A/N: Okay so I'm really sorry if this is a bad chapter and horribly edited as I wrote it all this morning. I got a call that my mom collapsed at work and was sent to the hospital, so naturally, being the calm cool and collected young adult that I am, I proceeded to freak the fuck out and started pacing frantically around the house. With no car to get to the hospital, when I relaxed a bit I sat myself down and began to type to steady my nerves as I waited for text updates. We're in the clear now, but good god was I scared.
Anyways, this chapter was composed through my literal blood, sweat, and tears…except I wasn't bleeding…or sweating…our house is actually unreasonably cold, but I was doing a lot of crying, so there. When I sober up a bit I'll probably come back and reread this with a clear head to clean it up a bit, but I wanted to post it so I could continue moving on in the narrative as I still feel like I need to keep writing today. I might even try to work on my other story as well.
Blah, that got long. Anyways, my point is, this is lower quality than usual but oh well, and that I hope everyone is happy and healthy and remembers to let the people they love know it once and awhile.
So here is a chapter in which Miranda is an emotionally unstable wreck pretending to be cool and Shepard is just as confused as always because she is a dork.
"What?" Shepard moved in closer, curiosity superseding the desire to withdraw from the drama. She peered over Miranda's shoulder once more.
Miranda wasn't even bothering to open the folders, she was merely shifting through them rapidly, and Shepard's eyes widened as she watched the names labeled go by. Dawn, Abigail, Elizabeth, Oriana, Gwen…
It didn't stop, but eventually Miranda did. She couldn't bring herself to discover another. "This is just," she trailed off, her disbelief palpable.
Shepard leaned past her to pick up a folder to investigate for herself. Scrawled across the corner tab in messy cursive was the name Brianna. She opened it, scanning the information inside with a measured gaze. Everything was there. Name, height, weight, age, special skills… number.
Eyes narrowed, she tossed the folder back onto the table, grabbing another. This one read Trinity, and contained much of the same details. She traded it for a third folder. Numbers, all of them. He had given them numbers.
She gritted her teeth, and then turned to Miranda who stood by the table, face pale, fists clenched.
"I don't understand," she mumbled, voice weak.
Shepard shook her head, hating the words she was about to speak. "Is it really a surprise? You knew what he was like."
"No." Finally, Miranda managed to meet her gaze. "My father was an egomaniacal asshole, but he wasn't insane." She gestured towards the mess they had made of the table. "What is he even doing with all of this? What could he possibly hope to accomplish?" Her tone betrayed her surprise, her disgust. "It was always about preserving everything he built, creating the ideal heir for his twisted empire. But this?" Her voice wavered and she turned away. "How many of them are there? This is madness. It's an obsession."
She quieted, looking pensive. "How unhinged has he become? What drove him to this?"
"Hey," Shepard cut in quickly, knowing where that line of thinking would take Miranda, "don't do that. Them being created is not your fault."
It was as though Miranda was unable to process her words. "How could I have been so naive?" She ran a heavy hand through her hair." I should have destroyed everything when I took Ori, but I was just too scared."
She turned on Shepard, her eyes swimming with some unknowable emotion. "I was afraid it would force him to hunt her down. If I erased his progress he would be forced into tracing her, into stealing her back rather than starting over from scratch." The way she was looking at Shepard, the way her voice trembled, it was clear what she was doing. Looking – asking – for forgiveness. "But this, I never knew it would come to this."
"You weren't naïve," Shepard insisted, desperate to pull Miranda out of the inevitable downward spiral she was collapsing into. "You were a child," she pressed, "and you needed someone just as much as Oriana needed you."
Uncomforted by the words, Miranda pulled away, folding her arms around herself tightly. For so long it had been her, alone. The survivor. She was the only one who could ever understand what it had been like, the abuse she had suffered. Now though, there was suddenly a pack of them, all having endured the same treatment.
"I let him do this, create all of them."
"Don't." Shepard reached for her tentatively, gently grasping her arm and pulling her close once more. "We'll sort it out, we'll find a way." She didn't stop at the doubtful expression Miranda offered her. "Please, just don't do this to yourself. I may not know the situation, but we'll figure out how to help them. Just please don't regret their existence. Don't regret them being made."
"How could you say that?" Miranda snapped, voice cold. "After everything I've told you, everything you've seen?"
Shepard gave Miranda a meaningful look, and her arm a gentle squeeze. "How could I ever completely tarnish the work he's done?"
"Shepard…" Miranda all but sighed out, shaking her head.
"I know you need me on this," Shepard replied quickly, cutting her off, "but I'm sorry, I just can't." She took a deep breath, her hand slowly trailing up Miranda's arm. "Whatever happened, whatever led him here, put this dream in his head, I can't-" She swallowed hard, her hand sliding behind Miranda's neck, tugging her closer.
"I just can't hate it. I've tried so hard, because I know I should despise this." Their foreheads gently met, and Shepard's eyes squeezed shut. "The only thing I can't stand is how guilty it makes me feel that I'll never be able to hate whatever insane compulsion drove him to bring you to life."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing herself as close as she could manage. "I'm so sorry. It's selfish, but I just can't because every time I try, I'm just so happy you're here."
Though she could easily pull free, Miranda didn't. She remained still, stagnant and silent, and Shepard wasn't keen to let go. "So please, let's finish what we came for. We'll get out, take a step back, and figure out how to help, I promise. We'll do whatever it takes, but for now, let's just get you out of here."
Miranda swallowed, trying her hardest to stay together. Too much was being thrown at her. She felt as though she were drowning, struggling to stay afloat against an impossible current. She needed space, time. A chance to sort through her every thought and emotion.
Shepard knew that, but she was also right. They had a job to complete. The rest would come in time, she would have to make what peace she could with the situation later. Miranda pulled away gently.
"Okay," she replied softly, swallowing her guilt. "I'll keep looking."
With a simple nod, Shepard took a step back, offering the space Miranda clearly desired. She allowed a bit of time to pass before speaking again, taking a few moments to pace the room, moving to the doorway to peer out and ensure the coast remained as clear as when they had first entered. Confident it did, she returned to Miranda's side.
"Miranda, I know I promised no questions," she said softly as she watched the woman work, "but things are getting pretty out of hand. Why are we here?"
Miranda stilled for a moment, and then continued her work, avoiding looking towards Shepard entirely. "Liara asked me to come," she replied evasively, "I guess she figured my past would give me an edge." When Shepard cleared her throat, she let out a heavy sigh. "What I told you before was the truth, The Illusive Man and my father have been in contact."
"About?" Shepard pressed.
Miranda hesitated. "I haven't seen the Intel myself," she admitted at length, "but Liara appears to be under the impression it involves the Reapers. This was a last resort for her. Cerberus is up to something. They needed manual access into their servers, but apparently all of the power of the Shadow Broker isn't enough to track down the Illusive Man. When she failed she knew my father was the only sure target. He won't have the information the Illusive Man does, he wouldn't be trusted with too much, but he is a link."
She paused in her work and opened a folder, skimming its contents. "That's all we need, an open correspondence. Liara merely required me to plant the seed." She flipped through a couple pages as she spoke. "We do our jobs right, and my father will let us right into Cerberus systems without even realizing it. From there, Liara will handle the rest, and we'll find out what the Illusive Man is planning."
Shepard's eyes widened in alarm. "Shouldn't I have responded to her message? It may have been something important about the mission."
Miranda dismissed her concerns without so much as glancing up. "No, it wasn't."
"How could you possibly know that?" Shepard questioned, incredulous.
"I uh," Miranda glanced over at her, "I wasn't supposed to bring you." She had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Liara thought it would be too risky, and I agreed. If she had any information she would have sent it to me."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Shepard crossed her arms, failing to contain her agitation.
"I told you Shepard," Miranda reminded her distractedly, unbothered by her obvious irritation, "returning to Earth is as good as flat out asking the Alliance to lock you up again."
Shepard didn't even bother responding. They had argued about the topic enough. Besides, Miranda clearly had discovered something of value in her search, and was far more interested in pursuing it than continuing the conversation.
With a heavy sigh, she let the issue drop. Miranda was being strong for her sake and holding herself together until they could complete their task, she didn't need Shepard being on her case about an old dispute on top of everything else.
Deciding to make herself useful, Shepard began stacking up the folders Miranda had already gone through and discarded as useless, returning them to their proper cabinets. They needed to be sure they left the room as they had found it. When she came upon the folders pertaining to the individual girls they had discovered, she hesitated.
"Uh," she paused, reluctant to bring up the topic once more but left with no other choice, "should we hold on to these? If we're gonna, you know, come back, should we copy down the information or something?"
Miranda glanced up, features pained. "Put them back, I have the information I need."
"Are you-" Shepard started, but found herself immediately interrupted.
"Just put them back."
"Okay." She lugged them over and tucked them safely away.
"We need to get to the basement," Miranda said suddenly, just as Shepard was pushing a heavy drawer back into place.
"The basement?" she questioned curiously as she stood, brushing at her pants where she had knelt down.
"Look," Miranda said as Shepard moved beside her, leaning a bit to the left to give her companion a better view. She pointed at the paper in front of them, which Shepard quickly realized was the layout plans of the very building they stood in.
"Here, this is what we were looking for," Miranda explained. "Liara and I figured there would be facilities off his official records, but see here?" She dragged her finger along the plans. "There is an underground network that leads to a facility on the other side of the river. I wouldn't doubt it if that's where the," her voice faltered, and she swallowed, "other girls were created." She cleared her throat, tapping their destination. "Any useful data on the exchanges between my father and the Illusive Man would most likely be sent through there. Not a guarantee, but a good start."
Shepard nodded her understanding. "Have you ever been there?" she ventured.
Miranda shot her an exasperated look. "This isn't the house I grew up in, Shepard. After I fled he had to change everything. I knew too much, it would have been easy to exploit all of his weaknesses if I had gone to somebody who wished to do so. He had no choice but to move his work to another location."
"Oh, wow," Shepard mused. "I just assumed, I mean," she scratched at the back of her head, embarrassed, "you really seemed to know where you were going."
"How many times do we have to go over this, Shepard? Never infiltrate a building until you've memorized the floor plan." Try as she might, the annoyance in Miranda's voice was completely fabricated.
"Right," Shepard dropped her gaze to the floor in mock shame as she replied.
Miranda failed at fighting off a soft smile. She knew Shepard was worried about her crumbling under the weight of the things they had discovered, and was doing everything in her power to keep Miranda distracted and laughing. Though it may not have been working in the slightest, that didn't make the effort any less meaningful.
"Where would you be without me?" she teased lightly.
Shepard grinned at her. "Dead."
They were travelling through the darkened halls steadily, Miranda taking the lead in her directional confidence. Shepard was happy to trail behind, keeping an eye, and an ear, out for trouble. As soon as they had gotten everything cleaned and sorted in the other room, they had set out for the entrance to the basement with hurried steps.
Shepard was keen to escape the estate before they ran into any trouble, and Miranda was simply keen to escape in general. All she desired was a good night's rest and some time to herself to breathe. The mystery of Cerberus' involvement with the Reapers was certainly weighing less heavily in her mind than it had upon their arrival. She was ready for this particular expedition to be over.
"Can we pick up the pace a bit?" Shepard whispered up from behind her.
Miranda turned to give her a curious look. "We shouldn't rush unnecessarily," she chided. "We can't afford to make any foolish mistakes."
"I know," Shepard returned in a hoarse whisper as Miranda faced forward again to continue on their path, "I just feel antsy, like something's not quite right." She trailed Miranda closely down the hall. "I keep getting this feeling," she admitted quietly, "Like something's just going to pop out and-" Shepard had peered over her shoulder while talking, and now went silent.
Miranda froze mid step at Shepard's abrupt cut off, and spun around on her heels to find the woman staring down the barrel of a gun. Her heart leapt into her throat as she studied the figure behind the weapon. It was a woman, a girl.
Shepard silently cursed their misfortune. Of course the one event that she had never wanted to happen had. It was apparent just what kind of girl this was.
She was similar to Miranda. She had the same physical build, the same facial structure, the same fire and intensity in the deep blue of her eyes. Her hair was a shinning blonde however, almost illuminating in the dark hallway.
Apparently Mr. Lawson's tastes had changed over the years.
Futilely, Shepard attempted to pin the girl down in her mind, to attach her to one of the many files and photographs they had sifted through earlier. Her endeavor failed however as a flurry of activity burst beside her, drawing her attention.
Miranda's pistol was trained on the stranger in a flash, finger poised over the trigger.
"Woah," Shepard exclaimed in alarm, placing a gentle grip on Miranda's arm. "Stop, Miranda, she's like you."
"No," Miranda's voice was cold, her expression tight. "She's nothing like me."
The girl's pistol remained trained on Shepard, but her focus was entirely on Miranda, eyes wide in confusion and alarm. "Who are you?" she breathed out in an unsteady voice.
Shepard slowly raised her arms up in an act of surrender. "We're not here to hurt anybody," she soothed.
It was clear the girl's interest rested only in Miranda however. "Where did you come from?"
Miranda didn't respond, keeping her weapon steadily focused on the younger girl. Shepard could scarcely believe what she was seeing. Waving a gun in her face was no way to gain the girl's trust.
"Let's all just take a breath," Shepard tried with authority.
For her part, the girl appeared more confused than malicious, but Miranda's expression far from softened. Shepard could practically feel the tension in the air surrounding them, the darkness of the hall closing in, compressing the space around them.
Shepard knew this feeling, this build up. A shot would be fired. It was going to happen, it was only a matter of time. Something just needed to act as the catalyst, the trigger.
And then it happened.
"Gwen?" The voice was soft and small and faraway. Shepard had to squint to see the tiny figure hiding in the shadows at the far end of the long hall. "What's going on?"
The young girl that had appeared had a voice that was soft and sweet, even as it trembled in obvious fear and confusion. Tentatively, she moved closer to the action.
"Don't take another step," Miranda ordered, her voice taking on a tone Shepard had not heard from her in months.
"Miranda," she chastised loudly in obvious shock at the woman's attitude.
"Contact father," the girl they could now confidently identify as Gwen called back boldly over her shoulder, her gun never wavering.
"I said don't move," Miranda shouted venomously when the smaller girl attempted to follow her sister's orders.
The girl froze, clearly uncertain of whose command to obey.
"Go," Gwen shouted, spurring her into action once more.
The girl took off like a shot, disappearing around the corner, and in that instant Shepard knew what would happen next. The outcome only depended on who was faster, and she was determined to make sure neither option occurred. Gwen's finger twitched on the trigger, and there was no choice.
Shepard lunged at their attacker, throwing everything she had at the girl. A shot blasted into the ceiling as Shepard knocked Gwen off balance, sending them both careening gracelessly onto the carpet. The girl, plainly too stunned to react, had the wind knocked out of her on impact. She lay gasping on the floor as Shepard rushed to pull away from her, scrambling to her feet and grabbing Gwen's weapon before turning to her companion.
Miranda wore a curious expression as she stared down at the defenseless figure.
Gwen was on the ground, leaving Miranda with the perfect shot. It would be so easy to end it, to put a bullet through her head. She wouldn't be able to sound the alarm, to call for her father. They could chase after the younger one, stash the bodies and walk away without a scratch. All it would take was a simple twitch of the finger. It was nothing, it was easy.
She had done it a thousand times before.
And then there was a tight grip on her arm, a hard pull.
"Don't you dare," Shepard hissed.
And then they were running.
"Okay," Shepard panted out as they sprinted full throttle down the length of a hall and rounded the corner, "so not like you at all then, huh?"
"If she were," Miranda returned darkly, "she wouldn't have lasted nearly so long."
The remark left Shepard wondering just how many times Miranda's father had tried to have her killed.
They skidded to a halt as they each caught wind of urgent voices around the far corner up ahead. Apparently they no longer could claim the element of surprise. Soon everyone residing throughout the building would be on high alert. Shepard glanced around, looking for any sort of window or escape.
It was Miranda who grabbed her this time, tugging her towards a door a few paces back and dragging her inside. Not seconds after she closed it did they hear the heavy thuds of boots pounding along the carpet just outside as whoever belonged to the voices they heard dashed by.
Shepard let out a heavy breath, relieved that they would at least have a few moments to gather their wits before they were discovered once more. The room they had found themselves in was pitch black, so she reached out blindly for Miranda.
"Where are we?" she whispered quietly.
"I don't know," Miranda responded bitterly. "I'm all turned around. I've lost my bearings."
Shepard finally grazed her arm, and let her fingers trail down the length of it until their hands were clasped tightly. "What happened back there?" she questioned solemnly, tugging gently at Miranda.
"I don't know," Miranda repeated. She sounded almost breathless. "She must have been expertly trained. I never heard any sign of her approach."
Shepard's brow furrowed. "That's not what I meant. Miranda, you were going to shoot her."
There was no response save for Miranda's hand pulling free from her grasp, and Shepard narrowed her eyes, willing them to adjust more quickly to the dark so she could make out her companion's expression.
And then the lights turned on.
Both Miranda and Shepard squinted at the sudden change, faces scrunched up in irritation, and then it dawned on them just what this development meant. They both spun to look around the room, guns raised, searching for the person who was the cause.
The walls were a pale purple, trimmed with a wallpaper of a dozen different flowers Shepard couldn't name. The furniture was beautifully crafted and efficiently placed, nothing out of order or cluttered about. It was immaculate, and in the center of it all stood a child.
No more than seven or eight, the newest girl they had stumbled across gazed up at them with wide, curious eyes. It was certainly an inquisitive expression, even in the clear fear that was exposed, and it lead Shepard to immediately lower the weapon she had relieved from Gwen.
"Hi," she said softly, crouching slowly to place the pistol on the floor.
The girl took a cautious step back towards her bed, eyes darting nervously from Shepard to Miranda who still stood with her own weapon raised. This time around, Shepard wasn't having it. She stood and took a step in front of Miranda, forcing herself between gunpoint and the girl.
"She's just a kid."
Miranda's eyes narrowed. "And so was the last one," she reminded defiantly.
Though her voice was cold, Shepard remained unflinching. "And so were you."
Through gritted teeth Miranda scoffed, but her arm did relax, and the pistol was once again at her side. Shepard turned on the girl immediately, kneeling to make herself less threatening.
"Don't worry, we're not here to hurt you," she assured the uneasy child. "I'm Shepard," she added kindly. "What's your name?"
Miranda bit back a scowl. They could be discovered any minute. It wasn't the time for pleasantries.
"Lana," the girl responded softly, flashing Miranda a look laced with equal parts curiosity and apprehension.
Shepard offered her a reassuring smile as she noticed the girl's line of vision. "This is my friend." She hesitated for a moment, and then went for it. They needed to earn the girl's trust. "You know, she used to live with your father too." She could feel Miranda tense behind her as Lana stared up at the woman with wide eyes. "She's kind of like your big sister."
Instead of being calmed by the information, the girl pulled back. "Like Dawn and Gwen?" Lana whispered in a trembling voice that left Shepard wondering if Miranda being compared to the sisters this child already knew was a positive or negative affiliation.
"Well," she started, glancing back at Miranda for assistance. The glare she was met with assured Shepard she wouldn't be getting any. "In some ways," she finally admitted at length, hoping honesty would be enough to gain some trust. "Her name is Miranda."
Miraculously, the knowledge seemed to calm the girl. She visibly brightened at the name. "Miranda?" she repeated questioningly, a tinge of excitement laced in her words.
Shepard glanced back over her shoulder at Miranda to see if the woman was as confused by the development as she was. Apparently, by the expression she found there, it was so. "Yes," Shepard replied, refocusing on Lana.
The girl was beyond caring about Shepard now however, taking a step closer as she gazed up at Miranda with burning curiosity. "Bri said," she started excitedly, her face scrunching up in concentration, "she said about you."
Shepard couldn't help but chuckle at the phrasing despite their situation. "'Said about her?' Said what?"
Though Shepard had asked the question, Lana continued to direct her attention towards the other woman. "You, um, left."
The revelation made Shepard blink. "Now how would she go about learning something like that?" she mused aloud quietly.
She assumed that this 'Bri' was referring to the Brianna she had found a folder on earlier. If that was true, she was one of Lana's older sisters. Why would she know anything about Miranda? Surely their father would have hidden that from them. He had to know the dangers of planting the seed of possible escape in their minds, especially if they were anywhere near as unhappy as Miranda had been.
If he hadn't willingly informed them about Miranda, the only other option was that the girl had done some snooping. She likely went behind her father's back to dig around for some sort of information herself and stumbled upon Miranda's file.
Shepard smiled. "This Brianna sounds like someone I'd like to meet."
She felt Miranda shift behind her. "Shepard," she reminded her quietly, "we don't have much time. We have to figure out our next move."
Shepard nodded. Every moment they lingered was one spent foolishly. "Lana," she started calmly, "Miranda and I have something very important we need to do, but it's a secret. Nobody else can know about it, so we need you to be as quiet as you can for us, okay?"
Pushing herself up from where she crouched, Shepard glanced around the room, regaining her bearings a bit.
"She's young," Miranda whispered behind her, "they'll send someone to check on her soon."
Shepard had to agree with that, they really didn't have the odds in their favor if they hung around much longer. She smiled warmly down at Lana. "If it's okay, sweetheart, we're going to need you to shut off the lights again, alright?"
The girl had still been staring up at Miranda in what appeared to Shepard to be awe, and hardly registered the question, having a delayed reaction before obediently doing as Shepard asked. It left Shepard wondering just what Brianna had told her younger sister about the woman, and just how sheltered these girls must be considering how well the girl was handling the situation.
She had woken up in the late hours of the night to discover two strangers in her bedroom. She hadn't screamed or run away. She was taking everything they said at face value, never questioning if what they spouted were lies. Her behavior didn't add up to being the product of the lifestyle Miranda had previously described.
Clearly, Henry Lawson was doing something very different. Perhaps he had altered his approach since the days of Miranda's childhood, or perhaps it was due to something different entirely.
As Lana once again darkened the room, Shepard turned towards Miranda still deep in thought. Whatever was going on, she'd discover it in time. Lana was just one of many innocent children stuck in this situation, and Shepard wasn't going to leave any one of them behind. Even if she wasn't able to that night, she would find a way to liberate every one of them.
First though, she had to focus on getting Miranda out alive.
"We have to get out of here," she whispered quickly, "we'll have to inform Liara that she needs to find another way."
Her eyes still unadjusted to the dark, she couldn't make out Miranda's eyes widening at the statement. "What if she can't, Shepard?" she questioned sternly. "What if it doesn't come together quickly enough? If this involves the Reapers in any way, we have an obligation to see this through."
Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing. Surely Miranda wasn't suggesting they carry on with their original plan? Who knew how many people were combing the mansion for them. "But-"
"Don't you dare argue otherwise," Miranda pressed darkly.
Shepard gritted her teeth, barely biting back her frustration. Once again, Miranda was right. If there was some sort of Intel on the Reapers being exchanged here, and they gave up their one chance to discover it, Shepard would never forgive herself. They needed every edge against the Reaper threat they could possibly grasp, it wasn't as if the Alliance would be searching for any sort of aid. They were on their own and didn't have the luxury of passing things up, not if it could possibly save lives.
"Okay," she reluctantly allowed, "I'll figure something out, I just think it would be smart to get you out of here sooner rather than later."
"Shepard, I'm fine," Miranda insisted confidently.
"Are you though?" She had a hard time fighting off her exasperation.
"Keep your voice down," Miranda warned frigidly.
"Sorry, I just," she faltered for a moment, searching for the words. Miranda looked on impatiently, clearly eager to move on. "If," she reached up a hand, rubbing at the back of her neck, "if he comes back-"
"We'll deal with it," Miranda cut in sharply. She crossed her arms tightly, shifting back on her heels. "Though I would prefer we were on a different planet when he does."
Shepard let her hand fall, and released a heavy breath with the action. "I know," she responded delicately. "I guess we should get a move on then."
Miranda gave her a pointed look. "We won't last long pinned down in here once they realize where we are. It would be best if we split up now before that happens. I can draw their attention, giving you enough time to reach the basement."
Shepard held her hands up. "You're the one who knows where she's going and what to look for. I should be playing decoy."
That earned a frown. "You're in civilian attire. A single well aimed shot could take you down in this state."
"Well I'll just have to be extra careful." Shepard shook her head. "I mean, I don't even know where the basement is."
Miranda opened her mouth to respond, but her rebuttal was rendered useless as a tiny voice piped up from across the room.
"I do."
Shepard turned on the girl and softened, prepared to let her down gently, but Miranda was intrigued by the offer. "Now there's an idea."
"No way," Shepard shot back. "I'm not getting a kid mixed up in all this." Shepard thrust out a hand. "Look at her, she's like five."
"Six," Lana corrected defiantly, hands on her hips, nose in the air, looking an awful lot like an insulted Miranda.
"I think it's a good idea," Miranda replied calmly, shooting Shepard a pointed look that wordlessly communicated everything the old commander didn't want to hear.
She knew Miranda too well, what the woman was thinking. Lana could lead the way. Should they run in to trouble on their journey, it was likely the girl would be a powerful asset. If need be, a bargaining chip even, something to ensure Shepard's safety.
As much as she hated it sometimes, Miranda was always right.
"Fine," she spat back bitterly, pointedly proving just how much she resented possibly using a child as a shield. It wasn't like she would let any harm befall the girl, she would die before she let that happen, but the idea still left a sour taste in her mouth.
Not for the first time that night Shepard's thoughts were dwelling on Miranda's attitude concerning the girls. It was becoming utterly baffling to Shepard. She had obviously assumed Miranda's mental state would be altered after all the revelations; she might even let her emotions cloud her judgment in some situations, but not in this way.
Shepard had expected compassion, sympathy and empathy. After all, hadn't she risked her life to save Oriana from this very situation? Didn't she continue to do that to this very day? Why was she so cold now, so disconnected? The way Miranda was looking at these girls, it was as though she couldn't bring herself to feel anything for them but contempt.
More than anything, Shepard wanted to be able to sit with her and have a long conversation, to sort through events and move forward together. There just wasn't time.
"I'll keep them busy for long enough for you to safely arrive," Miranda said, pulling her focus. "When you're through, contact me and we'll go from there."
"Don't hurt Bri," Lana begged suddenly from beside Shepard. "Please."
"She won't," Shepard assured the child kindly.
Miranda shot her an exasperated look that Shepard returned. "She won't hurt any of them. We're here to help, Lana," Shepard reminded the girl again, though she directed her attention towards Miranda. "We're not here to hurt anybody."
The comment earned her yet another scowl, but Shepard couldn't bring herself to regret making it. Done with the conversation, Miranda moved towards the door with purpose, leaning against it gently to listen for any sign of movement on the other side.
Shepard placed a gentle hand on Lana's shoulder. "Wait here," she requested softly before moving to join Miranda.
In moments, Shepard was at her side, a tender grip on her arm. "Hey," she whispered urgently, "be careful, huh?"
Miranda smirked, even through her obvious irritation. "No promises."
"I'm serious," Shepard returned quickly, "we don't really know what we're dealing with here. They could be as good as you."
"Impossible." When Shepard appeared hardly amused by the statement, Miranda offered up a soft smile. "They're barely more than children, Shepard," she reminded the woman. "You know where to go, we'll meet up soon."
Shepard frowned, hating the doubt that coursed through her. Anything could happen once they split up, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. "Okay."
Miranda placed a hand on the doorknob, but hesitated before moving through. She glanced up at Shepard uncertainly. "I wouldn't have shot her, you know." Her brow furrowed. "I might have considered the option but," she hesitated, looking thoughtful, "I don't think I would have been able to follow through." And then suddenly, unbelievably, the question was Shepard's to answer. "Would I?"
Shepard hesitated. She couldn't begin to imagine being in the position Miranda was in. The things she was going through, the thoughts and feelings that must have been suffocating her mind, it was inconceivable. What could she say? The look in Miranda's eyes back in that hallway…Shepard had no doubt the woman wearing that expression was capable of pulling the trigger.
And yet here she was, questioning her own ability to do so. "No," she breathed quietly, keeping her voice low. She offered what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "No, I don't think you would." Shepard swallowed. "I know it's hard," she continued softly, hating how those words were so very inadequate, "but just try to focus on not getting shot for right now. We'll sort out the rest later."
Miranda nodded her assent, finally cracking open the door, and moving to peer out into the hall.
"Be safe," Shepard added almost inaudibly.
Apparently it had been loud enough to hear, as Miranda shot her a patronizing look before slipping into the darkened hall. Shepard closed the door softly behind Miranda, listening intently. The silence was painful, and then it came. Shouting, running, shooting, the uproar of discovery. It was all part of the plan, but that knowledge didn't stop Shepard's stomach from tightening with worry.
She took a deep breath before turning back towards the child and extending a gentle hand, which was quickly accepted.
"Okay, Lana, lead the way."
A/N: If there had been time in the games for more in depth romances, I would have liked to see paragon Shepard struggle a bit morally in the Miranda romance. Obviously Henry is a dick and Shepard despises everything he does/has done, especially concerning Miranda's upbringing. At the same time, no Henry being a dick = no Miranda at all. I wanted to see Shepard – especially paragon Shepard – wrestle with this a bit. Potentially interesting stuff right there.