The lights in the long, dark hallway flickered as Shepard passed under them, and she looked up warily, clutching her gun, making sure no more unwelcome surprises waited for them in the darkened corners of the room. The greenlit door at the end of the hall slid open easily, and Shepard took a step back, ready to fight, but was relieved to find that the room contained nothing but several desks lined up in rows on an unusual, levelled decline. The room seemed untouched, pristinely abandoned, with nothing left behind on the desks to indicate that anyone had been there before their arrival save for the few computers still sitting awake, their screens scrolling lazily with lines and blocks of basic laboratory text. Moving up to one of the computers still sitting awake, Shepard pulled up the projected keypad, tapped a button to access the computer's data logs and selecting the first log on the list to play.
"I spent the last week making small adjustments to increase processing efficiency," Henry Lawson's deep, accented voice came through the speakers, sounding chillingly self-satisfied. "There is no shortage of subjects – indeed, I'm told there's a long line outside the main gate. Our deception is an unfortunate necessity. Time is very short." Making a face, Shepard scrolled back to the data logs, selecting the next one down and letting it play out as well. "We've confirmed the results of Cerberus experiments involving the Husk creatures," Lawson continued, matter-of-factly. "A crude, but necessary first step in decoding how the Reapers communicate. The key is how the Reaper signal interacts with the nanites implanted within the subject's body. It's early yet, but we are making progress."
"This is sick," Liara commented, shaking her head as she came to stand behind Shepard at the computer, listening in on the data logs. "All of this research, all of it… sick."
"Doctor Nuri's legacy work with subject Paul Grayson provided a key element to our work here," Lawson continued on the next log down, causing Shepard to make a face, perturbed. She had only ever heard about Paul Grayson's fate from conversations with Anderson, but she still knew full well that any research that used the work done on Grayson as a jumping-off point had no chance of being anything good. "Using the addictive drug red sand to break down the will was inspired, but proved unreliable for general application. We've proven that adrenaline, and its cross-species equivalence, is most effective and efficient."
"It is difficult to imagine what this facility was like at full operation," Javik commented, bleakly, listening in on the logs as well. Shepard nodded in silent agreement, scrolling back to the list of logs, and selected the last one on the list, letting it play, completing the report.
"Our pursuit of efficiency has revealed an important fact," Lawson's voice on the log revealed, enthusiastically. "The Reapers' use of Dragons' Teeth to create Husks is… ingenious. The Reaper nanites attach themselves to the adrenaline released and quickly move through the body to speed conversion to the final Husk state."
"Shepard, look," Liara suddenly gasped, causing Shepard to look up, her eyes wide, to see what Liara was looking at. Further down the incline of desks, at the far end of the research room, stretched a wide window of bulletproof glass, much like the one in the control centre, only this one looked in on what seemed to be a containment chamber much smaller than the open space the Husks had occupied. Abandoning the computer with Lawson's logs, Shepard made her way inquisitively down the incline to what appeared to be the front of the room, moving up to the glass and peering curiously inside. Then, seeing nothing, she frowned, before lifting a hand and giving the glass a few soft, sharp raps with her finger. No sooner had she done so when she suddenly found herself face-to-face with the leering countenance of a Banshee, looming out at her from behind the sealed-in glass wall of the containment chamber. The Banshee wailed, its piercing shriek muted by the thick bulletproof glass, before reaching up a clawed hand to scratch at the partition holding it prisoner, but to little avail, as the glass held firm, keeping the Banshee locked inside, powerless to do anything but grimace out at its onlookers in fruitless, captive anger.
"Poor thing," Liara breathed, gripping her gun tightly to her chest, trying to keep her hands from shaking. "She was probably one of the lucky ones who managed to escape from Thessia… only to wind up here instead."
"Does not seem very lucky to me," Javik observed, his brow furrowing, solemn.
"You're right," Liara agreed, sombrely, her eyes still glued to the hauntingly aimless form of the Banshee, who had taken to swaying gently in place, her long arms swinging by her knees as she looked out at her observers with enormous, blank black eyes. "She probably wishes she had just died on the homeworld, rather than having to be reduced to…" She trailed off, her words catching firmly in her throat, and looked away from the horrible sight, taking a sharp intake of breath and reaching up a hand to rub at her eyes, trying to push back the tears that threatened to betray her. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, shaking her head as she looked up at Shepard again, her voice shaking. "Can we please just get out of here? I can't bear to see my people like this. Horrible… twisted, perverted like…"
"Like the Collectors," Shepard agreed, gravely.
"Yes," Liara answered, nodding in agreement. "Can we please just move on?"
"Sure," Shepard said, reaching out a hand to take hold of Liara's shoulder, turning her away from the observation window. "Absolutely. Come on, let's go." Moving away from the window, herself, Shepard headed for the next door into the facility, at the far end of the observation hall. Passing her omni-tool sensor over the lock, she prompted her party to follow her inside, and was less than surprised to find another room full of abandoned computers. Most of the computers had gone to sleep or reverted to projected screensavers showing just the word 'Sanctuary', but one console in the corner flickered noisily on and off, drawing their attention as it fought to retain some semblance of functionality. As Shepard approached the malfunctioning console, it gave a loud, angry buzzing noise, a barely discernible image filtering onto the screen for a few seconds before the screen flashed black and white again, reverting back to fuzzy bars and white noise once more.
"Figure out how Reaper indoctrination w—" Miranda's voice began to come through on the console, only to short out again as the console whined, the image on the screen flashing with static as it lost track of its memory again.
"The terminal is damaged," Shepard observed, stashing her gun in its maglock as she squatted down to better access the terminal mainframe. "Hold on." Javik and Liara moved up behind her as she worked, each holding their weapon at the ready, prepared to defend her from any oncoming enemies, but it seemed that whatever or whoever had set the Husks loose a few rooms before this had not seen fit to do the same further down the line.
"The Reapers wanted this place shut down," Javik commented, glancing over his shoulder to check on Shepard's progress before returning his attention to guarding the door. "Perhaps now we will find out why."
"It doesn't make sense," Shepard agreed, threading out a few loose wires and biting pensively on her lower lip as she tried to figure out which ones to cross to repair the broken console. "I thought Cerberus and the Reapers were getting along. What changed?" Her work was soon rewarded with a satisfying trill from the computer as the image on the screen began to clear, and she quickly grabbed hold of the edge of the console, pulling herself back to her feet and closing the door of the control box with her boot as she watched Miranda's message come to life.
"Heading to the tower to disable the communications scrambler," Miranda reported, dutifully. "I have to get word out. Some refugees are turned into Husks. Some are indoctrinated and shipped to the Illusive Man. Whoever's left is used in experiments. The data indicates that my father is trying to figure out how Reaper indoctrination works."
"Tricking refugees with food and shelter only to turn them into test subjects," Shepard spat, making a face, angry. "And for what?"
"Greed," Javik observed, solemnly. "And self-preservation. Those with more taking advantage of those with less. The strong killing the weak, all for the sake of personal gain. A pattern as old as time itself."
"Note that she mentioned shipping indoctrinated refugees to the Illusive Man," Liara added, pointedly, causing Shepard to look over at her, intrigued. "We can use that to find him if we have to."
"Good catch," Shepard commended, turning away from the computer console. "Come on. Miranda said she was headed to the tower. We should be getting close by now."
The elevator access tower had been closer than anticipated, as it had taken passing through only a few more eerily abandoned rooms for them to reach their destination. Making sure every member of her ground team was accounted for in the elevator, Shepard pressed the button for the topmost floor, frowning as the elevator gave a sharp buzz, and then a low-pitched whine, before finally seeming to power up into functionality again. "Tower access granted," the smooth female intercom voice chimed, and the elevator gave a shuddering jerk, causing the three passengers to reach for the sides as the elevator pulled itself out of electrical stasis, beginning to move upwards towards the top floor. Gripping her Marauder close to her chest, Shepard leaned back against the broad, cool siding of the elevator, allowing herself a quick moment to rest, but it did not take long for the elevator to come to a shuddering halt at the top floor, and she quickly stood from the side again, not wanting to show any sign of fatigue. Signalling silently for her companions to flank her, she stepped out of the elevator, making a quick sweep of the room for any hostile forces, but then, finding it empty, she moved forward again, Liara and Javik following closely behind her.
The next room they passed through was just as oddly empty of Cerberus forces as the last, but as she reached another door at the far end of the hall, Shepard turned, signalling for her companions to be silent, before passing her omni-tool sensor in front of the greenlit lock and causing the door to slide open with a smooth hiss. Crouching low at the edge of the doorway, Shepard brandished her gun, making her way as quietly into the room as she could manage, and she was surprised when the first person she saw upon entering was not an enemy agent, but Miranda Lawson, herself. Miranda sat on the floor of the room behind one of the desks, her legs folded awkwardly beneath her as if she had been forcibly knocked down, her usually pristine outfit riddled with small rips, smudges, and spots of blood. Her hair was dishevelled, her makeup smudged, and when she turned her head a bit further to look back towards Shepard, she could see a nasty cut that looked like a plasma bullet graze-mark marring the young woman's pale cheek.
"Shepard," Miranda pleaded, her voice raw, before turning her attention back towards the other side of the room, causing Shepard to look that way as well.
"Commander Shepard," Henry Lawson greeted her, tightening his grip on Oriana's throat as he aimed his weapon at the Commander. "Excellent timing."
"Put the gun down," Shepard insisted, darkly, raising her own weapon at the ready, moving around the desk where Miranda was hiding to get a better aim at Lawson.
Lawson shook his head, his grip on Oriana's throat tightening again as he did so, causing her to give a strangled yelp of pain. "No," he answered, firmly, the hand holding his gun shaking a bit as his knuckles began to turn white from gripping it so tightly. "Oriana tried to shoot me. Miranda's poisonous influence, no doubt."
"I'm sorry she missed," Shepard returned, coldly, her weapon still trained on Lawson's face. "Where's Kai Leng?"
"I don't know," Lawson answered, honestly, shaking his head in return. "Gone. He took most of my research and left us here to die." Oriana gave another whimpering gasp, her fingers clawing fruitlessly at her father's iron grip, and Shepard took a wary step back away from the two of them, hoping the man might ease up a bit if he felt a bit less threatened. Glancing back over her shoulder towards where Miranda still sat on the floor, dazed, she took a second step back, closer to the older Lawson sister.
"Miranda, can you hear me?" she asked, tentatively. Miranda grunted, taking in a sharp gasp of pained breath, before pushing herself to her knees, and from there pulling herself to her feet, using the edge of the desk for support. Seeing his eldest daughter back on her feet, Lawson took a guarded step backwards towards the large bulletproof glass observation window behind him, dragging Oriana with him as he went, ignoring her cries of protest.
"That's close enough!" Lawson insisted, shifting his gun from one woman to the other and back again, nervously. "Both of you! Kai Leng didn't finish the job, but I will."
Shepard shook her head, training her weapon on his face again. "This ends here," she told him, firmly.
"On the contrary," Lawson countered, taking another step back, seeming suddenly strangely smug. "Now that the Reapers are taken care of, we have a way out."
"Let her go," Shepard hissed, hardly noticing as Miranda began to move around her, walking awkwardly, limping, almost zombie-like, her gaze locked on Lawson as she did so. Shepard could see Lawson's eyes flicking from her to Miranda, trying to decide which one posed more of a threat, before Miranda finally came to a stop, leaning heavily on one of the desks, unable to walk any further.
"Shepard," Miranda pleaded again, her voice shuddering with pain as she turned to look back at her. "Don't let him take her."
"Shepard, please," Oriana echoed, before her voice was cut short again, choked off by Lawson's grip tightening around her throat, possessive.
Shepard gritted her teeth, her gaze flicking desperately around the room as she looked for something she could use to her advantage, but, finding nothing, she returned her attention to Lawson again, taking in a sharp breath as she shifted her stance, keeping her weapon trained on him. "I have no problem with you," she told him, coaxingly, trying her hardest to keep her voice even and diplomatic. "I just want Oriana and the research data."
"You want a lot," Lawson returned, frowning deeply, unrelenting.
"You get your life in return," Shepard persuaded, moving a few steps to the side, watching as his eyes followed her keenly across the room. "How much is that worth?"
Lawson faltered at her question, uncertain, his gaze darting nervously from side to side as he thought it over. Then, returning his attention to Shepard, he wet his dry lips, anxiously, before letting go of Oriana and shoving her roughly forward, away from himself. "All right," he answered, solemnly, lifting his gun to point it at Shepard once more. "Take her. Oriana, Miranda, and the rest of the research are yours. Whatever small amount Kai Leng left. But I want out alive, and I want my last completed personal experiment. Deal?"
"Your las—" Shepard began to ask, but she did not even have time to get her sentence out before Miranda suddenly let out a hateful yell from behind her, erupting in a pulsating blue light and thrusting out a hand towards Lawson, sending out a violent pulse of blue energy in his direction. The blast barrelled Lawson sharply off his feet and into the air, sending him punching through the bulletproof glass behind him, suspended in terrified animation for a split second before falling down into the bottomless facility chasm with one last, desperate bloodcurdling scream. The sound echoed off the hollow walls of the facility structure, before gradually fading away into eerie, reverberating silence. Miranda breathed heavily, fists clenched, nails digging into her palms, staring in numb, victorious shock at the spot where her father had been standing only moments earlier, but which now contained nothing but a massive broken window, the edges of the hole half-melted from biotic energy and streaked with fresh, warm blood.
"No deal," she breathed, her voice shaking with hatred, her eyes shining brightly with fresh, unshed tears. Then, moving forward quickly to where Oriana still knelt on the floor, trying to catch her strangled breath, Miranda pulled her sister up by her hands, brushing her dark hair out of her face, checking her eyes, her cheeks, her arms for any sign of harm their father might have done her. "Did he hurt you?" she asked, her voice gentle, even as she fussed fretfully over her sister's rumpled clothing. "Are you all right?" Then, pulling Oriana in towards her again, Miranda embraced her sister tightly, nestling her face in the young woman's shoulder in dishevelled disbelief. "It's okay, Ori," she told her, sniffling, barely containing a breath of manic, thankful laughter as she tried hard to hold back tears of relief. "You're safe now."
"I'm fine," Oriana answered, hugging Miranda back warmly, before pulling away to look up into her older sister's face again. "I just… I wanna get out of here."
"We will," Miranda assured her, offering her a short nod in return. "Just… give me a minute, okay?" Then, giving Oriana one last, reassuring smile, Miranda untangled her arms from around her sister's waist, before turning to cross the room towards Shepard again, causing Shepard to look up at her as she approached. "Commander Shepard," she addressed her, sounding grateful, almost relieved to see her. "Fancy meeting you here."
"We caught a break," Shepard returned, playfully, offering her a reassuring half-smile. "Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine," Miranda answered, dismissively, turning her gaze down towards the floor and crossing her arms across her chest. "Really. I don't know how you managed it, but I'm grateful you're here."
"Miranda, you know this whole thing was a huge risk," Shepard told her, scolding gently, causing Miranda to look up at her again, a bit surprised. "You should have told me what you were doing. I would have come to help you sooner."
"Well, you would know all about huge risks, I'm sure," Miranda returned, pointedly, sucking dourly on the inside of her lip. Then, letting out a long, heavy sigh, she looked away from Shepard again, shaking her head. "Besides, you have a war to win, Shepard," she told her. "Among… other things. Just as important. And far more important than some father-daughter squabble." Having said this, she fell silent, trailing off, her last words hanging, thick, in the air between them. "But, it doesn't matter now," she added quickly, glancing back towards Oriana before returning her attention to Shepard again. "It's over now. This was my fight, Shepard. And it's been a long time coming."
"You did it," Shepard agreed, still feeling a bit guarded, offering Miranda a reassuring nod in return. "It's over."
"Yes…" Miranda answered, thoughtfully, before dropping her gaze to the floor again, self-conscious. "I just wish my sister didn't have to see all this."
"About your father…" Shepard started to ask, but Miranda was quick to cut her off.
"I'm glad he's gone, Shepard," she told her, firmly, lifting her gaze to look over at her again. "I'm sorry if that sounds cold."
"No," Shepard assured her. "I understand."
Miranda nodded, reassured, before letting out a soft huff of breath, the corners of her plush lips curving upward in a small, relieved smile. "It's finally over," she said, her voice distant, as if she could still hardly believe it, herself. "For both of us. We can stop running."
"Yes, you can," Shepard agreed. Then, turning her attention towards Liara again, she watched as the asari began to hack into the large, glowing computer console at the far end of the research room, pulling up a list of files and starting to search them for pertinent information. "What's our status?" Shepard asked, taking a few steps closer, trying to get a better look at what Liara was doing. "Any intel we can use from this place?"
"The research data is gone, but we've got basic facility information," Liara returned, hardly seeming to notice as Javik moved up behind her at the console as well, watching her deft hands working with detached interest. "Shuttle arrivals and departures – Cerberus included. No direct links, but it's a start."
"Grab anything you can off the computer," Shepard instructed. "We'll take it in to be analysed."
"I can do better than that," Miranda suddenly spoke up again, causing everyone to look her way, surprised. Even Liara looked up from her hacking, the coding scrolling past her on the screen, unchecked, as she waited anxiously for Miranda to clarify.
"What do you mean?" Shepard asked, her brow furrowing, intrigued.
"I mean I've actually been there," Miranda informed her, matter-of-factly. "To the Illusive Man's base. I've only been there a handful of times, mostly back during the start of the Lazarus Project, but I remember where it's located well enough. Perfect memory, never forgets." Tapping the side of her temple, she offered Shepard a thin, chary smile, before moving over to where the ground team still stood huddled around the main laboratory computer. Collapsing the window of code Liara had been working on, she instead flipped back through the computer's functional software, searching the files for a starmap program. "I kept telling him that if he wanted to remain secret and remote, he should move his base around so rogue agents and deserters can't track him down and do him harm," she added, disdainfully, pulling up the program and selecting the Milky Way galaxy, scrolling with her finger until she found the system she was looking for. "But he's so bloody arrogant that he never listens to reason. His base of operations hasn't moved in over twenty years. He found that dying star during his travels, you know the one, and he liked it so damn much that he parked his base in front of it and hasn't moved since."
"The dying star," Shepard repeated, thoughtfully, watching as Miranda zeroed in on a cluster near the middle of the map, expanding it, before selecting a system from the cluster and zooming in on that as well. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I do kind of remember a dying star."
"He thinks having that bloody thing in the backdrop gives him an air of enigma or something," Miranda scoffed, shaking her head as she expanded the map of one of the star systems, causing the computer to beep as the pertinent information on it began to stack up in neat boxes along the side of the holoscreen. "I think it makes him look like an arsehole, personally, but I was being paid too much at the time to tell him so. Vanity has kept the Illusive Man rooted in place, and it's going to be what gives us the upper hand against him." Passing her omni-tool sensor across the keypad hub, Miranda gave another soft snort, satisfied, as the computer offered another beep, informing her that the information had been successfully transferred. "His first mistake was thinking that he's so invincible he doesn't have to take precautions against being found," she added, turning to face Shepard and holding up her omni-tool sensor, proudly. "And if we play our cards right, that's going to be his downfall."
"That's… fantastic, Miranda," Shepard told her, letting out a soft breath of relieved laughter, barely able to keep a giddy grin from her face as her gaze moved from Miranda, to the sensor, to the map, and then back to Miranda. "You are fantastic."
"Not quite," Miranda answered, sheepishly, dropping her hand back to her side again. "But, you know… nobody's perfect."
"So what's next for you two?" Shepard asked, glancing back towards Oriana, causing Miranda to do the same.
"I want to get her someplace safe," Miranda answered, fairly. "And hopefully get this scratch cleaned up."
"We can do that," Shepard returned, looking back at her again and offering a reassuring nod. "Once we're back on board the Normandy, Dr. Chakwas can get you all patched up. Then we can figure out where to drop Oriana off that she'll be the safest from the Reapers."
"Thanks, Shepard," Miranda told her, offering her a gentle, grateful smile. "I really appreciate that." Then, turning away from her towards Oriana again, Miranda held out her hand, beckoning for her sister to come with her. "Come on, Ori," she called, causing Oriana to look up at her, attentive. "We're going back to the Normandy. We've had enough of Father's hospitality."
Oriana nodded in agreement, starting to move across the room towards Miranda, but then, seeming to remember something important, she paused, stopping short in her tracks, her expression growing suddenly anxious as she stared at Miranda from across the room. "There is… one other thing, Miri," she told her, speaking haltingly, almost delicately, determinedly minding her words. "These experiments, the ones you saw, the ones with the refugees… well… that's not all Father was doing during his time here. He was also doing… other experiments. Personal experiments. Ones… not sanctioned by the Illusive Man."
"What in the world are you talking about?" Miranda insisted, frigidly, her eyes growing icy cold once more at the mention of her father and his experiments. "What's the son of a bitch done this time, Oriana? Not more experiments in cloning, I hope."
"Well, it's… it's easier to show you than tell you," Oriana answered, truthfully. Then, turning away from her sister again, she beckoned for the group to follow her, leading them through the winding rows of desks to a door hidden at the far room of the research laboratory. Reaching the door, she turned back around, indicating for the group to be quiet, before turning her attention to Miranda again and looking up into her face, pleadingly. "Please promise you won't be angry, Miri," she begged. "I didn't know how else to tell you about this. I only just found out about it myself barely a few days ago, and… I didn't want to risk trying to get in contact with you, not while father was still lurking around."
Miranda huffed disapprovingly, her pale eyes flashing as her dark brows furrowed into a hard, suspicious frown. "I'm not getting any less upset being kept in suspense about it," she told Oriana, bluntly. "Whatever it is, just get it over with. Our father was a sadistic bastard, so whatever this turns out to be, I likely won't be surprised by it."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Oriana answered, shaking her head, apprehensive. Then, passing her omni-tool sensor over the lock on the door, she moved inside the room ahead of the group, quickly making her way over to one of the corners, where a squat, rectangular container of some sort stood hidden behind an arrangement of chairs and a decorative potted plant. Whoever had done the room's arrangement had clearly been in some kind of hurry in doing so, as the clumping together of furniture around the stubby structure in the corner only served to draw more attention to whatever it was. Moving in closer to where Oriana stood, Shepard craned her neck, trying to get a better look at whatever the younger sister was doing, but she did not have to wait long to find out, as Oriana soon turned around from the corner, carrying what looked to be a bundle of blankets in her arms.
"Oh my god," Miranda breathed, rage flushing her cheeks bright pink as she moved over to where her sister stood, causing Shepard to step quickly out of the way so as not to get bowled over. "He didn't." Grabbing hold of the edge of the blanket, she pulled the swaddling sharply downward, and when she saw what was underneath, she gave a strangled cry of anger, turning away from the sight of it, barely even able to look at what Oriana held.
The baby in Oriana's arms could not have been more than a few months old, if that. It seemed Henry Lawson had wasted no time in getting straight back to his grisly work after losing Oriana to Miranda for a second time, and this infant was the perfect, mirror-image result. Soft swatches of raven-black hair framed the tiny clone's pale, heart-shaped face, with thick, dark lashes ringing her enormous eyes, and she blinked a few times, seeming surprised, as she stared out of her bundled cocoon at her new, adoring audience. As soon as her clear-blue gaze fell on Shepard, the baby's plump lips broke into a toothless smile, her cheeks lighting up bright pink as she gave a silvery laugh, squirming in joy and holding her arms out in Shepard's direction. "I think she likes you, Commander Shepard," Oriana commented, unable to keep from laughing, herself as she shifted the baby in her arms, trying to get a better hold on her. "Look at how she's smiling! You must have something special."
"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Miranda interjected, causing Oriana to look over at her across the room, surprised. "Babies have no capability for judgement of character. Not this early on in development, anyway. What she's probably reacting to is visual stimuli, as this is likely her first time seeing women." Looking down at the baby again, she pursed her lips, watching as the infant stared back at her, evenly, seeming captivated by the sound of her voice. "You, me, Shepard," she added. "Before this, the only people she likely ever saw were our father and the Illusive Man. This is all very new for her."
The baby burbled in response to this, drawing everyone's attention back to herself, before holding her chubby, rosy-dimpled arms out towards Shepard again, demanding, kicking her little legs against her swaddling as she did so. "I think she wants you to hold her, Shepard," Oriana told her, shifting the baby's weight against her arm. Taking a step towards Shepard, she began to hold the infant out towards her, but Shepard quickly took an even larger step back, holding up her hands to decline.
"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head, determinedly. "No, no. You… you don't want me holding your sister. I don't have any idea how to hold a baby. I'd probably just drop her. You're better off holding her, believe me." Pressing her hands awkwardly against the sides of her thighs, she offered Oriana a strained, uncomfortably toothy smile. "I'll just look," she told her, forcing a breath of a laugh. "You hold her. It's all good. I'm good."
"Oh come on," Oriana insisted, readjusting the baby in her grasp, causing the infant to give a little, distressed grunt of effort, her cheeks beginning to turn brighter pink with frustration as she reached out more determinedly in Shepard's direction. "Look at her. She really wants you to hold her. Please?"
"You need the practice, anyway," Miranda muttered, barely loud enough for Shepard to hear.
Shepard faltered, throwing Miranda an agitated look, before turning back towards Oriana and letting out a long, defeated sigh. "Okay," she said, holding out her hands awkwardly in the baby's direction. "I'll hold her." Oriana beamed at her acceptance, moving forward towards her, and carefully shifted the baby into her arms, making sure Shepard had a good grip on her before letting her go, and letting Shepard hold her all on her own. The baby was heavier than Shepard had expected, and warmer as well, making her start to sweat in response, though she was not sure if it was because of the baby's warmth or her own overactive nerves. The infant cooed at being held, smiling up into Shepard's face and curling and uncurling her tiny hands, and Shepard swallowed hard, uncomfortable, before offering the infant a strangled half-smile in return. "Hello," she said, awkwardly, her words halting and stiff. "Uh… baby." Then, looking up at Oriana again, she frowned, before tilting her head down towards the baby, inquisitive. "What's her name, anyway?" she asked.
"I think he called her Matilda," Oriana answered, frowning faintly, reaching up a thumb to tap the side of her chin, thoughtfully.
"Matilda?" Miranda repeated, seeming startled, looking up at the name, her eyes wide.
Oriana hesitated, taken aback, before nodding her head in agreement, now seeming a bit hesitant to talk about it. "I… at least, I think he did," she answered again, fairly. "He didn't talk about her very much, understandably… it wasn't a project the Illusive Man was backing, so he didn't want to get in trouble for dedicating too much of his time to it." Moving forward towards Shepard again, she took the infant back into her own arms again, hardly seeming to notice the exhale of relief Shepard gave as the child finally traded hands. "Still," she added, thoughtfully, pulling the baby's blanket up to cover her ears, keeping them from getting cold. "He would sometimes say things about needing to feed Matilda, or change Matilda… so I have to assume her name is Matilda."
"I'm surprised he didn't call her Matti," Miranda huffed, unimpressed.
"No, but I did," Oriana answered, adjusting the baby in her arms. "I thought it went well with our names, Miranda. Miri, Ori, Matti—"
"That child is not one of us," Miranda retorted, cutting her off short. Then, seeing Oriana's mortified expression at her outburst, she bit her lip, feeling suddenly guilty, before quickly adding, "She… she just doesn't deserve that, Oriana. She shouldn't have to know about our father, or anything else to do with us." Crossing her arms across her chest, she gave a short, agitated huff of breath, looking determinedly away from the baby towards the floor, but found that she could not keep her gaze from moving back to the little girl in her sister's arms. An odd, almost longing expression moved across her face as she watched the baby burble happily, her stern countenance slowly softening, until finally she gave another sigh, quieter this time, before turning her full attention back to the infant. "She's lucky she's so young," she said. "She can be adopted by a good family, go to a good home… and forget about us entirely."
"How can you say that, Miranda?" Oriana asked, sounding mortified as she cradled the baby closer to her chest. "She's our sister. It's our responsibility to take care of her. You didn't rest until you knew I was being well cared for—"
"By providing you with a loving family," Miranda countered, looking up at Oriana again, frank. "I didn't have the resources to take care of you on my own, so I made sure you were taken care of by someone else. I loved you, Ori, and I wanted you to be happy, even if your happiness didn't involve me. That's all I'm suggesting for her now. She deserves the same happiness you got, up until this whole fiasco with our father—"
"But why can't we be the ones to take care of her?" Oriana countered, bouncing the baby soothingly in her arms. "We have the resources to take care of her now. Why can't we be her caretakers?"
"It's not just about having resources, Oriana," Shepard cut in, taking a step forward, inserting herself in the conversation. "Taking care of a baby is a huge responsibility. Having the resources is just the first, smallest part of it." Catching sight of Miranda out of the corner of her eye, she faltered, realizing for the first time just how intently the older Lawson was staring at her, her expression tense, almost challenging, as if just waiting for Shepard to slip up and say something wrong. "Having a baby takes over your life," she went on, speaking slower, watching her words carefully. "Anything you might have wanted to do otherwise, any dreams or… professional, educational aspirations you might have wanted to pursue… you have to put it aside. Their wants, their needs, they come before your own. Always." Her frown deepening, she turned her attention towards the tiny Lawson clone, who had begun to suck on the edge of her blanket, her bright blue eyes locked on Shepard, fascinated. "Once you have a baby, you cease to exist as a person," she added, shaking her head. "All that exists anymore is your responsibility to take care of the baby. That's all there is."
"Oh for god's sake," Miranda interjected, exasperated, causing Shepard to turn to look at her, surprised. "It's a baby, Shepard, not a crippling illness. You're not supposed to think of them as a, a… responsibility, a liability. It doesn't matter what you wanted to do before. Once you decide to have a baby, they should automatically become your everything." Tossing a swath of dark hair agitatedly over her shoulder, she propped her hands on her hips, frowning over at Shepard, irritated. "Anything you wanted to do before, it means nothing compared to a child," she added. "They're not an inconvenience. They're your flesh and blood. They're a living, breathing part of you."
"That's— I never said you weren't supposed to care for the child," Shepard returned, affronted, her brow furrowing even deeper at the implication. "But it's not as simple as just… loving them unconditionally. Things change with a child. Everything changes. Not only do you have to look out for yourself, but now you've got somebody else who's depending on you, too." Tucking her hands under her arms, she shrugged, trying hard to keep from making a telling face. "Some people just can't do that, Miranda," she told her, honestly. "They can't handle so much responsibility, especially when that responsibility is so fragile."
"But when you have a child, you don't mind having so much responsibility," Miranda countered, resolutely. "When you have a baby, you're supposed to love them. Unconditionally. That's what babies are, Shepard, unconditional love. There's no greater joy than bringing a new life into the world."
"But that's not true for everyone," Shepard argued, her frown deepening again. "Some people prefer to choose when to become a parent, rather than having it dropped on them unexpectedly. Others aren't cut out to be parents at all." Shaking her head, she let out a sharp, exasperated sigh, dropping her hands to her hips, mirroring Miranda's body language. "Not everyone views parenthood the same way you do, Miranda," she told her, pragmatically. "Some people are in love with the idea, but some people are terrified by it."
"There's nothing frightening about having a child," Miranda scoffed, incredulous, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest.
At this, Shepard faltered, taken aback, unsure whether to be amused or mortified by the conversational turn. "Are—are you kidding, Miranda?" she asked, her tone one of utter disbelief. "Are you joking? You think there's nothing scary about having a child? How about… what about the idea of having to take care of something so much more fragile and small than yourself, when you can barely take care of yourself as it is? What about the thought of having someone dependant on you, someone you have to look at every day, to see the look of disappointment, of betrayal in their eyes every time I do something wrong, every time I fuck something up, any little thing at all?" Her voice began to shake as she spoke, and she hardly even noticed the unintentional, telling slip of narrative pronouns as she turned to face Miranda more forcibly, her hands falling from her hips to curl distractedly at her sides. "With war it's just statistics," she told her, frankly, trying hard to keep her voice from breaking as she continued on. "It's easy to distance myself from statistics. But I can't distance myself from something that's a part of me. I can't distance myself from that little face, those little eyes staring up at me, that little voice saying 'Mommy, why didn't you take care of me right?' And you know what, Miranda? You know what I'm going to have to do? I'm going to have to tell that little voice, those disappointed little eyes, 'it's because I don't fucking know how'!"
Miranda had stopped looking at her by now, unable to make eye contact, her hands cupped over her elbows as she stared intently at the floor, her lips pursed, brow furrowed as she willed herself not to react. Taking a deep, ragged breath, Shepard shook her head, feeling a single, hot tear begin to skate down her face, followed closely by another, but she did not even bother to stop it, too angry and hurt to care. "Maybe I was never meant to be a mother, Miranda," she told her, angrily, as another pair of warm tears rolled down her cheeks. "Maybe it's just me. But that doesn't change the fact that it was an accident, and I am terrified. And all I ever wanted to do was try to make it better, try to fix things before I made them so much worse that I'd never be able to forgive myself."
"So what, you're gonna kill it now?" Miranda insisted, looking up at her again, livid. "Now that it has a heartbeat, now that it has fingers and toes? You might as well just throw my sister in the garbage compacter while you're at it, why don't you, Shepard? That's about the route you're going anyway."
"You can't compare your sister to my baby," Shepard shot back, her voice breaking as she pointed an accusatory finger towards Oriana and Matilda. "Your sister is perfect and healthy, and my baby is…!" She stopped, trailing off, hearing the steady throbbing sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her face flushed red with anger as she gritted her teeth, unable to finish her statement. Dropping her arm again, she buried her face in her hands, taking a few long, settling, shaking breaths as she tried to regain her composure. Moving up towards her, Liara extended a hand, placing it gently on Shepard's shoulder, but Shepard did not even react, standing frozen in place, like a statue. Then, finally, after a long moment of silence, she lifted her head again, taking in a deep breath, before reaching up to wipe the tears from her face with the back of her armoured hand. "Let's make sure everyone knows about this place," she said, sniffling, turning away from the gathered group to head back into the adjoining laboratory. Making her way to the main computer console, she pulled up Liara's hacking window, completing the override code and submitting it to the system for review.
"Communications scrambler disabled," the smooth female voice reported. Then, having accepted the override, the comm system began to instead blare Miranda's message warning refugees away from Sanctuary over the radio frequency, repeating over and over again to be picked up by any incoming vessels. Having heard the message before, Shepard turned away from the radio, instead lifting a hand to her in-ear comm and activating the connection.
"Cortez, we need a pickup at the tower," she told the pilot.
"Roger that," Cortez quickly confirmed.
Having completed her pickup call, Shepard paused, staring at the floor, before turning and moving towards the elevator again, pointedly not making eye contact with anyone else in the laboratory. "I've had enough of this place," she muttered, and pushed the elevator button going down.
Shepard stared morosely at her reflection in the mirror of her cabin bathroom, running a thoughtful hand across the curve of her stomach and watching it moving in and out under her thin undershirt as she breathed. Taking a deep breath in, she held it, trying to see what she would look like a little further along, to see if it might be possible to keep up the charade at five months, or six, but then, unable to hold her breath any longer, she let it out in a heavy, frustrated sigh. "Damn it," she swore, quietly, cupping her hands under the swelling girth. As much as she hated to admit it, Javik was right – there was no way she would be able to hide her condition from the rest of her crew for much longer. Even now, at only four months, it had already gotten to a point where she could barely stand to take mess with her crew, not wanting anyone to see her eating and in doing so notice that she had gained weight. Turning to the front again, she frowned, tsk'ing quietly, scolding herself as she ran her fingers over the hollowed-out lines of her collar-bone, reminding herself that while she might not be comfortable eating in front of her crew, she still needed to remember to eat.
Grabbing up her jacket from where she had left it, Shepard pulled it on over her undershirt, zipping it up securely to the top, trying to ignore how much more snugly it seemed to fit than the last time she had worn it. Shaking her head, she huffed, reminding herself that it was likely just her imagination, and she had not actually gotten significantly bigger since earlier that morning. The light at the lower-left edge of her private terminal flashed, letting her know she had gotten a new incoming message, but she ignored it, turning instead towards the door of her cabin and heading for the central elevator, intent on checking up on the Normandy's newest passengers. Miranda and Oriana had taken up boarding in the observation room, which Ashley had been only too happy to surrender over to them, preferring the familiar intimacy of the communal bedding unit. And so, taking the elevator to the main crew floor, Shepard was quick to make her way down the hall towards the observation deck, pausing a moment to allow the weight sensitive door to acknowledge her presence before it slid open with a smooth hiss, allowing her inside.
Both elder Lawson sisters looked up at her immediately as she entered, Oriana offering her a welcoming smile before returning her attention to the work she had been doing before Shepard had entered. "Good to see you're feeling better, Commander," she told her, dragging her finger across what looked to be an elongated horizontal datapad. The projected screen of the pad she used was white, rather than the usual blue or yellow, and Shepard could see through the transparent display that the monitor was covered in thin, dark-brown lines, onto which Oriana was dragging a series of black and gold dots. As she tapped her fingers across the dots, different, thinner lines began to appear between them, connecting them in a calculated pattern, before the screen scrolled to one side, revealing more blank brown lines, which she was quick to set to work on as well. "We were worried about you for a bit, there," Oriana added, looking up from her work again as she flicked her wrist towards the screen, causing it to zoom out to a series of bars, the details now too fine for Shepard to make out. "Or, I was, at least. Miri told me she didn't have to worry because you always bounce back just fine. It's good to see she was right about you."
"Of course I was," Miranda returned, not bothering to look up from her own datapad as she scrolled down a long line of fine white text. "I told you, Ori. I know Shepard. You can't knock her down as easily as the rest of us." Then, looking up from her datapad again, she tilted her head, indicating the seat across from hers, beckoning for Shepard to come closer and sit. Shepard was only too happy to comply, crossing the room and lowering herself down into the padded cushions, stretching her legs out in front of her as she regarded Miranda with interest, watching her balance her baby sister in one arm while perusing her datapad effortlessly with the other. "This room is perfect, Shepard," Miranda told her, hardly seeming to realize she was being watched as she returned her attention to the datapad in her lap. "Just enough room for me and Ori. And that novelty chair makes a great little sleeping nest for Matti. We figured out how to block it in so she wouldn't roll out, and now it's just the right size."
"Matti?" Shepard asked, raising an eyebrow, offering Miranda a knowing half-smile.
Miranda paused, faltering, looking up at Shepard from her work, seeming a bit lost. Then, realizing what she was implying, she looked down at the datapad again, a faint pink blush rising to her pale cheeks as she dragged her thumb across the surface of the screen, flipping over to the next data file. "Yes, well," she said, quieter. "Ori keeps calling her that. I suppose it's grown on me a bit as well." Shepard smiled, nodding along with her explanation, satisfied, before allowing a pause to fall between them, the quiet broken only by the sound of Oriana coughing gently from the far end of the room. After a moment, Miranda looked up again, taking a sharp breath and raising her pristine brows. "She's composing music," she explained, causing Shepard to look up again, confused. "Oriana. That's what she's doing over there. I saw you watching her when you came in. She's writing a piece for violin and cello. I told her I had an interest in learning, so she's writing a piece for us to play together."
"You play the cello?" Shepard asked, intrigued.
"Not yet, no," Miranda corrected her. "But when the war is over, I intend to learn. I've always wanted to play an instrument. A cello seems as good as any."
"Yeah, the cello is great," Shepard agreed. "Bach's first suite is… lovely, a lovely piece."
"You know about cello music?" Miranda asked, looking up at Shepard again, surprised.
"I…" Shepard paused, making a face, crossing one ankle over the other. "I know Bach's first suite," she admitted, awkwardly. "But that's about it. But I like that piece."
"Right," Miranda answered, looking down at her datapad again, swiping her finger to one side again, scrolling to the next file over. "It's a lovely piece, for sure."
"And what are you reading up on?" Shepard asked, quickly changing the subject, lifting her chin to try to get a better look at what was written on Miranda's datapad. Miranda gave a soft snort, tapping a square at the top of the file before lifting the frame for Shepard to see the projected data screen.
"I'm reading your files on Kai Leng," she told her, watching as a pixelated picture of Leng's masked face filled the screen, a small rectangular box of text lighting up along the lower corner with a sparse spattering of informative text. "I was hoping to glean any information I didn't already have on the Illusive Man's pet, but so far I haven't found anything of any real or useful interest… nothing I don't already know, anyway." Setting the pad back in her lap again, she readjusted her baby sister against her opposite thigh, giving her a light, entertaining jostle as she tapped back to the screen she had been on before, returning to her research. "He's crafty and he's mean," she said. "That's really all there is to know about him. That, and he won't hesitate to kill you, so there's no use in trying to reason with him." Giving another soft scoff, she shook her head, flipping to the next page of the data report. "Almost makes you wish the Illusive Man hadn't scrapped that backup Shepard clone," she muttered, chewing thoughtfully on her lip. "At least she might have been reasoned with. Better than this take no prisoners, macho-man nonsense. Pathetic."
"Miranda, can I ask you a question?" Shepard asked, stuffing her hands in her pockets and leaning back against the cushions of her seat. Miranda glanced up at her, fleetingly, seeming a bit puzzled by the inquiry, before returning her gaze to her work again, giving another sideways swipe with her finger.
"I don't see why not," she answered, fairly. "You're the Commander, after all."
"About… your sister," Shepard said, getting right to the point. "Matilda. For some reason… hearing that name made you pretty upset back on Sanctuary." She paused, expectant, watching Miranda for some sort of reaction, but when she got nothing in response, she shook her head, tucking her legs in under her in a more comfortable crossed position. "Is that something personal you'd rather not discuss?" she asked, massaging her ankles distractedly. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it. I just thought, maybe—"
"Matilda was our mother's name," Miranda spoke over her, cutting her off, her attention still fixed on the datapad in her lap, determinedly not making eye contact. "Henry Lawson's wife. Apparently he loved her very much, or so I'm told." Scoffing, she turned her gaze down towards the floor, resting her datapad absentmindedly against her knee. "Hard to imagine," she admitted, shaking her head. "But the way I understand it, Matilda wanted to have a daughter, but she soon got very sick, too sick to have children. Henry promised he'd give her the daughter she wanted, so he cloned her and made a daughter for her that way, but something went wrong, and the child soon withered and died…" She faltered again, her voice trailing off, her gaze staying fixed pensively on the floor as she thought. "That was Ramona," she finally said, her pristine brow furrowing, her expression hard to read. "She was… the first of us, I suppose. The first Lawson clone. Our mother died not long after, having never gotten to have the daughter she dreamt about. Afterward, our father became… obsessed, with creating the perfect daughter, the perfect clone, one that would never get sick or die young."
Sucking meditatively on her lower lip, Miranda deliberated a quiet moment, tapping the datapad against her knee as the fingers of her other hand played distractedly with the folds of Matilda's blanket-wrap. "He cloned our mother over and over again," she went on, her frown deepening as she thought about it. "But every time something came up in the genetic coding that gave even the faintest implication that the cloned child might possibly get sick or have some infirmity, he would terminate and start all over again. His act of love quickly turned into an act of obsession, and before long it stopped being about his wife and became about him, about his legacy. I thought I'd put an end to his hateful experiments when I took Ori away from him…" Trailing off again, she turned her attention down towards the baby in her lap, staring at her for a moment, considering. "But I guess he had one final 'fuck you' in store for us," she finally added, solemnly. "Naming her Matilda… it's like spitting in our faces. And if I could, I would kill him all over again for it."
"I guess I just don't understand," Shepard admitted, frowning faintly. "Wouldn't naming her after your mother be a good thing? Kind of like… remembering what his work really meant? What he was really doing all this for?"
"Clearly you don't know my father," Miranda huffed, incredulous. "Sentimentality is lost on him. This wasn't an act of tribute, Shepard, it was an act of spite. It was his way of saying that none of the rest of us were good enough or enough like our mother to matter." Taking a deep, weary breath, she looked down at Matilda again, only to find the baby staring up at her, watching her attentively. "Ramona was flawed, but she was lucky," Miranda said, setting her datapad aside to reach down and gently brush Matilda's soft bangs to one side of her forehead. "Her creation was an act of love. Ours was just an act of blind ambition."
"I'm sorry, Miranda," Shepard said, quietly. "I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't," Miranda agreed, looking up at her and shrugging dismissively. "I never told you. I never told Ori, either, for that matter. I wanted her to know as little as possible about our son of a bitch father. I hoped not knowing about him might help her lead a relatively normal life." Then, letting out a soft sigh, she shifted Matilda into the middle of her lap, holding her securely under the arms and beginning to bounce her gently on her knees. "Listen, Shepard," she said, quietly. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. Back at Sanctuary. What I said, the way I said it… I didn't mean to attack you like that. I was just… surprised, and upset, and… jealous, I suppose, is the truth of it. Jealous of my father, jealous of you…" Going quiet again, she wavered, dropping her gaze to the floor again as she continued to bounce the baby on her knees. "It's… it's just not fair, you know?" she finally added, her breath catching in her throat in a soft, choked knot. "I try so hard, and I go to all this trouble, and I can't for the life of me get pregnant. But you… you do it without even meaning to. Here you are, thinking about getting rid of your baby, while I…"
Faltering again, her jaw trembled, open, wordless, before she finally closed her mouth, going silent, and looked away again, letting out a short, sharp exhale. "Nothing," she finished, quieter. "It's nothing. Forget I said anything." Pulling Matilda in closer to her, she looked down at the baby, considering her, sadly. In return, Matilda looked up towards her older sister, her pink lips opening inquisitively as she waited for Miranda to start talking again. A long moment of silence passed between them, until, finally, Miranda took a deep breath in, brushing a lock of hair back from her face as she turned her attention up towards Shepard again. "It's none of my business whether you keep your baby or not, Shepard," she concluded, shaking her head, solemnly. "I need to respect that. I questioned your judgment once before, when we were both working for Cerberus, and I was wrong. I won't question your judgment again."
"Miranda…" Shepard sighed, tiredly, watching as Miranda gingerly inspected baby Matilda's tiny, rosy fingers. From across the room, she could see Oriana doing her best to appear detached from the conversation, but she could not help noticing that the younger Lawson had turned her body towards them so as to better hear what was being said. "I'm having the baby, Miranda," she told her, just loud enough for both sisters to hear. Miranda paused, uncertain if she had heard Shepard correctly, before looking up at her again, her brow furrowing, inquisitive. In return, Shepard offered an awkward, assuring half-smile, shrugging her thin shoulders. "It's kind of a new development, but… I'm having it," she repeated, getting used to the sound of the words. "I don't know if I'll be keeping it once I do, but… Liara says there's a good chance someone might be willing to adopt it if it turns out I'm not able to take care of it. You know… afterward."
"Oh, I'm sure," Miranda agreed, quickly, before catching herself and turning her gaze down to her lap again, hiding the faint pink blush on her cheeks, embarrassed by her own enthusiasm. "I mean," she amended herself, just as quickly. "I'm sure there is, Shepard. A market for that. There's bound to be plenty of people looking to adopt children after the war is over."
"That's what I figured, too," Shepard nodded. She paused, watching Miranda for a moment, thoughtful, before pushing herself onto her feet again and crossing the space between them. Reaching down, she tickled one of baby Matilda's pudgy hands, cooing softly, and in return, Matilda squealed, grabbing hold of Shepard's finger and giving it an enthused shake, before bringing it up to her mouth to suck on it. Letting out a soft, surprised laugh, Shepard gently pulled her finger away from the baby's mouth, wiping it off on the leg of her pants before turning her attention to Miranda once more. "Cute baby," she told her, causing Miranda to smile faintly as she dabbed at the side of the baby's mouth with the edge of her blanket, cleaning away a bit of drool. Then, tucking her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, Shepard began to turn away, heading towards the door of the room.
"Shepard," Miranda suddenly called, causing Shepard to turn to face her again, attentive. Miranda paused, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip as she tried to think how to word her question. "Do you have any idea what sort of baby you'll be having?" she finally asked, her brow furrowing a bit. "That is, I mean… have you had a chance to check the gender?"
Shepard paused, a bit taken aback by the clarification, before quickly shaking her head. "Not yet," she answered, truthfully. "Wasn't really sure I'd be keeping it, so it didn't seem relevant to find out the gender. I've been calling it a girl until now, but… that's just a wild guess on my part."
"That makes sense," Miranda conceded, giving a nod in return. "And— Shepard?" Stopping halfway to the door again, Shepard turned to face Miranda once more, raising her brows, attentive. Twisting a lock of hair around her finger, Miranda paused, considering her words, before finally letting her hand drop to her lap again and taking a deep, sincere breath. "Thank you," she told Shepard, softly. "For doing this. I know you aren't doing it for me, but… it still means a lot. So, thank you."
Shepard hesitated, blinking a few times, unsure how to respond, before finally offering Miranda a gentle, sincere smile in return. "You're welcome, Miranda," she told her, honestly. Then, turning towards the door again, she passed through the door of the observation deck, heading out into the Normandy.
The gunnery door slid open with ease as Shepard approached, allowing her to pass inside without drawing Garrus' attention away from his work. He frowned at the calibration screen, deep in concentration, hardly seeming to notice as she came to stand beside him at the desk, watching as he worked. His hands moved deftly across the holo-keypad as his gaze stayed fixed on the text, watching as it scrolled slowly upward across the screen, picking out the little discrepancies and quickly moving in to fix them. As he completed a line of corrected code, Shepard could hear a gun at the far end of the battery give a soft beep, three small lights at the edge of the screen lighting up as Garrus lifted his head to inspect his work. When he turned his head, he jumped, surprised, noticing Shepard standing there for the first time, but it did not take long for him to regain his easy composure. "Shepard," he greeted her, pleasantly surprised, though still seeming a bit confused. "Sorry about that. Didn't expect to see you there." Then, turning his attention back to his work, he pressed the upward button on the keypad, scrolling the screen back to where it had been before he had been interrupted.
"Sorry," Shepard apologized, crossing her arms to cup her elbows in each opposite palm, thoughtfully. "Didn't mean to startle you. Just wanted to come down to see you, was all."
"Fair enough," Garrus answered, nodding in agreement. "Always happy to have visitors, especially when they're the 'you' variety. Though, truth be told, I've been kind of getting the feeling you've been avoiding me lately." Having said this, he turned his head, regarding her with one bright, telling avian eye, before returning his attention to his work once more. "Probably just my imagination," he admitted, giving a soft snort of breath. "Still, a guy can't help but wonder sometimes."
"I…" Shepard started to say, but closed her mouth, thinking it over. Telling him that she had not been purposefully avoiding him lately would be a lie, and she had never been much good at lying, especially to people who knew her well. "I've just… been kind of busy, you know," she finally told him, truthfully, giving a half-hearted shrug of her shoulders. "Reapers and all. Not a lot of time for fraternizing."
"Right, right," Garrus agreed, nodding along, good-naturedly. "Those pesky Reapers. And Cerberus, too."
"Oh, yeah, Cerberus is the worst," Shepard said, giving a soft, forced breath of a laugh.
"Right. So," Garrus told her, getting right to the point, turning to face her and leaning interestedly against his calibration console. "Speaking of Cerberus… Sanctuary. I heard you guys infiltrated some kind of Cerberus operation while you were there. I bet that was pretty gruesome."
"'Gruesome' is a good word for it," Shepard agreed, shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie as she let out a low, tired sigh. "I'd honestly rather not think about it. Some of the stuff they were doing there… you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy."
"Well, unless your enemy is Cerberus," Garrus countered. "Then, maybe… taste of their own medicine and all that." Shepard did not respond to this, her gaze dropping to the floor of the gunnery, the toe of her boot digging awkwardly into the floor as the conversation ground to an uncomfortable, quiet halt. Garrus frowned, realizing he had said something wrong, and glanced away towards the door, trying to think of how to fix the situation, before looking back at Shepard again and clearing his throat. "It's great that Miranda is back," he commented, changing the subject and getting her attention again. "That baby with her, though – is that hers?"
"Her sister," Shepard corrected, shaking her head, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"Oh, it's her sister's baby?" Garrus asked, intrigued. "That makes more sense."
"No, the baby is her sister," Shepard told him, correcting him again. "The baby is the sister of Miranda and her sister. They're—they're all sisters."
"Oh," Garrus said, blankly. "That's…" Reaching up a hand, he scratched absentmindedly at his scaly neck, thinking it over, before letting out a soft, confused breath of laughter and letting his hand drop back to his work. "About as complicated as I'd expect from Miranda," he admitted.
Shepard nodded, offering him a vague, half-attentive smile, before it began to slowly fade away again, her attention drifting once more towards the floor of the gunnery. With the topic now exhausted, another uncomfortable pause fell on the room, the soft sound of beeping machinery in the background filling the air between them, seeming to stretch on endlessly. "Garrus," Shepard finally spoke up again, breaking the silence as she looked up at him, intent. "I have… something to tell you. Something really important. But I can't tell you what it is just yet, so… you're just going to have to trust me." Worrying nervously at her lower lip, she took a deep breath in, frowning as she stared up into his earnest face, meeting his eyes, his bright blue gaze attentive as he stared back at her, concernedly, hanging onto her every word. "I'll tell you as soon as we get back from the Illusive Man's base," she added, more determinedly now. "I just… I have to take care of Cerberus. This is really important to me. It's personal. But once that's done, I promise I'll tell you."
Another pause settled between them, with Garrus staring back at her, silent and patient, as if waiting for more. Then, realizing more was not going to come, he took a deep, thoughtful breath, tilting his head as he leaned his palm against the edge of his calibration console. "I feel like you've been trying to tell me about… whatever this is, for a long time," he told her, honestly, only half-joking. "But, I guess… that's fair enough. I trust your judgement, Shepard, and I know how important this mission is to you. So whatever it is you've been trying to tell me… I'm sure it can wait until after this mission." He paused, considering this for a moment, before his expression shifted again, this time into a reassuring half-smile. "I just hope you don't forget about it in the meantime," he added, playfully. "I'd hate to be kept waiting another couple months while you try to remember again."
Shepard faltered, taken aback, before giving a soft, forced breath of a laugh in return. "Yeah," she agreed, quietly, looking down at the floor and tucking an uncomfortable lock of hair behind her ear. "That would be pretty bad, wouldn't it?"