garrus finally meets up with the clone for the first time.