Rasa lies in bed, arms folded behind her head, watching shadows play on the ceiling. They stretch and shift, shrinking and reaching with the flow of the outside traffic. Bright neon colors splash across the walls, a spark in the darkness. It seems like years since she's spent any time in the Citadel wards. It hasn't been that long. She's lost sense of time. It came to a crashing stop the moment Shepard pulled herself out of that hole on Tuchanka.

Rasa thinks of her eyes. They were hazel but Rasa remembers them as grey. Empty. Her stomach clenches in a reminder. She can't remember the last time she ate or felt anything. Why didn't you shoot? She didn't have a choice. Grace is dead. She should have stopped Grace from running off. She still isn't sure how much time passed after Morinth knocked her out cold. She awoke on the Citadel. Did she drug her? Is her memory simply failing her?

Rasa turns on her side and sighs a shaking breath. Every piece of her is cold and numb. She needs to move. She needs to plan but she has nothing in her. How pathetic. How did she let herself get so invested in what was ultimately a failure? Shepard stopped Grace twice. Some part of her hoped she would be wrong. Grace would emerge victorious and take her hand, pull her to her feet.

Rasa flexes her fingers uncertainly. They're still bound and recovering. She stares at the wrinkles in the pillow. Get up. You have work to do. She knows that. But what work? She poured every hope, every plan into Grace. There is no Grace. She's dead. Move on. Yes. Yes, of course.

Who knows what Shepard will do now? Is there any hope for her? There must be. Maybe she can talk sense into her. Maybe she can use Liara to talk sense into her. Or maybe Miranda has that control chip. Miranda told her how they did a facial reconstruction. When was that…? Around the time they were dealing with Samara's daughter. It might have been Samara fighting for her life. They might need the control chip. They could tranquilize Shepard, forcibly implant her. Something. You could have shot her.

Grace didn't get a burial. It isn't fair. Rasa wanted to see her, look at her, confirm. Close her eyes, kiss her. But did she really want to see? How did Shepard leave her? Would it haunt her instead? Why can't she bloody let it go? Her eyes sting.

Her omni-tool goes off. She ignores it. It goes off every half hour, reminding her until at last she finds the energy to lift her arm. A message from Miranda. I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore. But it does. She closes her eyes. Eventually she wills herself to look at the message.

I have new intel. It looks like Udina is in bed with Cerberus. I don't have enough to go to C-Sec or the Council on my own—they'd likely have me arrested, anyway. I need you and Grace to meet me at the Citadel to investigate. Time is of the essence.

- M

It's strange. Grace is dead. She's known. She hasn't been able to forget. But seeing her name is like a knife in her gut. She has to get up. She has to. For an hour she tells herself to sit up. Eventually she's able to. Her bare feet touch the floor. The Wraith sits uselessly on the nightstand. She isn't sure she'd have the energy to pick it up if she needed to. Get yourself together. The galaxy is at stake. Do something. Stand up for something. Anything. Make it right.

Rasa swallows hard and rubs at her eyes. She types.

Grace is dead. Shepard killed her. Meet you when you arrive.

- Rasa

Miranda stares at the message. Grace is dead. It's unfortunate, but she's unsure how to feel. Grace was created as spare parts. She was never supposed to wake up and have any sort of life. Now she's gone. It was inevitable. The galaxy simply couldn't abide two Shepards.

Miranda thinks of her sister-clones – the ones that preceded her – all of whom disappointed her father in one way or another. They departed the world before she had a chance to meet them. She was the first to be allowed an existence beyond infancy. Ultimately, she disappointed her father, too—a fact she now takes perverse pride in. If she's lucky, she'll get to see the disappointment in his eyes one last time before she ends his existence.

She glances over at Oriana, who is napping on a dingy sofa. She hasn't shared her patricidal thoughts with her only living sister-clone. Oriana knows some of what Miranda went through, what Henry has done, but she still isn't in quite the same place when it comes to their father. Some part of her still thinks he can be redeemed. It's naïve optimism, but Miranda loves her for it. She'll do anything to protect her. She needs to find a way to get her out of this life.

There's a bandage wrapped around Oriana's left arm, a bit of blood seeping through. Medi-gel is increasingly hard to find. A bullet grazed her as they fled Hyetiana, where they stayed too long. They risked exposure to the encroaching Reapers, utilizing resources abandoned by an evacuating populace. The Reapers were in the Silean Nebula, having just taken Dekuuna days before. Staying in a neighboring system was dangerous, but they needed quantum computing power to help decrypt the latest batch of data they intercepted.

It was Cerberus that found them first, and they were forced to flee with the job half done. Oriana almost paid for what they recovered with her life. They both did. And all Miranda was able to gather from the data was indications that Udina has been in communication with the Illusive Man. To what purpose, she could not discern, but it must be something big. What could the Illusive Man want from him? What would Udina be getting out of it? Udina is ambitious and conniving, but he wouldn't sell himself out just to fatten his bank account.

Rasa will help her find out what they're up to, assuming she can keep her head on straight. Miranda's not without pity for the woman's loss. At times, she spoke of Grace as if she were just a project, a tool to be used. At other times, it was clear that Grace meant much more to her than that. Shepard took away the only thing Rasa cared about. There will be emotional fallout. She'll have to be watched closely.

She wonders what it would be like to murder your own doppelganger. She imagines it would be confusing and traumatic, like some grotesque act of self-mutilation. Perhaps it was the exact opposite for Shepard. Perhaps she found it cathartic, like exorcising a personal demon. 'Grace' was just another obstacle to be annihilated without remorse. A carbon copy with no mother, no father, no real connections to this world. Nothing but the illusion of a destiny.

Rasa always said that Shepard wasn't up to the task of saving the galaxy. It was the reason for taking the clone and molding it as she did. With Grace dead, her plan B for galactic salvation is gone, as deranged and outlandish as that plan may have been. What did she think? That Grace would kill Shepard, assume her identity, take control of the Normandy, and lead galactic civilization to victory? Ridiculous. It's the kind of conceit found only in science fiction stories. Even Rasa must now agree that Shepard is their best hope for defeating the Reapers, as troubling as her affiliation with Cerberus may be.

Perhaps it isn't too late to do something about the last.

Before she left the Normandy, she felt like she had finally broken through with Shepard. With Jane. They were fresh off defeating the Collectors, and Jane had finally begun to trust her and confide in her. They had become something like friends. What if she hadn't left at that crucial time? Oh, she had to leave, no question. She won't second-guess her decision to go after Oriana. Still, what if she had been there to continue advising Jane? Could she have steered her away from whatever demented path the Illusive Man ultimately led her down?

Perhaps some of that trust she built with Shepard is still there. Perhaps there's an avenue to explore, a way for her to break the Illusive Man's hold over her. It's worth a try. But she needs to know more about Shepard's state of mind. She could contact her and try to feel her out, but a "Hey, how ya doing?" email after all this time would be transparent. She'd only tip her hand.

No, she needs a less direct approach. Who can she talk to? Who can give her the assessment she needs? Liara would be ideal, but she's out of the picture for the time being. Garrus? Hm. Possibly. Very risky. He's about as likely to tell Miranda to fuck off as he is to help her. Still, he proved not to be entirely unreasonable the last time, despite his initial hostility. It's an option, but is there anyone else she can reach out to?

Traynor.

Samantha Traynor. The brilliant, lovely, intriguing Comm Specialist, who according to Liara has been in Shepard's dog house. Miranda had thought to shut down that line of communication, but perhaps it's time to reopen it. Mh. Yes. Samantha Traynor might be the best option. She feels a nervous energy as she begins to type.

Samantha,

I hope you've been well. I'm pleased that you are safe aboard the Normandy. I apologize for the delay in response. Things have been heated here, and unfortunately they don't look to be easing up any time soon. I must also apologize for once again writing to ask for your aid. Don't worry, I'll leave your parents out of this one. If possible, I'd like you to provide me with an update on Commander Shepard. We used to work together and I've heard she's out of sorts. I know you haven't known her for very long but you're the only one I can ask. Respond only if it's safe enough to do so. I'd hate to put you in danger. If you help me out again, I'll be indebted even more so than I already am. You have me at quite a disadvantage.

- Miranda

She reads it, rereads it, and hits send. She hopes for a timely response, though it likely won't be anything she can act upon immediately. There is a more pressing matter at hand. Udina. She looks to the sofa again. Oriana has stirred awake and returns Miranda's gaze.

"What's up, Sis?" she asks through a yawn, stretching her arms. "Something the matter?"

Grace is dead. The news will sadden her. She liked Grace. She'll tell her later, on the shuttle. For now, she offers a soft smile. "It can wait. Ever been to the Citadel?"

X3 wakes moments before the knock comes at the door. Quickly, she gets out of bed and begins to dress. She knows who it is. She knows why they've come.

She looks across the small dorm room, to the cot furthest from the door. Annalise stirs groggily at the knocking, pulling back her covers. It's two thirty in the morning. This is how they do it. This is how they treat family.

X3 continues to dress as another knock comes at the door. "Open up, or we're coming in!"

Annalise sits up, suddenly awake, alarm in her eyes. "Is it an inspection?" X3 slips the last piece of armor on, looks at her, gives a slight shake of her head. Fear floods Annalise's features. "Oh shit! They're gonna take us? Three, I don't want…"

The door kicks in. Splinters of wood bounce off X3's face as she faces the intruders. Two men with guns, and more men in the hallway behind them. They see her there, waiting, fully dressed and armed. They hesitate, if only for a moment. One of them steps into the room. His eyes are silver, his skin oddly translucent. "X3 and Annalise Reinhardt. You will come with us."

"Where?" Annalise asks, gathering up her clothes.

He glances at her briefly, uninterested in her nudity, then back at X3. "To the Integration facility."

"We have already been integrated," X3 replies. "We are family."

"You're due for upgrades. You will accompany us now."

X3 doesn't move. She saw what happened to Combat Engineer Meer when he came back with his new upgrades last week. He was stronger, yes, but gone were the jokes and the shameless flirtations that Annalise would later have to explain to her. Gone was his personality, replaced by joyless obedience. X3 never found him charming, but he hadn't been altogether disagreeable. Annalise liked him. She doesn't like being around him anymore. "No," X3 says coldly, her hand going to the hilt of her sword.

"Attendance is mandatory. You will comply." He steps forward and reaches for her arm. Her sword comes out in a flash and his hand falls to the floor. He stumbles back, silver eyes wide, too-thick, too-dark blood gushing from his stump.

The other man in the doorway shoots. She has already anticipated his movement and stepped to the side. The bullet passes through empty air and makes a hole in the wall. She raises her palm cannon and fires. The man's face disappears and he slumps to the ground.

The men in the hallway jostle, pulling weapons, yelling, unsure who should go in next. Behind her, Annalise babbles. "Oh fuck, oh shit, oh Jesus." X3 positions herself between the door and Annalise. She'll kill them all if she has to.

"Hold!" someone yells. She knows that voice. Kai Leng. He comes forward, sword drawn, the others parting before him. He steps over the dead man and into the room. He looks to the whimpering man holding a bleeding stump where a hand used to be, futilely trying to stem the flow of blood. Leng runs a sword through his neck. He gurgles and topples over.

The small room is a horror show, blood spattered everywhere, the two growing pools merging into one around Leng's feet. X3 stares at him. She's seen little of him since that day on Omega. He went chasing after Paul Grayson and disappeared for several months. His legs are covered with implants now. She wonders what happened to him. A pity that whoever managed to damage him didn't finish the job.

Leng turns to the others. "Leave," he says. They look back at him confusedly. "Now!" They back away and disappear down the hall. He turns back to her. "What's the problem, X3?"

She shrugs. It's an expression, a combination of bodily movements that she deciphered, practiced and incorporated. "A family disagreement," she answers.

The corners of Leng's lips tug upward. "I gave you a choice, X3. This wasn't our arrangement."

It's mean to shake her, to shame her. She doesn't waiver. "I know."

"I see." He paces, his feet making small, wet noises in the blood. "You don't want the upgrades, is that it?"

"That's it," she agrees.

"They'll make you better. Stronger."

She nods to each of the dead men in turn. "Were they better, stronger?"

He barks a laugh at that. "Fair point. Still, you'd be surprised." He stops, tilts his head, looks up, as if pondering. "Or maybe you wouldn't even notice a difference. You're barely human as it is." He's trying to goad her. She remains still, says nothing. He resumes pacing. "I could make you take the upgrades. Or maybe I'll just kill you, and do whatever I want with the blonde." Annalise has pulled all of her clothes on. She remains silent, standing behind X3.

X3 raises her sword. "You won't."

He looks at the sword disdainfully, and barks another mirthless laugh. "You don't actually think you can beat me, do you?"

Yes.

Maybe.

She weighs the answers. Leng is prideful. He would take either response as a challenge. She's never bested him, but she has improved much since they last sparred. No. There are too many soldiers. They would never escape the facility. They'd die here this night. "No," she replies, sword still raised.

"But you'd try anyway," he states. "Rather than accept the upgrades."

"Yes."

He considers for a long moment, a slight smirk on his face. "All right, X3. I've seen the reports. Your numbers have been acceptable." Acceptable? She and Annalise have the best numbers of any team in the facility, by far. Leng sheathes his sword. "I'll postpone the upgrades for now. So long as you remember who your family is, we'll be fine. We'll revisit this after the Citadel mission." He turns and leaves without a second glance.

They watch until his trail of bloody footprints fades into the darkness. Annalise comes to her and throws her arms around her. X3 is unpracticed with reacting to this kind of physical contact. Awkwardly, she returns the embrace, standing stiffly, stroking Annalise's back with one hand. Is this what she's supposed to do? "I don't like it here, Three," the woman says, burying her head in X3's shoulder. "I joined Cerberus because of what the batarians did to my family. I thought Cerberus stood for humanity. Now the batarians have been wiped out by the Reapers, and we're fighting the Alliance. This… This isn't right."

X3 moves her hand up, stroking Annalise's hair. "I know." She'll find a way out. She looks at the carnage in the room. This isn't how family behaves.

"Ah, Garrus, a moment of your time?"

Garrus cranes his head as best as he can. Dr. Michel is peering out of the med-bay, a hand stretched out. He thinks of the shitty old human vids Tali used to make him watch. Women with their hands stretched past doors, windows, a handkerchief in hand, seeking someone to curry favor. He looks down at the same, tired green paste on his meal tray and dumps it. His appetite isn't what it should be and the Normandy meals aren't doing him any favors.

He puts the tray away and goes to the med-bay, wondering why he feels uneasy. If not uneasy, then nervous. The med-bay is empty except for the two of them. Dr. Michel doesn't get much company. Garrus has found himself stopping by more and more. He can't think of anyone who gets half as excited to see him. It used to be Shepard but despite their last talk, despite that he remains on the ship, she appears more reserved, more reclusive. Back to business as usual. He isn't sure why he hasn't left. He still might. "What's going on?" he asks. "Is Shepard being difficult?"

Dr. Michel arches her eyebrows, before smiling quizzically and shaking her head. "No, she's been well-behaved since she returned to the clinic last time." Hmph. Not because of him. If nothing else, he can always send Liara to twist her arm when anything needs doing. She's just the right wrench to apply pressure to the lug nut. Michel turns to her desk and lifts a box.

The wrapping is a deep, shiny blue with gold ribbon. Garrus blinks. "Uh. What is that?"

"It's for you." She shakes it at him. "Well, go on."

He laughs, short and dry and takes the box tentatively. The small, slippery ribbon is a bitch to get his claws around, but he manages to pull it free. She takes it from him and sets it aside while he gets to work on the rest of the package, his talons leaving white trails on the paper. When he's finished unwrapping he stares. Dextro chocolates. He looks at them for a full minute before looking at her. "Uh. Hrmph." He clears his throat. His stomach feels like it's thrashing. Interesting. "Well, Dr. Michel, if you're trying to work your way into my heart through my stomach, I think it might be working."

This time she's the one to laugh, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, touching his arm gently. He looks at her fingers, pale and human and casual, against him. Is she flirting? Would she flirt with him? Would he like it? She's a human but… maybe he shouldn't be close-minded. Tali was a quarian. The reminder makes his stomach knot in a decidedly different way than a moment ago. Who's he kidding?

"Try one," she encourages.

He smiles, pulling the lid open and popping a chocolate into his mouth. Ah, sweet flavor. After the garbage he's been eating for months, this is pure ecstasy. Like hitting a target dead on. He makes a small moan of delight. "If you've got any favors to ask for, now's the time. I'm pretty sure I'll buckle on just about anything." He eyes the rest of the chocolates. He'll have to ration them. They're a delicacy and can be pricy. "Dextro chocolate's hard to come by. How'd you get a hold of them?"

"Let's just say I know how to get what I want," she gives a small shrug. She's flirting, right? Gotta be. Iiiiinteeerrreeesssstiiiing. "I'll keep a list of favors handy."

Garrus chuckles. "I'd share but I doubt they'd do much for you. They're damned good, so I'm almost glad I can't." He covers the box. "This was… thoughtful." He nods at her. He can't remember the last time anyone went out of their way on a gesture like this. It reminds him that he's been lonely. "Thank you. Sometimes… it's the little things."

"I thought you could use something nice after everything you've done for me. I've heard rumors… you're thinking of leaving?"

Ah. So that's going around, is it? Damn. "Maybe you've changed my mind, Dr. Michel." He waves the box of chocolates. "This is a damned compelling argument."

"Ah, so it's the chocolate that's done it, yes?" She smiles, turning back to her desk, taking a seat. "It will have to do."

A message has come in from Miranda. Dear God. After all this time, Samantha was sure the woman was dead. Or perhaps she got everything she needed from you and saw no need to contact you again? That's likely it. Too bad. The woman is easy on the eyes, very, very easy and after you got past that bitchy exterior she seemed an all right sort. Via email, anyway. Who knows what it would be like to interact with her again? The chances of you finding out are about nil. What could she want?

The cursor hovers over the message. Samantha's curious but Shepard steps out of the elevator. Samantha immediately straightens. The Miranda email must be forgotten. It likely falls into 'personal' territory and she doesn't want to do anything else to get on Shepard's bad side. "Traynor," she barks, "I need you in the War Room, now."

"Oh." What? Why? What'd she do now? She hasn't gone to her with Cerberus leads and she has, unless she's blocked out any traumatic memory, stayed out of her way as best as possible. "Erm, yes, Ma'am." Shepard waits, inclining her head towards the War Room before following after her. A cold chill spreads over her. Oh, God. What will I be chewed out for this time? It's just a pity that such a beautiful woman should be such a merciless bitch. She moves past Westmoreland and Campbell, trying to contain any grimace.

When they arrive at the War Room, Samantha notices the crew has been cleared out. The non-essentials, anyway. Liara and Garrus are there, seemingly as resentfully as Samantha herself. Shepard moves around the room cautiously; she seems to always be drinking in her surroundings, eyes constantly vigilant.

"Was this so important that it couldn't wait?" Liara asks. Shepard sets her hands down on the war data console and looks across the small island to her. Samantha manages to wince inwardly and cheer Liara on at once. "The scientists won't get themselves to the Crucible. Someone has to make arrangements."

"Slow down, Liara," Garrus has one hand on the console and though he speaks to Liara, he looks at Shepard impatiently, as eager to bolt as Samantha is. "If she's called us here it's important. How high should we jump, Shepard? Just don't ask me to roll. It's hard for a turian." His voice drips with sarcasm.

Samantha is in awe of his skill, envious and somewhat startled that she's here to see this happen. In a room full of legends and here she is, watching this incredibly awkward exchange. "Should I go…?" she asks tentatively.

"No." Shepard doesn't look at her. That cut on her eyebrow is mean but healing. It'll leave a scar straight through, it looks like. Does she just want to look scarier than she already is? Shepard sets her gaze on Garrus and Liara. "Are you two done pouting yet or have you forgotten that I'm the captain of this ship?" Garrus' mandibles stretch before tightening around his face. Liara's eyes get cold like Samantha's never seen. She holds back a shiver.

Garrus' smile is scary. "Fine, Captain. Enlighten us as to why we're here."

He and Shepard stare one another down. A tight smile pulls at Shepard's lips though her hands are pale on the console. "I've been keeping track of Cerberus' movements and operations. It is absolutely essential that we put a stop to them wherever they are, wherever they go. This is a top priority. Whatever they're up to, it isn't good and it could compromise the war effort." Liara exchanges a look with Samantha and scoffs softly. Shepard looks at her. "Do we have a problem, T'Soni?"

Liara doesn't back down. She sets her hands on the console and meets Shepard's gaze dead on. "No problem, Commander. Except I recall multiple instances of you reaming both myself and Specialist Traynor out when we tried to come to you with Cerberus intelligence." Samantha shrinks back into herself. Why's she dragging me into it? Just when Shepard had forgotten me. "We tried to impress upon you how important it was and you downplayed all of it. And now it's a top priority?"

Shepard massages her temple. Garrus looks to nearly be smiling while Liara continues to look hard at Shepard. "Yes. Now it's a top priority. Look—a lot has happened and this war is pulling me in every direction. Maybe I fucked the Cerberus piece up, who knows," she says dismissively, "but these are now my orders, understand? Traynor. I've blown you off before, sorry," she says awkwardly, "but I need you coming to me with everything you find from now on, got it?"

That's no change at all. Maybe the other Shepard was an evil twin. "Yes, Ma'am."

"I've found a few things," Shepard hands her a stack of handwritten notes. "I don't know what's actually there, but I've got my suspicions. Trace any signals and communications that look to be off. Same to you, Liara. You hear anything… from anywhere," she appears uncertain now, "I want to know about it. Don't pass it off to anybody."

"If that's what you'd like," Liara shrugs indifferently.

"That's great," Garrus says, "but why am I here? Need something calibrated?"

"Your attitude," Shepard retorts. "You've been with me since the beginning and this is a strategy meeting. Why shouldn't you be here?" Garrus straightens, looks at her curiously. "Now, if there's nothing more—"

"Actually," Liara begins. Once again she glances at Samantha. Samantha gives a small nod. She's been digging around again. Liara told her to go to her with anything she might find. Samantha had, hoping to find some ulterior method to get people the help they needed without being thrown out an airlock by Shepard in the process. Their collaboration has worked well enough, it would seem, given the results. "Samantha has been investigating odd signals. Upon further investigation, it seems there is Cerberus activity on Eden Prime. It appears they have uncovered a Prothean artifact."

"And you just have to see it," Shepard smirks. Samantha can't read her tone. Does Liara have a thing for Prothean artifacts? "Eden Prime has been shit on often enough without Cerberus interfering. Set course for Eden Prime. If Cerberus is there, we take them out."

"You're sure?" Liara asks skeptically.

"They're all indoctrinated," Shepard says moving around the group, exiting towards CIC. "There's no one there worth saving."

The shuttle bumps in the air currents, shaking them all. Shepard hangs on to a handlebar. Liara stands not too far from her. Both do a pretty good job of not looking at one another or looking only when the other is distracted or lost in thought.

"Hey, Lola," James calls out. Liara turns to him first. "Lola!" Shepard looks at him, eyebrow cocked quizzically. Shit. She's been out of it. When they returned from Tuchanka she walked past him for a week before he pinned her down for answers on what he'd done wrong. She'd made some excuse and left him as soon as she could. So much for saving her ass from the Reapers back on Earth. Ah, that's gratitude for you. Maybe he's only some grunt to her. How can he compare to the people who've been with her since the beginning? "Excited to be going back to Eden Prime?"

She laughs caustically. "What's there to be excited about? A lot of good people died on that rock. They've had a bad run. Saren, the Geth and now Cerberus."

Huh. Here he was expecting some hoo-ahs, instead he gets words blanketed in regret. Guess there are things that hold even Commander Shepard back. He thinks of the Collectors back on Fehl Prime. Grits his jaw, forces a smile. "At least you were there to stop them before."

"And we'll stop them again," Liara says with a nod to Shepard.

Shepard clings tightly to the handlebar, her expression sober before she turns a smile to Liara. "You just don't want anything near that Prothean artifact."

Liara shifts, her cheeks darkening. Is she embarrassed? Damn. It looks good on her. It's a definite change from her typical icy veneer.

"Shepard, please."

"Bet you didn't know Protheans were her first love," Shepard calls over to James, a casual smile touching her lips. Liara glares sharply at her but Shepard keeps her head ducked.

"They're less disappointing," Liara retorts. Shepard's smile gets tight but she says nothing, does nothing, except glare at the shuttle door. James whistles. Huh. This is awkward.

Huh. A real live Prothean. Shepard touches the pod it's in. Liara practically dances with excitement. So this is what it takes to get her to smile again. "So, a Prothean artifact and possible new bondmate. I'd say your life is complete."

"I would have preferred a dinosaur," James complains. He hammers a hand hard on the pod. "Yo, man, get up. Cerberus is going to be on our ass any minute."

Liara puts a hand to her head, as if warding a headache. Shepard smiles and gets a deeper scowl in return. "Please," Liara says tightly to James, "we must be careful not to damage the pod. Do you know how important this is?" Shepard raises an eyebrow, considers 'I'm sure you'll tell us' but doesn't want to give Liara more reason to be angry. "This is the last Prothean. Think of what he could tell us about the Reapers in his cycle." And there's the explanation.

"Bueno, I'm not expecting any great tips," James says, "He's the last Prothean for a reason, am I right?" he slaps Shepard hard in the stomach.

Shepard looks from his hand, to James, to Liara. "Right," she mutters. Big guy. Seems nice enough. Not the brightest on the block. She hopes he's good in a fight. Garrus wasn't up for coming out and the last thing she wants is a distracted turian at her back.

"We have to find the command signal that ends the stasis mode. We'll likely find our answers in some of the nearby research labs," Liara is moving before either James or Shepard can say anything. "Just think. He could be a scientist or a diplomat…"

"While we're here we should try to save some of the colonists," Shepard points out wryly.

"Of course," Liara balks and looks at the two with some embarrassment. "All right. Let's do everything we can… for everyone." They walk past various bunkers, all in some state of disarray, some filled with bullet-riddled bodies. "Eden Prime. It seems to constantly be under attack. Always having to start over." She glances at Shepard, "I suppose you know some of what that's like. You grew up on ships."

Yes. She did. In this life. In the last. Still, the question makes her uncomfortable. She's lying. She's not lying. "You lose a ship, you get another one," or steal another one, or kill the pilots and take another one. "Rinse and repeat."

"But it must be difficult," Liara insists. "It isn't the same, is it?"

She thinks of how she watched the Normandy splinter into pieces before exploding. "No, it's not. You lose some things. Some things you never get back."

"Yes," she agrees sadly. Shepard looks at her.

"Hey, not to interrupt your tender chat but we got Cerberus incoming!" James shouts, darting ahead for cover. Liara swiftly ducks behind a stone planter while Shepard slips around a stack of crates. "Man, you weren't kidding around Liara. I see five shuttles!"

"Just take it easy and breathe, James," Shepard yanks the Carnifex from her side. She hates this stupid pistol. She wants her Paladin back. The M-22 Eviscerator sits uselessly on her back, the handle still stained red with the blood spilt on Tuchanka. "Remember, Cerberus doesn't get to walk away. They started this but we'll be the ones to finish it. Understood?"

James laughs. "Hoo-ah!"

He fixes the M-96 Mattock on the stream of soldiers jumping down from the shuttle while Shepard traps the group with a singularity field. Liara looks cautiously at her. Shepard winks. "Come on, T'Soni, you don't get off scot-free because you have a pretty face. Let's mop some of these bastards up!" Shepard hurls a biotic throw at the spinning soldiers, setting off a biotic detonation that has her ears ringing for a few moments. She pushes through it, forging ahead before tearing the ground ahead with a shockwave. More soldiers scatter. James pops them off easily.

Shepard dives into cover besides Liara. "You've picked up a few tricks," Liara says, holding tightly to the M-4 Shuriken SMG. "Can't say I ever saw those in your arsenal before."

Because Jane Shepard fought like a lunatic. She freezes before laughing. "Jack taught me a few moves last time I saw her."

"Did she? I wasn't aware it was biotic tricks she was sharing," her voice chills. Shepard winces. Jesus fuck, did Shepard sleep with her, too? "I haven't seen you pull that shotgun of yours out in some time. Learning to be prudent?"

"Are you double dog daring me?" Shepard asks, the sweat running down her face leaves her cold. She holsters the Carnifex, takes a breath and pulls the Eviscerator from her back. "Look, I know you're angry but if you can take your eyes off me for a minute and help out, that'd be great." She jumps out of cover, takes a breath and surges forward. This always feels unnatural and reckless. She jumps, slamming down a biotic shockwave that makes the Cerberus soldiers stumble. She's unused to fighting like a vanguard, to channeling the energy that way. It makes her unsteady. She cocks the shotgun and blows one of the soldier's heads off before blasting another man nearly in half.

She turns to see an engineer spinning and screaming in the air. Liara walks closer, her hips rocking gently from side to side, before she puts a bullet in his head. He spins, bleeding before he falls. "Have I contributed enough?" she asks, looking down at the turret that's only halfway propped. She knocks it over onto its back with her foot. "You have a…" her fingers come up, pinching Shepard's nose and wiping the blood away. Her voice lowers. "Are you all right?"

Shepard looks at the blood, bright against Liara's fingers. She's lightheaded. "Fine," she says shortly. "Let's get moving."

I was a soldier, not a scientist, skilled in one art: killing.

Liara takes the elevator to Shepard's cabin. So much for all her Prothean romanticism. She's devoted half of her life to their study and for what? In fifteen minutes all of her beliefs have been dashed. Some Prothean expert she is. When this war is over, if they all survive, she isn't sure she'll have a career in academia anymore. Javik is curt, blunt, and pessimistic. The Protheans ran a galactic empire, gained through bloodshed, built on subjugation… All of it is so… dispiriting.

To think that she thought he could help them build the Crucible. He doesn't know what the Catalyst is, his own race was wiped out and they never even finished the Crucible. What could Cerberus have wanted from him? All she has are questions. She's grateful to Shepard. She can't remember the last time she felt that way. Would Javik have answered her questions if Shepard hadn't intervened?

But still, something happened when Javik took tight hold of Shepard, something that seemed to puzzle them both. Shepard went pale and sweaty. Javik simply seemed unsettled. They got through their questions but Shepard left as quickly as she could.

She shouldn't worry. Especially with how obnoxious Shepard acted earlier in the day… but even so… she's concerned. Shepard's been better lately, hasn't she? She's been slightly more on track and that's… well, that's all she can hope for, she supposes.

Once more she considers knocking but once again she simply steps into the room. Shepard is huddled over her desk. Liara narrows her eyes carefully but soon sees that she's working on a ship model. The box is off to the side, some of the pieces still wrapped in small plastic bags. Shepard turns cautiously to her, a small bottle of glue in hand. Liara looks at the scattered pieces, the empty model shelf, the photograph of herself that Shepard still keeps framed and on the desk. "Hey," Shepard says lightly though her smile is strained. "I'm surprised you've come up for air with that Prothean around."

"His name is Javik." But Shepard knows that. Liara thinks she's only looking to argue. If only Shepard didn't make it so easy. "I was thinking of his sensory ability." Shepard sets the glue down and rests her hand on her knees, her fingers twitching. "It must be… very useful."

"Yeah, who needs grayboxes when you have something like that?" she stands, paces. Grayboxes? They never got Kasumi's. She died before it happened. Shepard's barefoot, her boots off to the side. Liara watches her. Shepard notices and stops. "Uh—he say anything weird? Weirder?"

"Like what?" Why is she fidgeting? Shepard shrugs. "It reminds me a little of the melding process." Shepard laughs, her eyes averted. "You don't think so?"

"I'm not in any rush to do that again. Uh—with him, I mean," she brings a hand nervously to her hair. "Not that I'm in a rush to meld with you—or not meld. I'm not thinking about either," she adds quickly.

Liara crosses her arms. This again. Is she going to push? Still… she's not used to seeing Shepard be so… awkward. It's almost endearing. If only she hadn't been difficult and wrong for so long. "Thank you. That was… enlightening." Shepard smiles palely. Liara looks around the room. "I'm glad you're working on some of those models. Your room could stand some decoration. You know," she takes a step closer, lowering her voice though no one else is near, "you don't have to keep that picture there. After everything…" she bites her tongue. "It just isn't necessary."

"You know, today's the first time in years I've seen that dorky archaeologist I fell in love with." They wince. Shepard turns the photograph so it doesn't face them but she doesn't set it down, she doesn't return it. "Um… so… I've been going through your papers again."

"You have not," Liara says huffily. She certainly hopes Shepard hasn't. After speaking with Javik she's humiliated. Did she get anything right about them in the papers? Outside of the fact that they were wiped out by the Reapers?

"I have. You've written over a dozen articles, you know, many published in journals."

Shepard's impersonation is not entirely inaccurate. Liara seethes, and more foolishly, feels her eyes burning. From what? Anger? Embarrassment? That Shepard could tease her right now when she's feeling so sensitive about it? How thoughtless of her. Why does she care what Shepard thinks? But wasn't that how they fell in love? Shepard got the beacon and the Cipher and Liara tried to make sense of it with her. Those were their original melds, before they became more intimate. "You must really be enjoying this."

Shepard takes a step back uncertainly. "It feels easy enough," she admits, though from her expression, Liara can't read how Shepard feels about that easiness. "Look, forget the papers. If it wasn't for your studies we wouldn't have…" she thinks, "the Crucible and we wouldn't have… well… we wouldn't have had everything else." She buries her hands in her pockets. "But… I'm sure you didn't come here for that. What's up?"

"I was worried," she accuses, "after Javik grabbed hold of you, I thought…" what did she think? She isn't sure. "You didn't look well."

"Mh. I know how you hate sharing so I think I'll leave Javik the Prothean for you." She sits, fingers buried in her hair. "I don't like that… thing he does. I don't want him around me—reading everything."

Liara understands the feeling. No matter how useful the sensory ability is, there is something invasive about it. Another part of her wonders why Shepard would avoid it. "You've never been one to hide anything." Shepard says nothing, her jaw grit tightly. "Are you…? Hiding something?" Shepard stares straight at the computer monitor. Liara tentatively touches a hand to her shoulder. She half-expects Shepard to lash out. Or take her in her arms. She does neither. Her body is tense but gradually it relaxes. Shepard turns to look at her. She looks sad. "I know I'm the Shadow Broker… but I don't know everything."

"I just don't want him around," she says casually. "He doesn't exactly ask, does he?"

"Remind you of anyone you know?"

Shepard stands. "Very funny."

"But it isn't so different from melding. You never minded that." A blush crawls its way up her cheeks, surprising her.

Shepard notices and Liara's even more embarrassed. "That's different," Shepard says softly. She touches Liara's face, her thumb easing carefully along the warmth of her cheek. Liara knows how gentle those hands can be, how violent. They both pull away at the same time. Liara's heading to the door when Shepard calls after her. "Why didn't you respond to my emails?" she looks at the terminal. "I've been… I've been looking through everything I sent you. Sometimes I begged."

Liara's lips thin. Why does she have to keep bringing that up? How many ways can she say it without hurting her? "You lied to me, Shepard. You lied. You hurt me. You cheated on me. You were different. I didn't recognize you." Shepard swallows, clears her throat, looks away. Liara takes a step closer. She remembers the pressure on Shepard's fingers on her arm, the bruises, the scratches. She remembers Shepard kissing those later, her lips chapped but so careful. "You seem different now," she tells her cautiously. Shepard lifts her eyes. For an instant they pulse green. It's hard for Liara to look away. "Goddess, you confuse me. Thank you for agreeing to Eden Prime. I… was expecting resistance."

"You know I've never been able to say no to you."

Liara laughs dryly. "How hard did you hit your head on Tuchanka?"

"Pretty hard."

Liara smiles, easing a thumb along the cut on Shepard's eyebrow, pulling a soft hiss from her. Does it hurt? Does it burn? She's made her make that sound before, albeit in a different context. She tells herself not to think about it. "I can't say I mind."

"Me neither." Shepard's fingers close carefully around Liara's wrist. Liara is irritated, despite that she was the first to initiate the contact. Shepard lets her go and Liara finds herself wishing she hadn't. "Goodnight, Dr. T'Soni."

"Goodnight, Jane."

It slips out of her too easily. Jane has always liked it when she spoke like this. More intimately. But instead Shepard flinches like she's been slapped. Curious.