Shepard brought her to Illium, along with Jack. She takes the opportunity whenever she can. Miranda suspects Shepard's flaunting her command, bringing her close to those that are threatening Oriana, only to force her to deal with Jack's surly company for hours at a time instead.

They recruited the justicar. Miranda watched Shepard's eyes light and then darken, condescending and lascivious as Samara knelt before her and gave her oath. By the Code, I will serve you, Shepard. Your choices are my choices. Your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my code.

What makes a woman forswear her family and belongings to wander known space, righting wrongs, doling out justice according to the unforgiving Code of the Justicar? Furthermore, what makes such a severe woman vow to suspend the Code in service of someone like Shepard? Miranda recalls the icy feeling she felt along her spine as Shepard's lips pulled into a barely restrained smile at the asari's oath.

In any case, things are proceeding. Not as optimally as Miranda would prefer, but there is progress. Her chat with Garrus seems to have had some effect. Better yet, the recruitment of the quarian appears to have soothed Shepard's spirits further.

If only they could get Liara T'Soni onboard, Shepard may become putty in her hands. Miranda maintains her distance. There are cameras everywhere, after all. EDI and Kelly Chambers keep her filled in on any developments. Tali'Zorah is a nuisance. She keeps disabling not only cameras but audio feeds as well. Miranda wonders if all aliens are so pigheaded; she feels as if she's been thrown a lot of unruly children to mother. Not that she can say she has much in the way of maternal instincts. She frowns, thinking of the most recent email she received from Dr. Banner Genway. It's fitting, she supposes. She didn't have a mother herself. How could she possibly be one?

Irrelevant. She compartmentalizes the information and turns her attention to her computer monitor and the steady stream of emails Shepard keeps composing before deleting them. Thirteen drafts in all. Miranda skims them.

Dear Liara—

Liara

Hey

Dr. T'soni

Dr. Liara T'soni

How are you? How are things? I miss you.

You haven't responded to any of my emails. Too busy tracking down the Shadow Broker to send a response? It would take two fucking minutes.

Fuck you. Fuck you, Liara.

I wish you'd consider coming back to the Normandy. It isn't the same without you.

I love you. I need you. Jesus Christ, I wonder if I'm even the same anymore. I look into the mirror and see a freak. Help me feel normal again, please.

Did you ever love me?

None of these other women can fuck like you do. Do you even give a shit?

Who the fuck is this friend of yours you need to get back? Were you fucking around on me when I was dead?

Each draft is discarded, rejected. Miranda feels a small pang of pity for the woman. She shouldn't have bought into all the hype about Commander Shepard. All she feels when she looks at her is disappointment. She wonders if the mythological God felt much the same way when man ultimately rebelled, teeth sinking into an apple, foolishly thinking they could touch His mind, be His equal, live without guidance.

Shepard needs a great deal of guidance. Miranda decides to take advantage of Shepard's insecurities and forwards her an email about the reconstructive surgery, along with the necessary data. The next email she sends includes information about the location of the Shadow Broker. Truthfully, she doesn't like to see Shepard's face falling apart at the seams. It makes Miranda's work look sloppy. She didn't invest two years of her life for Shepard to look or act sloppy.

Miranda watches Shepard sit at her desk in the cabin, slumped in her chair, sitting up to look at the email she has received. A video feed disappears from the corner of her monitor. Miranda silently curses the blighted quarian.

When Shepard died, so did some piece of Tali. It was a difficult thing. Who could she share that pain with? The Normandy crew despaired. They all saw that Collector ship blow up the Normandy like it was nothing. They didn't see Shepard. They only knew that she didn't get into the emergency pod with Joker. Some part of Tali desperately wanted to believe that she'd made it.

Some part of her had always foolishly loved Shepard. Shepard who was cutting and mean but was always kind to her. The day she finally accepted that she'd gone, she secluded herself from the rest of the Neema (as best as she could on such a tight ship) and cried so much her eyes stung for hours. She cried until she no longer could. She wondered how Liara could bear it when she was falling apart.

Then on Freedom's Progress, there Shepard was again. And then again on Haestrom, saving the day. She looked different. She still does. But it's her. It's really her. It has to be. Shepard remembers things Tali told her, she remembers about the data. If Tali can't trust memories, what can she trust?

Garrus sidles up next to her on the bar, sliding a shot glass to her. She smiles, taking it between her digits. It's nice to have him around again. He has always been an intense man, somehow passionate and cool in one. He's no one Tali would ever want to get on the wrong side of. He and Shepard were always close but these days he sticks closer to her than ever. Tali wonders if he has a crush too. "Another one?" she asks. "How much is Cerberus paying you?"

"Not one credit," he says. The Dark Star Lounge music pulses and she scoots closer to hear him better. "You know I'm not here for them. This is all courtesy of our fearless hero." They both look to Shepard who's at the bar, ignoring the turian and flirting with an asari. Tali wonders if she could have had a shot with her if she'd been born an asari, or anything that wasn't a quarian. Oy. Shepard makes her crazy in the head. "Bottoms up," he clinks their shot glasses together and make a face. "Oh, sorry. I guess it isn't that easy for you," he reaches past her and takes a straw, dunking it in her shot glass.

"I didn't realize you were such a gentleman," she says. He barks out laughter before clearing his throat and the two quickly down their shots. Shepard looks to be in the middle of telling some story to the asari, who laughs and touches her arm. Shepard's skin is coming open. It's strange to see her like that, with those strange red eyes. She looks part machine and it unsettles her. Tali thinks her own distrust of the geth is what fuels the disquieting feelings. She hasn't seen Shepard behave out of character. "You know, you're scarier than you used to be."

"Me? Scary? I'm hurt."

"I never saw you as a bad boy before. Are you trying to take after Shepard?"

"Shepard's a boy now? Oh. I thought I was bad at human biology but usually I can tell their sexes apart. I guess they all do look alike," he says. She sees a whisper of his teeth and Tali smacks his arm. He's a bigger smart ass than he was before, too. "Still have a case of hero worship?"

Tali sputters. "I—I don't know what you mean." She bites her lip. Garrus passes the shot glass back and forth between his fingers. Her face floods with heat. Tali silently congratulates him on scoring a point in a game he doesn't even know is being played. "I dismantled a few more cameras on the Normandy. I would have done it anyway, but knowing that I have Shepard's blessing makes it all the more satisfying." She sits up straighter, trying to get the attention of the bartender who pretends she isn't there. "I don't trust any of those people." There's a pause. "Not any of Cerberus anyway. Especially Miranda."

Garrus makes a noise and slams his shot glass down in front of the human bartender. "The lady would like a drink. You'll find our credits spend as well as anyone else's." The human grouses but pours them new drinks, huffing and sighing the entire time.

She takes a sip of the new drink and is glad when it doesn't kill her. After Shepard's experience with the batarian on Omega, Tali has been extra cautious. It turns out that having been a crewmember on the Normandy when they stopped Sovereign carries little weight. And even if they do know her, Tali isn't one to brag about her exploits. All quarians look alike to humans anyway. "You're so forceful."

"Only when it's necessary."

"Aha. I can't remember the last time I saw you exercise restraint," Tali says. Garrus grins. "I'm so happy she's back, Garrus." Garrus trails his finger along the rim of his glass. "I wish it wasn't with Cerberus but…" She doesn't know what it is that she's saying, nor did she mean to begin waxing romantic about Shepard. If she were, she doesn't know that Garrus would be the one to talk to about it. Maybe calibrations or polishing weapons would be better topics of conversation.

"Tali… about those video feeds…" Garrus starts hesitantly.

Shepard is there suddenly, throwing her arms around the two, pulling them tight. "How are my favorite squaddies?" she asks. "Getting good and liquored up? We don't get much shore leave; let's enjoy it while we can." Tali tries not to become flustered at the contact, already forgetting whatever Garrus was trying to talk to her about. "Has Garrus been behaving himself?"

Tali blinks. "What?" She doesn't have an opportunity to explore the conversation further, Shepard's dragging her away from the stool and the bar, out to the dance floor. Tali stands awkwardly, unsure of the meaning behind the action before Shepard starts dancing. Tali looks around.

"Hey, come on, I'm not that bad of a dance partner, am I?"

Tali smiles. Surprisingly, inconceivably, even, Shepard looks to have improved. Tali listens to the music and starts to sway to it. While the Flotilla loves music and engages in dancing often, she hasn't had the spirit to join them since Shepard died. Now that she's back, it's different. There's a reason to dance again. Tali looks over at Garrus and beckons him to come closer but he shakes his head. When she glances back, Shepard stands even closer, has taken a careful hold of her hips. Tali is sure she short circuits, all thought momentarily shutting down. "What's the matter, Shepard? Did the asari bartender turn you down?" Shepard laughs. "I'm not the easy prey you think I am, you know."

"Aren't you?" Shepard smiles and in the flashing lights, she almost looks normal again, like that old Shepard who only had a scar on her upper lip, cutting into her eyebrow, like the old Shepard who could send her heart into a tailspin. "I'm really glad you're back, Tali." Shepard pulls her close. "I need someone like you at my side." She whispers the words, as much as anyone can whisper them at a nightclub with music blaring.

"Oh," she says.

Then Garrus is there, asking to cut in, surprising the both of them. Tali thinks she imagines the glare on Shepard's face. Shepard stalks away from the dance floor and Garrus thrusts a fist in the air, moving his legs for all of two seconds before walking off too. Tali sighs. Well. So much for that.

Shepard doesn't like the cabin. She doesn't like the quiet. The electronic equipment thrums softly with the beat of a hum, ringing in her ears. She convinces herself that playing any music might hide any telltale signs of Miranda and Cerberus' spying, of the cameras. It's nice to get away. She likes the rare moments of solitude. She stares at Liara's picture and lets it wreck her.

It was beautiful, in a morbid way, being so close to the stars, seeing fire fill up the skies, even as her heart broke. She would never see Liara again. She thought that. She thought of her as her heart came to a stop. How did Liara do it? How did she come to completely possess her in such a short period of time?

Shepard sits at the terminal. No new messages. None from her. She takes a breath and massages her forehead. She has to see Anderson. She can't put it off forever. No doubt he's heard the rumors. No doubt Kaidan ran off to snitch, after seeing her on Horizon. How can she tell him she's fine, that she came back all right, when she's working for Cerberus? When she looks like some goddamned Frankenstein?

Thank God for Tali. Thank God for Garrus. They're loyal. They're here. They make her feel safe. Anger at Liara festers inside of her. No word. No nothing. She runs her fingers through her hair and takes a breath. She releases it. She makes it into a mantra and attempts to send Liara another message. Maybe she should get drunk first. Won't matter to her worth a damn what she sends then.

She takes another long breath, holding it until it becomes painful and she sees spots. Exhales slowly. It's a reminder that she's alive.

Dear Liara,

I know you're busy. Guess we have that in common. You know, dying's the only real break I've had from this 'saving the world' bullshit. The world doesn't mean a damned thing to me without you in it. When we got rid of Saren I thought we'd have time. We didn't get it. Not what we deserved.

I know how it seems. I know how I look. It's going to be fixed. All of this is temporary. You and me—we're endgame. That's what I thought. Will you reconsider joining me on this mission? I could sure use you on my side. You can't tell me finding whoever this friend of yours is trumps stopping the Collectors. We helped each other out before. We can again.

Is there someone else? She deletes the line.

Can you please send me some kind of response? You're fucking killing me, T'Soni.

x. Jane

She sends the email and regrets it immediately. How the fuck does an asari barely out of her teenage years reduce her to a pining schoolgirl? She hates showing her hand without so much as a bluff at the ready. She doesn't mention the Shadow Broker intel. Not yet. She wants to see how Liara responds to her earnest appeal. She needs to hold on to the gambit for an instance of desperation.

The krogan doesn't have a smell. He's shiny. He hasn't earned anything. He was bred in a goddamn tank. His knowledge was downloaded. Shepard despises him. Far as she's concerned, he and Miranda are cut from the same cloth: genetically engineered by maniacs with gifts they don't deserve.

Miranda's a robot. Always emotionless, always controlling, always a raging bitch. Grunt is a beast, wild, unpredictable and violent. Both created in labs. Shepard doesn't trust something that isn't born; Shepard doesn't trust science trumping God.

Something about it is immoral. Something about them makes her skin crawl. She touches her arm experimentally, scratching it gingerly over the hoodie she wears. Kasumi arches an eyebrow delicately. Kasumi is fun and always up for a heist. Shepard still doesn't trust her, though. She can't. No one in their right mind would willingly work for Cerberus, no matter how many credits are at stake.

"I'm kind of sorry this isn't strip poker," Kasumi says, throwing a few chips down. "I'd have you down to your undies, Shep."

Shepard's glad it isn't strip poker. Not that she wouldn't mind having a look at Kasumi (if she ever got a decent hand) but she isn't ready to bare it all. Not the way she would have before anyway, with some impish glow in her eye. Now the glow is all too real. She can see it reflected on surfaces, on her hands when she wakes in the night. "Keep dreaming, Kasumi."

"In case you both have forgotten, strip poker could kill me," Tali says, adjusting herself on the chair she sits on. Shepard smiles over at her.

"Cry me a river, kid," Zaeed rearranges his cards. He came into the game boasting about his skills and has gotten the shittiest deals all night. Shepard suspects Kasumi's deck has an edge they haven't picked up on. She and Tali are killing it. "Don't know how the hell you're doing it. Can't even read the cards off your helmet. Guess you do have one hell of a poker face after all."

"That's offensive," Tali says but Shepard isn't sure that she means it. She's been humming for the majority of the evening.

Shepard likes Zaeed. There's something about grizzled old men who are open about their sociopathic tendencies that tends to reassure her. That and the fact that he's killed over fifty Cerberus agents put him securely into the camp of people she can trust on the ship. "Do quarians wear panties to get into a twist, Tali?"

"Shepard!" Tali shows her cards and the table collectively groans. Tali collects the mountain of chips, pulling them towards her. Of all the group playing, Tali is the least likely to collect actual credits. Out of all the ones playing, she's the one Shepard is most likely to pay up to.

"You really do like to tease her," Kasumi observes, getting Tali to lean across the table to whisper something.

Zaeed takes a swig of the unlabeled brand of alcohol he's drinking. It has a yellow, greenish hue to it like bile. Whatever it is, it leaves him immensely satisfied, his eyes looking sharper than ever. Even the one that's implanted settles on her too keenly. Shepard stands, rising from the mess hall table to search through the kitchen cabinets.

She finds a mug and sets it aside, looking for some instant coffee. To her consternation, Miranda is soon there. Like her, she pulls out a mug. Unlike her, she immediately finds the tea bag that she's looking for and starts to boil water in a kettle. Shepard abandons her search, pulling herself up to the counter to take a seat. Shepard watches her unwaveringly. Miranda crosses her arms gently, looking at her, past her. "Playing card games. I suppose that's a step up from beating your squad to a pulp." Her voice is remarkably light. Shepard finds it all the more grating.

Tali glances back at them and Shepard frowns. It isn't that she regrets what she did because she doesn't. She wanted to find out what Jacob was made of and she did: nothing. He's Cerberus. Doesn't matter anyway. If Tali asked, Shepard would tell her. Not that she thinks Tali would care about her beating up Cerberus agents. Didn't she offer to help her blow up the ship? Tali's solidly on her side. But she might misunderstand the situation. Miranda strikes her as the sort to enjoy creating misunderstandings. "Didn't quite get to the 'pulp' stage. You can thank Garrus for that one."

Miranda's finger taps lightly against her own arm but her face reveals nothing. She turns to pour boiling water into her mug. "Cerberus has humanity's best interests and yours in mind. Jacob especially. You should consider apologizing to him," she suggests.

"No." Shepard waits for Miranda to tense but she doesn't, as if she's unsurprised by her dissent. "I stopped at him. I didn't continue on to you. Makes us even, in my book." She swings her legs gently. Miranda drops a tea bag into the mug. She stares at her. Shepard looks back. Miranda's supposed to be perfect. She doesn't know what her insides look like, what kind of rot lurks beneath the surface of a Cerberus agent, but the outside is pristine. Gleaming hair, full lips, and a body that's unreal. Isn't real, really. Staring into her eyes is like stepping into frigid winter. "How's your sister?" she asks lightly. "Escaped Daddy's clutches yet?"

Miranda's eyes thaw. They don't flare. It's enough to make Shepard sit up straighter. She waits for a reprimand. Miranda likes to show off. Shepard braces for it. Miranda picks up her mug of tea. Shepard wonders if she's going to throw the boiling water at her. "That topic is off limits." She steps closer, hands settling at Shepard's sides. She looks at the table of players and her voice is soft. "If you bring her up in that way again, your little friends won't be able to stop me." Shepard smiles. Finally. A reaction. Miranda picks up her tea. "Enjoy the game," she tells the group, retreating to her office.

Shepard wishes she'd asked her where the instant coffee was.

"Did it suddenly get cold in here?" Kasumi asks.

'Your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my code.' That's what you said. Now open your mouth and kiss me back.

The meld was incredible. Visceral. Every piece of her soared, every inch of her burning brighter than the Normandy on that fateful day. Samara is a matriarch. Shepard was Liara's first lover. Samara's lovers have been countless. The experience shows. Even if a part of Shepard is left shaking and cold.

Shepard throws up into the toilet again, hacking, sweating. She uses the sink for leverage and pulls herself up to her feet, red eyes burning in the mirror. She splashes water on her face several times over, letting the water become scalding.

She swishes the scorching water in her mouth and spits out several more times, wanting to wipe and purify the acidity from her tongue, mingling there with the taste of Samara. There was a part of Samara that was happy to let go. That was glad to be compelled to, to be given an excuse. She's sure of it. Their morals are the same. Nothing wrong happened.

Shepard heaves for breath and slumps to the floor, head in her hands. Why the fuck hasn't Liara gotten back to her? Doesn't she understand that she's driving her crazy with her absence? With her indifference? She never asked to come back. Why is it always up to her? Nobody realizes the toll it takes. Do they care?

She clutches at the wall and stands. Her eyes are shadowed. She stares into the mirror again and squares her shoulders, wipes the anguish away. She returns to the observation deck. Samara is sitting on the floor, meditating. Shepard finds spots on her exposed skin where she has bruised from grips, kisses and bites. The woman's body is hard and lean, incredibly strong, malleable and flexible.

Shepard collapses beside her, remembering how Samara cried out. Four hundred some years without a lover would have anyone aching for release. Shepard sniffs and crosses her legs, trying to steady her breath. She is empty now that the heightened pleasure that consumed her is gone. Samara leads her through a couple of breathing exercises.

They help. Shepard closes her eyes and feels Samara's eyes on her. The burning is different now than before. It's in her eyes, it's in the skin cracking alongside her ribs, it's in the pit of her stomach and the palms of her hands where her nails bury. Shepard waits for the spark that will burn uncontrollably, the one that will swallow her.

"You are restless," Samara tells her evenly. Shepard looks at her. Samara looks the same as she usually does. Shepard thinks idly that worse things happen. She bites her tongue. "Be at peace, Shepard. I am. However, as soon as this mission is completed and I am released from my oath, you must know that I will kill you. The Code does not allow an injustice to go unpunished. It is a matter of honor. And it will be… personal for me. I pity you."

Shepard closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath and tries to let the calm fill her but it doesn't come.