A/N: Many thanks to RevolutionAssassin, Blausen, Garrus Vakarian-N7, DandereGoneFishing, Mei-chiri for your reviews last chapter and to all those who followed or faved my story. Seeing the notifications come in for this story truly make my day :).
-17-
She was tired.
An understatement if there ever was one, but one she hadn't been willing to admit to herself until she sat propped up against the sheet music container stand. Maybe if she just closed her eyes, just for a moment, things would be better…
She pulled herself away from that dark precipice before she gave into its seductive call. She didn't want to go, she reminded herself through the fog in her brain. Not yet.
But it was scary how tempting it was.
She had left the music on, figuring out how to loop it. About the only useful thing she had been able to accomplish in there. It helped to hear it, fooled her into thinking she wasn't truly alone, like her parents were there by her side, keeping vigil over her. But it was nothing more than a shelter for her mind. She was alone and all signs were pointing to her dying alone. Just like last time. And it scared the hell out of her. Maybe her spirit had gone to a spiritual haven, but she just couldn't remember anything else except the all-consuming blackness.
She pushed her knees to her chest, curling her arms around them, remembering what one of her N7 instructor had taught her, a trick to help with breathing. Maybe it would buy her time. Or delay the inevitable.
She tilted her head back, gazing up at the chrome ceiling above her. She didn't want to die like this, but damn she was so tired.
She hadn't entered the military to become some type of galactic savior, but somehow because she had been in the right place at the right time, she had been thrust into the spotlight with everyone's hopes riding on her. Back in the Saren days, she had played along, allowing them to make her a Spectre, because it was the only way to bring Saren to justice and she saw it as a way to truly make a difference. A way to serve the Alliance and the galaxy as a whole. Helping people just as those who had rescued her from the smoldering ruins of her home colony.
Then it had spiraled out of control, turned into a bigger threat than she had ever imagined. The geth, the Reapers, her death, the Collectors, the Reapers again and Cerberus throwing wrench after wrench into allied forces' plans. She felt like she had been on a treadmill the past couple of years (especially now with the war in full swing), only catching a breath when she could spare it or allowed herself to. Or when others forced her to.
She stared right ahead now at the other end of the capsule, the light dancing off the walls in an almost relaxing way. Even it was trying to coax her into shutting her eyes, losing herself in the nothingness. There would be no more death and suffering, no more fear of failure. Wasn't that what she's been craving, peace at last?
The freshly promoted Lieutenant Commander Shepard would have given her a pep talk, told her to pick herself up and keep going. But she had begun to fade, all the layers of that persona peeled away to reveal the exhausted woman inside. She wouldn't make it much longer. She was already beginning to slip away and there was nothing she could do to stop it, every option for escape having fizzled away. She knew that. The haze had grown ever-more powerful, causing her to forget why she had stopped herself from slipping into the dark the first time. Her eyelids fluttered, begging her in the "on hands and knees" kind of way to close, just for a taste of it, her willpower waning.
She had just begun to shut her eyes when she heard it, his voice, as if he were right beside her, instead of god knows where, whispering softly into her ear in that deep resonance she loved, that had her eyelids snapping open more…
"Don't forget to come up for air. And not just because all these people need you…because I need you."
She didn't have the energy to cry, lament the fact she wouldn't be there for him like he wanted, like he needed. She had failed, in every sense of the word. She wished she could fight, resist what was to happen, but everything felt so fuzzy now, her lungs' plea for air building, her luck finally at an end. She was only one woman, no matter how godlike the galaxy made her seem; there was only so long she could last. But there was still one thing she could do and she couldn't…wouldn't leave without at least letting him know how she felt, without saying goodbye.
With every ounce of strength, she pulled up the message interface on Melrose's omni-tool and pushed "Record."
In retrospect, they should have seen this coming the moment they stepped inside the capsule and saw the barrier come down over them, that Jane's double would have a trap set up for them. Explained why she was so intent on fleeing them and not standing her ground, why she didn't make more of an effort to stay hidden.
There had been a mad rush on the part of the four of them to chase after her, catch her before her tactical cloak had time to fully recharge. His heavy armor did not make it easy to run fast, but still he did it as if his very being depended on it. All he could focus on was catching this woman, not the greater implication. Of how he hadn't seen it, of what she wanted, of what had happened to the real Jane, of where she was now.
He made sure to keep his gaze trained on her even when she disappeared, trusting the thermal tracker on his visor to keep her in sight. She led them on this merry chase through another door into another vault-filled area. He thought for a brief second they might get her, as she lost steam, arm hovering towards her rib cage. Then she bolted through another door, locking it behind her. Garrus made short-work of it, but it allowed her to re-enact her disappearing routine. He spotted an opening on the other side once they cleared the door. They rushed to get to it, only to have a barrier come around them half-way through.
"That can't be good!"
Miranda turned left and right, evaluating their situation. "Damn it, it's one of those capsules! It's sealed us in!"
"I warned you primitives they would devise a trap!"
"Is there an override?" Miranda asked, still looking.
"I'm not seeing one!" Garrus answered back.
Liara whipped up her omni-tool while pressing her fingers against her communicator. "Tali! Cortez! Glyph! Is anyone on this frequency?"
"The short answer is no, they're not," a smug voice stated from outside the forcefield.
The double revealed herself at the opposite end, but she hadn't been the one to speak. It was the other woman by her side, who had finally decided to crawl out from whatever rock she had been hiding under. No longer in dress and heels, but armor similar to all the other mercs. So they had planned this, been in cahoots with each other all along.
The imposter and Brooks approached them, both calm and unfazed when all four of them opened fire only to have the barrier absorb the blows.
"Hello, Miranda. It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Brooks asked sickeningly sweet, as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years.
"Hope," Miranda greeted coldly. "Or I hear it is Maya Brooks now."
"You wouldn't begrudge me multiple identities, would you? You of all people know what the Illusive Man is like."
Miranda's eyebrow shot up. "You're not Cerberus anymore?"
"You sound surprised. If you remember, Mr. Illusive and I didn't see eye to eye. He's indoctrinated, whereas I prefer the whispers in my head to be my own."
As most people did.
Throughout this exchange, Garrus could not take his eyes off Jane's double, though she showed no sign she was aware of his attention on her. She now stood with a haughtiness and an arrogance that Jane would never have displayed, never fit for someone with a modest nature as hers. How could he have not seen it all? The supposed memory lapses (hard to remember something when you weren't even there for it), the dress, the mannerisms, the anger outbursts, and that kiss. But in his wildest dreams he never would have expected it to play out like this. At least until he saw the tape.
More importantly, who the hell was this woman? How had she managed to make herself look and sound completely like Jane? Why go to all that trouble?
"If you broke away from Cerberus, why not come to Shepard? You could have worked with her," Liara argued, knowing just as well as he did Jane would have accepted the help. She had always been about second chances for any sincere in their need for redemption.
"In a way, we already did." Her callous eyes shifted back to Miranda. "No doubt she's told you I was the one who put together all those dossiers for the suicide mission. With the salarian doctor, the asari justicar, the turian…" The sneer grew on her face as she focused on Garrus. "Nice to have finally met you, Archangel."
"Charmed," he replied, the disgust in his voice matching hers.
"They were all mistakes," she continued. "We were a pro-human group who started looking to aliens for help. So I bid my time, found another who shared my beliefs."
"So what was the point of all this elaborate deception?"
"All we really wanted was Shepard's spectre code," Brooks said to Miranda.
"A waste of resources. It was clear you lured the Commander here for such a purpose. Why implant this traitor within our ranks to ensnare us here as well?" Javik asked with a scoff.
This time it wasn't Brooks who answered, but the imposter, speaking to them for the first time since they had discovered the truth. "Because I knew I would never fool my supposed friends for long. The ones who abandoned their duty to join the cult of Shepard." She pointed her finger at Javik. "Like you, Prothean. How many of your own men did you crawl over to make sure you survived?"
This wasn't right. She had Jane's voice, but the tone. Such disgust Jane only reserved for the lowest of the low, the bitterest of enemies, only when it was deserved. It didn't come as naturally as this woman made it seem.
Javik blinked twice, the only visible sign of anything close to an emotion on his face. "Their sacrifices were necessary, traitor. For the survival of our empire."
Instead of replying, she quickly directed her next words to Liara. "Or how about you, Dr. T'Soni? You're nothing more than a college cheerleader pretending to be a soldier."
Liara took a staggered step back, as if reeled by the comment, but the movement was so quick as to mask the effect its vitriol had on her. "It would be a grave mistake to underestimate my abilities."
Jane's double did not appear fazed in the slightest, ignoring the threat as she went on to the next victim of her verbal attacks. "And Operative Miranda Lawson. You would be nothing without your daddy's genetic enhancements."
Miranda didn't answer, her face white with anger. Even after his death by her hand, her father still appeared to be a hot topic.
Then she finally turned to him, saving her best for last. "Then there's you, Garrus Vakarian. Nothing more than a burnt-out cop past his prime hopelessly infatuated with a tired, old woman."
She then dug the knife deeper into his gut and if he hadn't known their communications had been tapped, he would have wondered how she had such intimate knowledge of their conversation. "And where were you when she went off to play hero again and got herself trapped here? You were too busy with your "calibrations" and bruised pride."
He'd give it to her. He did still sometimes think about it, his sudden departure from C-Sec, the failure to protect his men during his stint as Archangel. Worry that history would repeat itself and he would fail as Reaper advisor and squadmate. Fail to support the one woman that made the galaxy a better place, bring some sense to his world.
And she was right. If he hadn't let that tech get under his skin like that, been so cocksure and just left with Jane when she asked, she wouldn't have gone to the Archives by herself, unarmed and unarmored, endured Spirits knows what. The thought of seeing what that merc tried to do to her was enough to get his blood boiling, coax Archangel to come out of retirement and deliver justice so desperately needed.
"That "tired, old woman" is a better soldier and leader than you'll ever be," he shot back, trying to cover how much her comments got to him.
There it was again. The narrowed eyes, fury brewing on her face. Looks like she wasn't the only one who could hit a nerve.
Brooks stepped in between them. "If you were hoping for a last minute rescue, you will be sorely disappointed."
He didn't like the way she sounded so pleased. "Why's that?" They had seen the recording. They may have lured her there, attacked her, but she had avoided being captured. What wasn't Brooks telling them?
Brooks wasted no time pulling up a vid on her omni-tool, flashing the screen in their plain line of sight. Another security recording of two mercs dragging someone along to a capsule, same as they had been trapped in. Only when they placed the woman inside it could he properly see the face. His heart dropped and mandibles tightened against his face as he saw the mercs send the capsule back into its container, sealing her inside.
No…
"These capsules only have about an hour of air in them. Even if you escape, she'll be dead long before you can reach her."
His fists clenched at his sides. He refused to believe it. He couldn't. "You don't know her. She'll find a way." And if she couldn't, he'd find her. He'd get her out.
"So confident, Archangel."
He straightened his spine, taking the stance of the dominant, intimidating turian. "Just as confident as me tearing both your heads off and mounting them in the Normandy CIC the next time we meet." He added a sub-harmonic growl for effect, not that he had trouble forcing it through.
"I'll help!" Liara volunteered, sounding just as enthusiastic at the idea. He could have only imagined what the old Liara would have said. Probably would have seen as excessive violence.
Brooks crossed her arms over her chest, steadily meeting his gaze, jutting her hip out in a cocky manner. "That sounds very dramatic. But given your confinement, I don't think I have much to worry about."
The double then brusquely went over to the control panel to the side, clearly wanting to head out, done with conversation. Garrus followed her down the length of the capsule. She paid no mind to him, but he could spot a corner of her upturned lip, her anger gone as quickly as it had come. She clearly thought she had won.
"No one will ever believe you're her," he said in a final act of defiance, wanting to plant doubt and wipe that look of her face.
The clone's hands gave a slight twitch before they froze in place. She then spun on her heel to face him, but instead of the repugnant, intense anger he had hoped he'd goaded out of her again, the satisfied smirk was still in place.
"You all did."
She finished her work without any further rebuttal from him. What could he come back with? She was right, just as she was about him staying on the Normandy. They had had suspicions about her behavior, but never questioned who she was (though Tali had come close without realizing it). Would anyone else reach such a conclusion?
The woman finally finished at the console, the floor underneath them starting to vibrate and the capsule beginning to make a noise as if gears were warming up.
"Now if you'll excuse me, the Normandy needs its captain, so…" She shot them all a sneer. "I should go," she finished, the phrase in other circumstances much more humorous when said by another woman who would be a wealthy one if she had earned credits for every time she said it.
Brooks and the imposter barely had time to turn around before Miranda stormed up to the barrier in that self-assured walk of hers. It was the "you're not leaving my presence until I get answers" one. A favorite of hers back when she was on the SR-2.
"You're not walking away yet, not without telling us who you are. Or why the interest in this place."
Garrus half expected the both of them to do just that, walk away and leave them in the dark, just to spite her. But then Brooks let out a chuckle of dark amusement.
"You still haven't put it all together, Lawson? Have you forgotten? The contingency plans with Project Lazarus? For spare parts?" she stressed the last question.
It must have meant something to Miranda, as her face shifted, recognition mixed with growing disbelief. "The Shepard knock-off…"
Before the rest of them could utter a word, the capsule slid back into its holder, threatening to topple its occupants over and blocking their two captors from sight.
It was almost too good to be true. Everything was going off without a hitch. The four greatest threats to her would suffocate while the others of Shepard's team would be none the wiser, as her mercs broke them into smaller groups, lured them into ambushes.
Once they had gotten further away from the capsule, Brooks began to rely to her what she had learned from the mercs, what had transpired while they were gone. Shepard had created casualties everywhere she encountered their forces, proved difficult to subdue. The captain of the mercs and leader of one of the squads, Gordon, had been one of the victims.
No huge loss. He had always been belligerent, she thought.
Brooks then informed her per CAT6 protocol, his top lieutenant had assumed his position. She had begun to tune out, Brooks's voice having that effect when listening to it for long stretches, when Brooks brought her back with her chastising, which she had been expecting from her when they first met up again.
There had been too many close calls playing it her way, too many opportunities for things to go wrong, Brooks berated.
She did not see the issue. They had accomplished what they wanted, hadn't they? Shepard was dead (or soon would be) and the others would follow, leaving the way clear to assume control.
And the pilot, Brooks demanded. He hadn't come with the others. What were they to do with him?
She assured her next time he came to pick them up, he would be dealt with.
Too many of their merc-force and resources had been wasted, Brooks continued to argue with the disagreeing frown that drove her crazy. She still didn't understand what she hoped to accomplish doing it this way.
She barked at Brooks that that was enough. She was in command, not her. She didn't need her opinion. All that mattered was that the plan had worked. She did not want to hear anymore of her complaints.
Brooks clammed up as she requested, but the sullen, displeased look on her face did not disappear. Why was it hard for her to understand? Her orders and her opinions were the only ones that mattered. She was the Commander, not Brooks. Did she not have faith in her abilities?
She thought back to the turian. The way he spoke of Shepard with such genuine conviction and belief in her, just as so many others did. She was the real deal to them, not a knock-off. She couldn't recall a time she had heard such devotion from Brooks or any of her mercs, even when Brooks first told her she was the real Commander Jane Shepard...
She scowled. What was wrong with her? Around Shepard's crew for an evening and suddenly she gave way to such foolish thinking? She didn't want peoples' admiration for the person she was, but for the command she held. How else would they understand their place?
She had to brush such thoughts aside. It wasn't important. Like it or not, she would be the only Shepard left, with the name, Spectre rank, and the fingerprints to prove it.