The shooting is all over the news for a few days, though the details are kept vague. No names are released. A "human female" has gone missing. There's a physical description but no name. A "suspect" is wanted for questioning. No description. The media is being strangely circumspect. Henry Lawson must be leaning on every resource he has to keep Oriana's name out of the news. Asari officials, adept at covering their blue asses, want nothing more than to avoid a galactic scandal. Still, Hope knows they will be looking tirelessly for Oriana, and for 'Shepard,' even if both their names are being withheld from the public.

Grace is unused to calling attention to herself. She paces the small safe house like a caged rat. Oriana watches her resentfully from the couch. Hope leans against the wall and weighs her options. Gardner has been silent. She fears the worst. The last message he sent indicated they were about to go through the Omega-4 relay, and that was days ago. Is he dead? Are they all dead? In a way, that might be convenient.

A week has passed since the campus incident. The girl is clever so they take turns watching her. Hope hasn't spoken to Grace. There's hardly been a moment of privacy between them. Grace has become increasingly sullen. She didn't want to keep the girl. She pities her. We're keeping her safe from Henry Lawson. Trust me when I say he's as vicious as they get.

Oriana swears softly. Grace stops pacing. The girl's huddled over the coffee table with a small toolkit. Grace initially commented that it looked like a torture kit. Seeing the girl pale had put a smile on Hope's face. A puff of smoke trails from the fried hologram device. "Are you trying to burn the place down?" Hope asks.

Oriana scowls without looking up. "Trying."

Grace smiles faintly. "I like her," she tells Hope. Of course she does. Grace doesn't wait for a response. She sits next to Oriana, arms draped over her legs, watching her work. Oriana stiffens noticeably but pretends she hasn't noticed her. A fan swirls lazily overhead. Oriana purses her lips thoughtfully as the small pen-knife type tool presses against a hub of what looks like wet metal. "Are you sure about that?" Grace asks.

Oriana's scowl deepens but she retracts the tool. "I don't even know why I'm doing this," she mutters. Hope watches them, heads close, looking at the object with inscrutable thought. Oriana has gone from terrified to moody. Hope thought it best to reveal Miranda's dossier (carefully redacted) to discredit Henry Lawson and prove him a liar. The matter was simple enough. Oriana doesn't trust them fully. She's smart not to, but now she's conflicted about her older sister.

I'm surrounded by clones, Hope thinks irritably. Worse yet, they're pigheaded and have no inkling about what they really are. Who they are...? Hope sits at Oriana's left. "Fix it," Hope tells her sharply.

Grace leans forward to look at her. "Lay off." Hope glares. Grace is quick to switch sides. Oriana doesn't face either woman, looking like a miserable child trapped between feuding parents. "Look," she says calmly, "you fix this and you and ... Lilah," she says through gritted teeth, "can use it to get off Thessia. The news reports don't say anything about her. I don't think they're looking for her, but they know you're missing. Your father is looking." Hope keeps herself from nodding as Grace goes through their talking points. "I'll take a separate route and rendezvous with you both later."

Oriana wrings her hands. She's identical to Miranda except that she actually uses expressions. Being around her is irritating. "Will my father come after you?" Oriana asks. Grace shrugs. Hope half expects her to put sunglasses on. Oriana takes a breath. "I'm so confused. I thought I knew what my life was. I thought it was one thing and then six months ago I found it was something else. That everything I knew was a lie. And now I'm being told that the truth was just another lie." She sighs tiredly. "All I wanted was to go to school and get a boyfriend." Hope rolls her eyes. Grace shoots daggers at her. Oriana looks at Grace. "Why did you have a disguise? If you're Commander Shepard—and you're helping my sister... why did you have a disguise?"

Hope has ten excuses on the tip of her tongue but Grace is flummoxed. Conflict makes her look young. Her lips part but no words come out. There is nothing she can say that isn't a lie. And still—"I didn't want to be recognized," Grace says. The truth hadn't occurred to Hope. She's left feeling stupid. There's something to be admired about honesty—even if there's no cleverness in it.

Oriana says nothing but it's clear the answer doesn't satisfy. Grace looks at Oriana and then briefly at the ceiling. Hope wonders if she's praying. What do clones pray to? False idols? The Reapers? Science? Miranda and Henry Lawson? "I could tell you I'm dodging an evil twin but you're brighter than that." Hope laughs weakly. Oriana looks at Grace skeptically. "I don't know what the truth is. I know what it's like to be lied to. I don't like it any more than you do." Hope's face warms. She tries to catch Grace's eyes, tries to get her to stop talking, but she's fixated on Oriana. "You've been lied to enough. Don't ask me again, all right?"

"Fine," Oriana grumbles. She picks up the tool again, turning her attention to the hologram device. "Are you two dating?" Oriana asks. "You don't have to keep hiding it. It's low on my list of priorities after kidnapping."

"We didn't kidnap you. We rescued you," Hope says with a smirk. "So be a good girl, shut your mouth and don't ask questions." Oriana had to prattle on with her sob story, stirring doubt in Grace. Hope doesn't look at her partner. Odd how a truth withheld feels so much like a lie. It's thick as stone, keeping a wall between them. The weight is new, the height of the lie paramount—it will fall like a tower and end everything if she isn't mindful.

To: ML [ ML ]

From: Samantha Traynor [ straynor ]

Miranda,

I see I've thawed you enough for us to be on a first name basis. Another battle won! Glad to know my instincts were good. It's five in the bloody morning and I've got to run to PT but I must admit, you've got me a bit worried. Congratulations, I thought we would limit ourselves to trolling one another. Is everything all right? I'll cross my fingers and hope I hear back. I've been enjoying our banter.

—Samantha

You cannot play chess if you are kindhearted.

Miranda rests an elbow on the desk, peering at the laptop monitor. The email is relatively mundane, especially compared to the recent battle against the Collectors and the Cerberus data she continues to sift through. Samantha Traynor won't budge on revealing any details about Horizon. At this point it no longer matters. Gardner has been caught. The clone has been sighted on Thessia, possibly with Oriana. There's no need to continue the line of communication. And yet, it is so unlike what she is accustomed to.

She's never had anyone she could just talk to. Niket would be the closest thing and there's been no word from him. Jacob is gone. Death has never affected her. She's heard how others whisper about her, how unfeeling she is. She's never had anything to dispute their claims with until now. She can't get Jacob's sightless eyes out of her mind.

Now she has the curious Samantha Traynor to contend with. To correspond with her would push matters past the point of work. The cursor hovers over the 'reply' button. There remains work to do. Shepard promised they'd go to Thessia, but they're still docked in Illium. Miranda tells herself the vast number of repairs the Normandy requires is the reason they haven't gone yet.

{ Miranda. The Illusive Man would like to talk to you in the comm room. }

EDI. Miranda isn't used to having the AI pass along messages. The fact that she is unshackled worries her. Shepard is indifferent. EDI's more than enough to replace the crew, she said. Is Shepard as unaffected as she appears? She doesn't talk about Liara. Tali and Garrus were the only ones she placed some semblance of trust in and they're gone. They were on the ship to bolster Shepard's confidence in the mission, in the crew. Shepard seems more dedicated than ever. Maybe the aliens are no longer necessary. But Garrus is a good soldier. Miranda tried to talk to him as he departed but he wanted no part of it. How will it affect matters later?

She looks at the laptop and stands without responding. "Thank you, EDI." She squares her shoulders and makes her way to the comm room. Wires dangle like intestines, the ceiling convexed like a bloated gut. There's a lot of work to do. Fortunately the FTL and stealth drive still work. The ship isn't pretty but provided no Collectors attack, they should be all right until the repairs are made.

The Illusive Man hasn't asked to speak to her in some time. The last few occasions on which he deigned to speak to her he chastised her and dismissed her concerns. Miranda isn't sure whether he was right to. The thought sends guilt burrowing into her. The peculiar sensation has been growing. First there's Shepard. She didn't trust her and yet she got them through—as best as she could. Was she right to doubt her?

But it's more than Shepard. She couldn't maintain the barrier at the Collector base and Grunt died because of it. Should she have been able to maintain the barrier? Yes. Shepard trusted her. Her father got her the best genetic tailoring money can buy. Her biotics are formidable. So why couldn't she hold it together long enough...? She was made to be perfect and yet she failed. She's the only one who can take responsibility for the mistake. When they made it past that door she sank to one knee, barely able to breathe. She scanned the room for enemies...did she imagine Samara smiling...?

If only that were the last of the screwups. The crew is dead. She shot down the suggestion for an escort. Was that her failure or Shepard's? The decision was sound, logical. It was the right decision, but the cost... Most worrisome is the matter of Oriana. She joined Cerberus so they could keep her safe. She wasn't kept safe. The Illusive Man failed her. Cerberus failed her. And she failed Oriana. The one thing she swore never to do. Now Oriana's in danger. The clone has possibly taken her, but for what purpose? It should be easier to track the clone than her father. Her face will ensure that. Miranda isn't sure whether it's a small mercy or not.

By the time she gets to the communications room she's cold with doubt. Her confidence is dwindling dangerously. She was once the Illusive Man's most trusted operative, above 'Rasa' and Kai Leng. Now he has Shepard. Miranda brought Shepard back. Has she outlived her usefulness to him? The comm room is gutted, but most of the debris has been cleared. She stands straight as the room dims to black.

An instant later he's there. She sees his eyes first, spheres of light, cold and clinical, emotionless. Is this what people see when they look at her? She holds her tongue and waits for him to speak. Anything spoken here could give away a hand she didn't know she had.

"Congratulations, Miranda. When I charged you with heading the Lazarus Project I only hoped we could bring Shepard back. We face dark times and powerful enemies. We needed the best and thanks to you, we got the best. Our recent victory would not be possible if not for your work."

She isn't sure that's true. His steps clack on the floor as he approaches. It seems strange that she has placed her life and Oriana's in his hands and yet she knows nothing about him. How unlike her. How irresponsible. He's obsessed with human dominance to the exclusion of everything else. "You found the funding to make it possible, sir." He smiles. "I'm sure you haven't summoned me here for congratulations."

"To the point as always." He clasps his hands and looks down at her. "If I know you, you're blaming yourself for the mistakes and the losses of the suicide mission. You and Shepard had a troubled beginning. For the good of the mission you overcame that. By now you must know that we must all make sacrifices to stop the Reapers." Miranda's throat tightens. She forces herself to not move a muscle. "Shepard is... surprisingly dedicated to you. Almost as dedicated as she is to Cerberus. She's told you of Dr. Kenson?"

"Yes, sir." She knows what he wants. She waits for him to say it.

"I need you to tell Shepard that Oriana can wait."

Cold anger washes over Miranda, despite how she expected the words. She didn't bother him with the Oriana intel because she knew it would always fall to the back burner. Shepard is back. She isn't irreplaceable anymore. Cerberus matters, humanity matters, Oriana doesn't. She doesn't. Seconds pass before she trusts herself to speak. "With all due respect, sir, I disagree." His eyes flick away from her and she doesn't know if he's dismissing her or finding something worthier to consider. "We only have a limited window to get her back and this delay in Illium has made that window increasingly small." She's surprised that her words nearly shake. "I joined Cerberus so you could keep her safe. You haven't." His eyes reveal nothing. "We got through the suicide mission...!" He asked her to be patient. She's been patient.

"And still we have the Reapers to contend with," he tells her calmly. Miranda locks her jaw, trying to contain another outburst. "Don't put your personal feelings ahead of what's good for the galaxy. You have been walking a fine line. Despite that you're still one of my most trusted agents. That is, assuming you can still do your job."

"And if I don't, sir?"

His smile is cold. He turns his back to her. "Don't disappoint me, Miranda. Your father's reach is nothing compared to mine."

He walks away into the darkness, his figure eventually fizzling out. Miranda stands in the abandoned communications room, not able to immediately discern why the room is flooded blue, why every inch of her body tingles.

It's night. The lights of Thessia brighten and fade like a pulse in the distance. Grace looks away from the window. A figure stands silhouetted at the bedroom door, the light behind her cutting out a shadow. Hope casts a backwards glance before entering, closing the door behind her.

Hope joins her at the window seat. It's the first they've been alone since Oriana joined them. Oriana's concerns have been allayed as best as they can be. The evidence has been presented. She must know now that Henry Lawson only wanted her for his own nefarious means. For a legacy. He only pretended to be benevolent.

Now they go on the run again. Grace and Hope must separate. If she hadn't spitefully brought them to Thessia it might have been avoided. If Hope, Rasa, Lilah, Sasha, whoever didn't constantly lie and kill first, question later, they might have avoided it. Still, 'Hope' has not provided real answers for interfering in the matter with the girl. There's no real plan other than to get her off Thessia and return her to Illium. Miranda Lawson, dreaded terrorist, is allegedly intent on keeping her safe. Grace isn't sure why Hope told Oriana that either; she can't decipher Hope's angle. To take her for safekeeping is... unlike her. "She got it working," Hope announces simply, referring to the holo-mask.

"I thought she might." Grace adjusts on the seat, drawing her legs to her. Hope slides closer. "I'm not sure about this plan." Hope watches her steadily. It's different than before when she simply cut her off midsentence. The shift grows but Grace isn't sure that she or Hope know how to feel about it. "It's risky. If Henry Lawson's men or Commander Shepard and Miranda catch up with you then..."

"Then what...?" she leans forward, her voice low and enticing.

Inches separate them. "Then ..." She bows her head and thinks. Hope is a master at muddling her thoughts. "I don't understand why you're doing this. Miranda Lawson is a terrorist. Kai Leng works for Cerberus. If they're after that girl and they find you..."

Hope's eyes narrow on her. "Does it matter if they find me?" Grace wonders if she has the right to find the question offensive. Things would be easier if she didn't care. Nothing should stop her from leaving Hope behind. "We told the girl we're trying to keep her safe from her father. You've told her that."

"It's what we decided on."

"It's the truth."

"Is it?"

Hope leans back into the wall, her eyes clouded. She crosses her arm gingerly. "Miranda Lawson is a bitch. She's always had an attitude. She thinks she's better than everyone. Never much liked her."

"I hadn't noticed."

She laughs mirthlessly. "I've never known what it is to be cared for." Her face reveals nothing save for a twitch of her jaw. The rise and fall of her chest stops. Grace has only glimpsed her like this when she's been blind with rage and grief. She couldn't see then. She studies her now when she can see. Hope won't look at her. "That girl is the only thing Miranda Lawson cares about. It seems a bit petty to feed her to the wolves. That's all." She looks at Grace and smirks. "Moving enough for you?"

"Is it true?" She isn't surprised when Hope doesn't respond. Grace moves over the window seat, crawling over her. Hope flicks her eyes to her. "I care about you," she tells her. The words strike her as true though she has doubted it in the past months. Hope averts her gaze, face pensive. Grace takes her hand. "I hate how things have been between us."

Hope parts her lips but whatever she's ready to say is cut off by Oriana, calling from the living room, insistent on going. Hope stills but Grace detects the slight pressure of her hand. "I've been wanting to speak to you." There's a hesitation there that Grace has never seen before. "I've needed time alone with you to discuss... everything." She tsks. "Oriana threw a wrench in the plans," she mutters.

Grace lifts Hope's chin with the tip of her finger. "Everything...?"

"Everything." She's skittish. "I can't now. After the girl is gone." She's sincere.

She won't press her. Hope is quick to clam up when prodded. A spiteful response. Maybe a defensive one. "I'll meet you at the spaceport. Promise me you'll be careful."

Hope smiles ruefully. Grace palms her face and kisses her softly. In the dark room, with their separation impending, Hope returns it in kind.

Shepard rests her elbows on the kitchen island, hands buried in her hair. Gardner won't stand in the space ever again. No one will take his shitty meals into battle, sitting like bricks in their stomach. The ship is haunted. It's quiet. There are shadows everywhere. There are whispers. Once the Normandy gets up and running again it should stop.

The med-bay has been cleared out. Chakwas had framed pictures of Shepard and Joker on her desk. Shepard never noticed. The Serrice Ice Brandy Shepard forgot to give her was ingested after the suicide mission but Shepard can't swallow the choking guilt. The alcohol wasn't enough to make her forget. All she wanted was a moment of peace from the throbbing ache. She should be happy. She won. Garrus is gone. Garrus who acts like Tali's death hasn't affected her.

{ Are you all right, Commander? }

Shepard rubs her eyes. The damned AI has been a chatty thing since she was unshackled. "Just peachy, EDI."

{ Peachy? }

"Just shut up." There is little force in her voice, the words barely audible. She recognizes the approach of deliberate footsteps. Miranda arrives soon after. She smiles thinly at Shepard before turning her back to her, opening one of the cupboards and taking out a porcelain tea cup and saucer. Shepard averts her eyes. Miranda once bragged about her appearance being designed to give her an edge. She understands now how it might work. It's been months and still no word from Liara. The thought triggers a memory of Morinth's tongue, hot along her skin. Shepard expected to be more disappointed in herself but complacency has taken its stead. "We're out of Earl Grey," she tells Miranda.

"I didn't know you drank it."

"You do." Shepard didn't miss how Miranda took care to stash it behind the 'less desirable' teas. It struck her as funny, how the perfect human stooped to something so... childish. They're out now and Shepard absurdly wishes they weren't. Gardner was killed and then they hit the Collectors. No time to restock. Shepard thinks of his body, hard and frozen beneath pre-packaged meats. Miranda put him on ice before he was thrown out the air lock. Shepard smiles wryly but doesn't share the thought. "What's on your mind?"

"What makes you think something is?"

"You're looking for tea." The woman has very few tells. Shepard can't think of any other outside of fetching tea when she's argued with her or Jack. When Oriana was on her mind. "Want to tell me what it is? I'll go twenty-questions on you if I have to. Is it bigger than a Collector?"

Miranda laughs softly. She pulls out a box of black tea and turns. "As a matter of fact." Her face sobers. Shepard's on the alert. She looks at the ceiling and the glow of the video feed. EDI. With a nod she indicates that Shepard should follow her to her office. Shepard grabs a water bottle and goes after her, uncapping it as she walks. They move past the desk and office chair to the couch along the wall. "I've thought about your matter with Dr. Kenson. I think it would be best if you dealt with it first."

Shepard is apprehensive. They've stalled too long on Illium. Anytime the Normandy looks as if it's ready to take off, another glaring problem presents itself. Oriana matters more to Miranda than anything else. She wouldn't ask Shepard to hold off unless she was pushed. "Let me guess? Illusive Man's orders?"

"Yes," Miranda says simply. She looks to the side as if searching for tea but realizes she didn't bring any. She speaks softly. "I don't always agree with his decisions but Cerberus matters. Our mission matters. I've upheld my end of the bargain. Oriana was meant to be kept safe." She takes a breath. "The Illusive Man sees value in... finding this Dr. Kenson. I've done some research on her. She's worked on ambitious projects. By all accounts, she's brilliant. If she could help in the war against the Reapers, I think it's important you do it."

Does Miranda believe any of what she's saying? She's professional. So professional. Would she bury everything that matters to her for the greater good? Shepard knows everything must be sacrificed in war to win. It should reassure her that Miranda agrees. Liara is gone. Tali is gone. Garrus is gone. Others that don't matter. Miranda is the only one left who matters. The remaining lives of the galaxy aren't arbitrary but they somehow aren't real. They're numbers. "What about Oriana?" She tries to get her thoughts together. "I'm shit at promises. I'd like to keep this one."

"I appreciate it but I think we both know this is what's right." She takes a deep breath. "I'm not going to give up on my sister. I haven't been given leave to pursue this—but I can't sit on this, Jane. I'll go after her on my own, consequences be damned. I'll track Oriana down while you see to Kenson. Cerberus was supposed to keep Oriana safe. Her safety was Cerberus' payment to me in exchange for my... talents. Later on she was there to keep me in line—until I brought you back. Now that you are, she's not a priority. She's just one person. She's everything to me. Irrelevant to Cerberus."

Shepard's mouth is dry. "That's...cynical." If not accurate. Shepard can't say that she'd do differently than the Illusive Man. Still, she'd prefer for her existence to not screw Miranda out of the reason for hers.

"I'm pragmatic. Not cynical." She stands. "If I know my father, he'll be sending everything he has after her. I can't let them get to her again. Who knows how he's hurt her. How he'll continue to hurt her." There's something more she isn't saying, something more troubling still but she hangs on to it.

"You're not telling me something." Shepard gets to her feet. Miranda is silent. "I'll go with you."

"You can't," Miranda says sharply. She closes her eyes momentarily before touching her forehead. "Thank you, Jane. But it might be best if I handle this on my own after all." Are the words a judgment? She's certain now that Miranda is holding back. "The Illusive Man won't be happy. I believe he wanted me to be backup for this mission of yours. Just in case. I think you'll be fine on your own."

"Doesn't look like anyone's giving me much choice about it."

Miranda smiles wryly. "We never get more than two or three." She walks to her desk and pulls a drawer open, withdrawing her holster belt and pistol. "I'll need you to buy me time if he asks. I'll contact you as soon as I... well, as soon as the matter has been resolved. I know it's a lot to ask."

Shepard frowns at the desk. Isn't she Commander Shepard? These days she's more a puppet. Her fingers trail along the surface of the desk. She isn't in the mood for more goodbyes. "It's nothing to ask. And I'll do you one better."

Oriana prefers Shepard. Shepard was quick with smiles and reassurances. She killed Enyala but seemed very sorry about it. Her tread was steady and sure. Lilah stalks. She is not Enyala but she has the same flint in her eyes. Serrice is cold at night but it's the only time Lilah lets them leave whatever box-like room they've occupied. Lilah doesn't talk. She seems to look past her. When she looks at her, the gaze is knowing, withering.

Oriana is yanked from her thoughts when Lilah grasps her arm, pulling her like broken luggage when she doesn't move quickly enough. Oriana isn't used to being on the run. She doesn't like it. She considers returning to Henry Lawson. He is a firm and guarded man but friendly enough, in a kind of creepy I'll-give-you-candy-if-you-get-into-my-car kind of way. Maybe Lilah's lying. She seems like a jerk. She is a jerk. Why should she trust the word of strangers over the man who claims to be her true father?

Maybe because he sort of kidnapped you?

No. Shepard and Lilah kidnapped her. Rescued you. Whatever. A search on the extranet produced nothing for Lilah. The lack of last name didn't help things. The woman is slippery as an eel. She should let it go. Are you kidding me? Shepard stopped the geth years ago. Her word must mean something.

Lilah tells her to hurry. Oriana quickens her step, heart jumping when she catches her asari 'reflection' on restaurant glass windows and puddles of rainwater. The disguise is weird. Oriana wonders whether Lilah is a racist or doesn't like anyone, period. The second, definitely.

She should have stayed with Shepard. She should have spoken to her in private and asked her. It's stupid really. She doesn't know her from anyone. As far as she knows, Shepard could be wearing a hologram of her own. How much trust should she give to a gut feeling? She had a good feeling about her traitor parents, too. Then it turned out they were terrorists. Lilah and Shepard say they aren't. That's why you're going back to them, remember? Maybe they're not dead. Please let them not be dead. Her thoughts are all over the place.

"How long until Shepard meets us," she asks. She collides with two giggling asari, apologizes and keeps moving. Lilah doesn't answer. "How long—" she starts again.

"If she isn't arrested or killed, I wager not long."

"They won't kill her, will they?" Enough time passes that she knows the conversation has ended whether she wants it to or not. She can't figure the two out. Sometimes Shepard and Lilah look to tolerate each other. Most often they disagree. It's nothing they say. It's the way they look at each other (or won't) when one happens to be speaking. Oriana likes to think she's good at reading body language. Lilah seems even moodier away from Shepard.

"Worry about yourself," Lilah tells her. She stops abruptly, a frown touching her usually flat expression. Oriana doesn't have time to ask what the matter is, Lilah grabs her arm and pulls her into an alleyway. There are two asari making out and feeling each other up in the distance. God. What if Henry or Lilah or Miranda kill her and she dies a virgin? How embarrassing. Oriana tries to ignore the passionate asari.

Lilah leans into the wall and fishes something out of the small bag strapped to her belt. A communication device about the size of one of those 'walkie-talkies' that Oriana saw in a really old movie. The woman looks at it, furrows her brow, then slips it back into her bag. "Great," Oriana says, grimly. "Good news?"

"No," she says with a frown. "No news at all."

Shepard has an emotional side. A dangerous trait to have in a monster. One that Morinth thought Liara T'Soni shattered when she left the Normandy never to return again. Morinth knows Liara wants nothing to do with Shepard because she hasn't contacted her. She knows Liara hasn't contacted her because Shepard wouldn't fuck her with as much vigor, or at all, if she had. She hasn't been able to meld minds with her. The process grows trickier every instance. Morinth gets hungry but she exhibits control. She smiles wryly thinking that her mother would be proud.

What secrets did Liara see in Shepard's mind? Was it as petty as the lovers she's taken? Or could she get in at all? Shepard's mind must be in pieces. It must be sharp and painful to navigate those waters. Something happened to make Liara go. Shepard's sentimental side is transient. If not Garrus, then Tali. If not Samara, her. If not Liara then Miranda. Shepard's so focused on wanting to protect others, not knowing that she values herself most of all. An admirable quality. What a terrible world that shames those who want to enjoy living, who have an ounce of self-preservation.

Now she's on a shuttle with Miranda Lawson, who has been fidgeting with the portable QEC device for some minutes. Miranda doesn't like her. The feeling is mutual. Morinth knows her mother would have approved of the woman, cold and calculating, incapable of having any fun, taking any joy or pleasure. She's beginning to break away from her love of regulation, at least, off on some noble, sanctimonious mission to rescue her sister.

Shepard instructed her as she dressed. "I need you to back her up. Do what you want on your down time if you get any. Have fun. But Miranda and Oriana's safety are your top priority."

Morinth laughed. "You're getting soft, Shepard."

"If anything happens to them, I'm coming after you."

"You'd never catch me."

In the end Morinth agreed to the task. Masquerading as her mother on Thessia could be fun. She has memorized the Code and can quote it like scripture. Hacking her mother's omni-tool had taken some time, but she managed it, and now she has the various security clearances of a justicar. She can pass any superficial inquiry, not that anyone would dare question her. So many stuffed-shirt asari, so many matriarchs brimming with power—and she, with the perfect disguise to suck them dry like juice boxes. She smiles faintly thinking of it. She doesn't miss Miranda's 'subtle' glances in her direction. Miranda isn't sure what to make of her. Morinth's imagined the many ways she could kill her in the small shuttle. Most of them end with Miranda smeared along the walls. Other times she mounts her until Miranda begs for Morinth to have her. All are amusing, but the thoughts leave her aroused and irritated. She'll play along with Shepard and Miranda—for now.

"I have a confession," Miranda says. Morinth looks away from the sea of stars outside the small cubed window. The woman is clearly uneasy. Good. "Our main priority is to get Oriana but there's... another component. It's a little trickier and...it will require discretion."

Morinth's interest perks, but she doesn't move a muscle. "This matter is of great concern to you." Impersonating Samara's voice, while helpful, can become tedious. On this occasion she must fight to keep the smile from her voice. "I will gladly listen if you think I would be of assistance." Shepard asked her to assist and so she will assist. She's surprised that there's another piece to the rescue operation, one that Shepard didn't tell her. One of them, Miranda or Shepard, has been a bad girl. Morinth is delighted.

Miranda nods but still she hesitates. Morinth keeps her hands patiently folded in her lap. Finally, she begins. "When Project Lazarus was created, I was charged with bringing back Shepard. The scope of the project was unprecedented. The odds were a million to one, and even if we succeeded—there were no guarantees that she would come back right." Morinth bites back a smile. Her mother is dead. Shepard didn't come back right. Not Miranda's version of right. "And so, another department was created. They were tasked with creating clones of Shepard." Miranda waits for a reaction.

"I see." Morinth provides.

"The reasons why are irrelevant. The point is that one is loose. I believe she's going by the name of Grace. And I have reason to believe that she's the one who killed Enyala—the woman who brought Oriana to my father."

"You require my aid to give her thanks?" Morinth asks. Miranda blinks at her. This is why playing Samara is a nuisance. "The execution seems just."

"Maybe," Miranda admits reluctantly. "Regardless, that clone is Cerberus property. We can't risk her running loose. It'll turn Shepard against Cerberus and might endanger the battle against the Reapers. If we see the clone we'll take her into custody or kill her."

"An imposter," Morinth muses, "wearing the face of another. To what end, I wonder."

"That's irrelevant. That thing is a clone, meant to replace whatever Shepard may lose. If it has wants or needs, they don't matter." She crosses her arms and tilts her head back. 'Samara' nods in agreement. Bitch. "Whatever we find, we can't tell Shepard about it. We need her strong and focused. We can't afford another disaster like the suicide mission," she mutters.

"Are you still blaming yourself for the barrier?" Morinth knows she is. She knows her type. Miranda won't confide in her but the reminder will weigh heavily on her mind. "I know the importance of discretion, Miranda. I am honored by your trust."

So, there is another Shepard on the loose. A fraud. Morinth swallows her smile. This will be fun after all.

Grace keeps the hood over her head as she buys noodles from a mother and daughter duo at a small food stand. She hadn't realized she was hungry until the waft of food beckoned her. She wouldn't have stopped if the daughter, at a glance, hadn't borne a resemblance to Liara T'Soni.

Grace wonders where she is, how she is. Their interaction was brief but it's stuck with her. She tries not to look at the photograph tucked away in her omni-tool. Sometimes she rereads her Prothean papers. Sometimes Liara creeps into her dreams. There are... thoughts... that seem more than thoughts, more than imagination, vague and oddly specific. The kiss was... Don't think of her. Get to Oriana. Get to Hope.

"You're out late," Grace says. Before shooting Enyala, she explored Serrice late into several nights. Restaurants are open until all hours. The food stands shut down earlier. These asari are friendly and give her a larger size of the to-go cup than she ordered. The noodles steam wide tendrils of white in the chill of the night. Orbs of light are scattered decoratively, bathing the city in a warm, soothing glow. The younger asari smiles at her. Grace returns it. She transfers the credits, tipping generously.

"It's hard to compete with those other restaurants," the mother begins to gather the limited belongings scattered on the counter. "We have to stay out later to stay afloat."

Grace raises the cup of noodles. "Wish you didn't have to. But I appreciate it."

"Uh—we're just closing up," the daughter says when Grace begins walking off. "There's a club not too far from here. I mean—"

Grace pauses in the middle of twirling the noodles around the cup. Her stomach grumbles. Really, she's flattered. On another night… She returns to the girl's side and nods at the mother who pretends not to watch. "I really can't," she tells her quietly. She sees a shadow move behind the girl. Then several shadows, stealthy, stalking. They caught up to her because she stopped for noodles. Because the food stand girl looked like Liara. What would Hope say? How could you be so stupid? She has to move. "But thank you. Goodnight."

Grace turns speedily, taking a quick bite of the noodles, moving fluidly through the crowds that meander the streets. She kicks herself for dawdling, for getting lost in thoughts. She takes another two gulps of noodles before regretfully chucking them into the nearest trashcan. Dark restaurant glass works as well as any mirror. Grace sees them. Six soldiers. Human males in dark, bulky clothing. There are too many people. It's too dangerous to fight here. It was too dangerous to fight on the campus but she didn't have a choice then.

She slips into a skinny alleyway. The walls are wet. She hurries through, making it to the other side before coming to the docks. There is a string of unlit buildings. Grace chooses one, blasting the window lock with biotic power, lifting the window and shimmying inside. Grace isn't sure what the building is. It looks like a warehouse. Massive crates are stacked neatly. Pale circles of light hang overhead, cutting light like bars along the shadowy floor.

There's a bang on the door followed by a quick succession of footsteps. Her heartbeat ramps up. She could run. I won't run. What's the point? Better here than out there. She won't risk innocents because she killed the wrong asari. Or kidnapped the wrong girl? Rescued.

They file in with thick military armor, assault rifles pointed at her. Humans. Bold to be sneaking around Thessia in military gear. Henry Lawson is determined. She thinks of several different ways to kill them all. Maybe there's a way to avoid it. Don't be stupid. Kill them all. Get to Oriana. Get to Hope.

"Where's the girl?" One of them asks. Grace's skin tingles. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stands on end. They'll shoot first and ask questions later. No. They won't. "Our employer is prepared to compensate you handsomely for her return."

With a bullet? "I don't know where she is," Grace says. It happens to be the truth. Not that they'll believe her. "Sorry."

They step closer. "There are two ways for this to end, Shepard."

Ah, that name again. She can't escape it. She can't escape her face. She can't escape people's expectations, their plans. She can't die here. She won't die here. Henry Lawson is a threat. If she lets them kill her, who will make sure Oriana and Hope get away safely? If they kill you, you won't have to kill Shepard. She won't kill Shepard, no matter how happy it'd make Hope. What's the point in killing a hero Spectre? Liara T'Soni loves Shepard. She lost Shepard once, didn't she? What would it do to her to lose her again? Shepard loves Liara. Shepard will be good to Liara. Forget Liara. Forget Hope. Forget Shepard. Focus on the six soldiers with guns pointed at you. "I don't know where she is. I wouldn't tell you if I did. This will end one of two ways. One option: you let me walk out of here and you go back to Lawson and tell him I didn't have the answers he was looking for. Second option: your corpses do the talking. Which will it be?"

There's the click of several assault rifles, lifted to the ready. Grace raises her barrier. So that's how it's going to be. She throws three of them back, their cries cutting short as they slam into the ground. They're helmeted. She yanks the Paladin loose from its holster, squeezing a shot into one soldier's eye piece. The soldier seems to spin on his heel before dropping, lifeless. She sprints around one of the crates, finding cover. They shout orders at one another. They try to flank her. One runs around the corner. Grace grabs him, slides behind, pulls up on his chin. Her omni-blade out, she slashes across the half-inch of skin exposed on his throat. Blood sprays wildly.

She hates this. She kicks him out of cover and sneaks around the other side. The beams overhead are cracked. A hail of bullets sprays in her direction. She jerks the beam with a biotic pull and it gives way. It swings uncontrollably, crashing into one of the men and crushing him. Shots ring out, skipping off her barrier. She was cold before, now she burns. No armor. Barriers only help so much. One fuck up and she's gone. She's already covered in sweat.

The three remaining soldiers are crouched behind cover. Grace tries to steady her breathing. She should have eaten more. Maintaining the barrier is physically hurting her. No armor, no mods, no cooldown amps. Her nose bleeds. You've got to wrap this up, fast. Determined once more she sends out a pull field, ensnaring the soldiers, suspending them in midair. It's unfair to them, really. Grace goes to them and yanks off their helmets. There's nothing remarkable about them. They're shouting, screaming, begging. She could let them go. But they'd return angrier, with more men, after Oriana, after anyone who helped her. "Do you have families?" she asks. "Someone I could send a message to?" One of them swears and spits in her face.

Grace wipes at it. She isn't sure if the spit is bloody or if it's her face. Her hand is red. She studies it, flexing her fingers before lifting the Paladin squarely and squeezing out three dispassionate shots. They crumple. Life is so fragile. It makes her sad. She's still staring at them when she sees red dots dancing along the ground.

"Freeze, Shepard!" Grace turns, Paladin pointed. Four commandos. Great. One of them looks familiar... "Drop your weapon! Drop it!" She doesn't. She keeps it poised on them, measuring her breathing. Is this it...? Is this the end of the line? She thinks of Hope and Oriana. She thinks of the plan. It's all falling apart. She grips the pistol tighter. "You're wanted for questioning in the matter of the disappearance of Oriana Lawson."

Grace grits her jaw. Their barriers are strong. They cascade over her. Recognition dawns on her. Ilos. The scientists. The commando. "Lieutenant Kurin."

"Don't fight this, Shepard. I've seen what you can do. Don't make it into something bigger than it already is. You helped me before. I'll try to help you now but not if you don't stand down." Kurin doesn't lower the assault rifle. Assassins bent on killing her and kidnapping a girl are one thing. Agents of a diplomacy-driven government sent to question her are another.

What about Hope and Oriana? Kill the commandos. Hope would want you to blow their brains out. The mission comes first. The mission always comes first. She takes a step forward, pistol still brandished, arms tense. "Let me walk out of here. I don't want to fight." There's a red dot over her heart, she feels the heat of another laser on her forehead. The safeties are released. Grace exhales shakily. Blood dribbles down her nose and over her mouth. The barrier won't mean anything at this range. Maintaining it is making her nauseated. She takes another step forward. They don't pull the trigger. They're shaky. If you're going to kill them, kill them. Don't hold back. Slaughter them. Get to Oriana. Get to Hope. What would killing them mean? Would all of Thessia pursue her? Would getting to the space port matter? Do you want innocent blood on your hands? Is that the kind of person you want to be?

Perspiration beads on Kurin's forehead. She's nervous. Scared. Grace has the advantage. She hears Hope's voice in her mind, telling her to do what needs to be done. She lowers her hand and tosses the gun. The commandos look relieved. She's still as Kurin slips behind her, pulling her arms back, breathing an apology. She's numb as Kurin slaps omni-cuffs onto her wrists. She's trapped. Arrested. It's over. It's over.

They march her out the warehouse and through the city. They march her past the food stand where she bought noodles earlier. Her face burns with shame. Smeared in blood, cuffed and escorted by commandos. How did everything go so wrong?