It had been raining all week. Miranda crossed her legs and stared out at the floor length windows. Thick droplets created a melancholic track in the chilly waiting room. She'd been there for an hour; ignoring the haughty looks the receptionist flashed her way.

Fat cow. Stare all you like.

Miranda remained mostly still, tongue easing out to wet her lips, eyes flicking away from the window every now and then, to watch the television mounted above the receptionist's desk.

The news had taken the same habit as their weather, and only one story had caught the public's attention. Alliance ship missing in uncharted space. No distress signal. No warning. No trace. Despite knowing all the details – and then some – Miranda listened to the aging anchor man anyway. Droning on about technical failures that were mere speculation. Explaining dumbly that expert scientists had built a replica ship of the Normandy, and were attempting to see what had gone wrong. They suspected the oxygen tanks had malfunctioned, or simply seeped out into space. There was also the low rumour that Commander Shepard had gone rogue, having grown up on the streets before joining the alliance. Was their hero still a criminal at heart? Excuses, excuses.

"Sad, isn't it?" Miranda must have been staring at the television longer than she thought, as Miss Haughty had attempted small talk, indicating to the news report with one stumpy finger.

"Excuse me?"

"The missing soldiers. It's sad. Everyone could see it coming though, couldn't you?" She huffed, shrugging one shoulder. Miranda turned her gaze to the wart on her chin. "Venturing that deep into space. As if living on Mars wasn't far enough. You ask me we're getting too big for our boots."

"Good job I didn't ask you then, isn't it?" She flashed her a smile, her favourite one, showing off sugar spun teeth. It was the smile that turned men to putty in her hands, or most men anyway. The particular man she was waiting for was immune to her usual tricks.

The other woman hardly reacted, years of bitchy high-schools had clearly tamed her face. But nothing got past Miranda, and she noted the slight crinkle of her brow, the twitch of one eye, the way her hand clenched around her pen.

"Just my opinion." She said finally, before they fell into an icy silence once more. Good. She preferred it that way.

'Leading experts are now arguing that alliance ships simply do not have the technology needed to venture so deep into uncharted space. And opening new relays is now prohibited until further notice. Is this the end of the alliance exploring? Has humanity reached its peak? This is Richard Goodmans, signing out.'

Her lip curled, deciding the window was better entertainment after all, when the phone finally rang.

"The Illusive Man will see you now." Miss Haughty said, happy to be rid of her. About time.

"Thank you," she purred, rising to her feet and striding through into the adjoining office. Predictably, he'd spared no expense. Though you'd be hard pressed to tell at first glance; the only furniture in the large room being his office chair, which he lounged in languidly, smoking a cigarette and ignoring her.

But Miranda noticed everything, and her eyes caught the light flicker on one end of the room. Projected screens, stretching across the floor and up to the ceiling along one wall. The best technology could offer, ridiculously expensive, and probably covered with all sorts of secrets that sent her mouth drooling.

"Miss Lawson, sorry to keep you waiting." He said, lying. Smoke curled from his lips as he watched the rain. Had they been doing that together without even realising? Wasting time just because he wanted her to wait for him like an idiot.

"It was no trouble." She said, standing perfectly still despite the ache in her high heels.

"I've called you here today for an important task. One I can trust to no one but you," pride swelled in her chest, like he'd known it would. "I'm sure you've heard the news."

"Alliance crew lost in space. Including favoured Commander Shepard, in the best ship money can buy."

"Second to best. The Normandy SR-2 was completed yesterday."

"So it isn't just a copy?"

He chuckled, and she immediately regretted asking. They both knew the answer, and questions were seen as weakness to the man who knew everything.

"No. It is not a replica for their… tests. And the Alliance Crew did not disappear under the radar due to technical difficulties, as we both know."

"Aliens."

He paused, lip shrugging ever so slightly. Apparently keener on her dumb questions than her brave theories. "I believe so, yes. In any case, Commander Shepard is dead, her crew is dead; and the alliance are refusing to believe what they already know. That's where we come in." She remained silent, it was safer that way. "Miss Lawson, I've arranged for you to leave in the SR-2 tonight, along with the finest crew money can buy. You're to find Shepard remains, and that of her crew, in order for a real burial surface. Cerberus is always willing to help. The alliance believe we're doing them a favour."

"What are my real objectives, sir?"

His eyes flashed. Though it was hard to say whether it was due to excitement, or the metal retinas that had replaced their organic counterparts years ago.

"You're going to start a war."

Miranda knew everything, but this she hadn't expected, and it took all her willpower to keep her face still from tells. "Alright," she agreed, because they both knew she was going to do it. It wasn't like she had a choice. "But…" She could not help herself, and steeled her spine before asking. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" When she didn't answer straight away, he flicked his cigarette with a sigh, and the screens behind him suddenly came to life. Fuzzy images of reptilian like monsters, security tapes of Shepard with her crew, fighting, dying. A planet rotated slowly on one screen, despite all her lessons she couldn't recognise it, a fact which infuriated her. And then there was the little red beep, pinging near the corner, lines and lines of code scrolling next to it, making her heart flutter.

"A distress signal… my God. That's from the Normandy. You mean to say… they're still alive?"

"At least one of them is." He didn't seem phased, and the rain outside still had the majority of his attention. "We intercepted the signal before it could reach the Alliance. They've crashed landed on a jungle world three clicks out of relay 15. Extremely lucky… for them." He took a long drag, the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. "Imagine the news if they made it back home. They'd be heroes. They'd be able to warn humanity. The dangers of this new species, the dangers of travelling too far out. Then what would happen? Hm? The alliance would start a retreat, rallying their defensives and closing off all outskirt relays… wanting to avoid the inevitable."

Her throat had turned dry. Remaining a statue was no longer an easy task, and Miranda found herself inching closer to the screens, soaking in any information she could get before he turned them off with another flick and left her in the dark.

"So you see, your job is essential. How can we reach our full potential if we're beaten before we've even begun?" He smiled cruelly. "We can't, Miss Lawson. That is why you'll find the crew. You'll kill them yourself. And you'll bring them back for the alliance to mourn over. Soldiers are simple, and thus extremely predictable. Naturally they'll want revenge, in time. And then we'll have what we want."

"A war?"

"A victory. You don't have a problem with this, do you? Its' a few small lives for the good of the many. I'm taking Cerberus in a new direction, now that we're not alone. It is essential that we put humans first."

"I understand, sir. Consider it done." She turned to leave, tasting bile in her throat. He was right, he was always right. She had to get away from him.

"Ah, Miss Lawson, one more thing."

She froze in place, five steps from her exit, and turned to face him.

"I'd like to introduce you to your first mate. She's the best technology can afford… I'm sure she'll be of use to you."

Miranda Lawson noticed everything, but she hadn't noticed the idle A.I sat still in the corner, hidden behind his distracting screens. Only now it wasn't so idle, and it was striding closer. Long legs, longer than hers. Perfect frame, curve yielding to curve with the sweetness that inspired art.

She almost scoffed, was she really getting jealous of a robot?

"This," The Illusive Man said, "is EDI."

"Hello, I am the Normandy's Artificial intelligence." It was hard to say just how intelligent EDI was, but Miranda was sure she'd never seen anything like it before. "I will be happy to assist you in the coming events."

EDI smiled, joints whizzing into a perfect expression. The kind of smile that would turn men to putty. Miranda wanted to cut her open and look inside her; she wanted to figure out how she worked; she wanted to know if EDI really was there to help, or if she was simply The Illusive Man's way of spying on her.

What was she thinking? Of course EDI was his way of spying on her.

"A pleasure to meet you, EDI," Miranda lied. The robot wasn't the only one who'd been made to be perfect. "Let's get to work."

Shepard felt braver now that she knew everyone's names. She felt stronger now that she had some food in her belly. And more confident now that she could borrow Liara's clothes, and was given a bucket of water to wash with every morning.

Soon she'd be ready to fight.

Though she wasn't stupid. Shepard knew her life was balancing on an extremely thin piece of string, and with her life fell Garrus's and Liara's. Maybe it was her persistent need to always look after others, but they were the only ones she'd talk to, and as a result - for now - they were untouchable. No matter how many glares Saren shot their way.

And didn't they know it. The two had been turning to her for more advice every day. Looking to her for leadership even though she was powerless. Despite being used to it, the pressure was unnerving. They were scared. She was scared. Shepard didn't want to die.

"So what happens then?"

"Hm?" She looked up from her seat. It was funny how the turian's facial features had become so easy to read. Sometimes Garrus even looked like he was smiling, until grim depression took over once more. "Oh. They take a helicopter off the Island, err, that's like an old fashioned space ship. And then no one visits Jussaric Park until the next movie."

"Huh. And these dinosaurs look like me?"

"Sort of."

"And they're eating all the humans?"

"No. Some are just eating grass."

"Sounds like a stupid vid."

"Jurassic Park is a classic. It's older than you… I think. Do you turians age like Liara?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "I wish. No, we age like humans. No endless cycles for us."

"Thats too bad." She managed a small smile, but the teasing really wasn't in her. They were still stuck in her tiny excuse for a cell. Only now Shepard supposed she should be grateful, Garrus had stopped strapping her to the bed. Still, the small confines were beginning to grate on her. She only ever left to be questioned by Saren and Captain Fidus. And that wasn't exactly a task she looked forward to.

"Can I ask you a question, Shepard?"

"Shoot." She winced, holding a hand up. "Bad phrase. What do you want to ask?"

"Why do you sleep for so long?"

"Huh? I've been getting six hours sleep a night since I got on here. Why, how long do Turians sleep for?"

"No longer than four hours a night."

She watched him for a moment, glaring suspiciously. "Is that why you kept shaking me awake?!" Realisation dawned on her like heat, and, despite her dire situation, Shepard began to laugh. "You were making sure I was still alive? Christ, I was sure it was an interrogation technique. Not letting me sleep at all. I was ready to hit you."

He laughed with her, shaking his head. "You hit me a good few times anyway. Remember the air duct incident?"

Her failed escape attempt wasn't quite so amusing, but Shepard gave Garrus a teasing roll of her eyes anyway. If she hadn't come to trust the turian, they'd sure as hell found some odd grounds of mutual respect, and spending time with him was a holiday compared to Ira's shifts.

As if on cue, the doors slid open with a beep. Shepard had been hoping for Liara with her breakfast, instead she locked eyes with the turian in question.

Oh, fantastic.

"They're ready for you now. Get up."

"I can take her, Ira."

She ignored Garrus, not even glancing in his direction. Shepard pretended the obvious tension wasn't uncomfortable, and stood up as Ira shackled her hands together.

"It's a little tight," she said.

"Move." Ira pushed her forward and out of the room, ignoring her too, just like she'd expected. Say one thing for Ira, say she was predictable.

"When do I get to see my crew member?" She asked the same question every day, to just about anyone who would listen to her. Garrus and Liara had the decency to look guilty and embarrassed over the whole thing, but they still said no, just like the others.

"You don't."

"Who is it? James? Jack? It's not Doctor Chakwas is it?"

"Ask me one more question and you're talking to the Captain with a bloody nose."

She kept her mouth shut, knowing from experience that Ira meant it. Instead Shepard took the precious moments out of her cell to remember the route. Despite their size, turians seemed to favour narrow corridors that lead towards the bridge. Stairs were non-existent, and she tried to take note whenever it felt like they were slopping upwards. She was soon lost despite her concentrating, but slowly getting better, and the blank white walls no longer seemed so alien.

Ira led her to the Captains office near the front of the ship – she assumed – where the man himself was sat waiting. Saren had also made an appearance, and lurked behind the Captain's chair with those eerily bright eyes. Shepard was left standing, but truth be told she appreciated the small advantage in height, and squared her shoulders in grim anticipation.

"Shepard," Saren took charge, like usual. Garrus had tried to explain his spectre status to her, but it seemed a foolish principle to her. Too much power for one person to have. Too much responsibility like that could send you over the edge, in her humble opinion, and she was almost positive he was a fitting example. "Are you willing to cooperate this morning?"

"Absolutely. Just as soon as I've seen my crew member alive, and unharmed."

His mandibles set, she was getting quite use to that expression. It usually meant 'no.'

"You know that is impossible. And you are not in the best place to be making demands. Maybe if I pulled out that scraggily mane of yours –"

"Calm down, Saren. Threats get us nowhere, as you well know." Ah, the Captain was playing good cop today. Liara had guessed right yet again. She smiled at the poor act and tasted bile on the back of her tongue; threats had been getting them everywhere. "What if we invited Garrus to join us, Shepard? Would you answer his questions?"

Her lips puckered. So far, she'd been refusing to divulge any information unless it was to Garrus, under the pretence that this kept him safe from Saren's wraith. Why though? She hadn't figured out what was possessing her to help him. With Liara it made more sense, but not her captor. Did she owe him this? Quite frankly, he was the reason she was in this mess.

"Very well." Shepard said anyway. She'd contemplate her motives later. Best to just trust her gut in these sort of situations, and her gut wanted to help the alien that had nearly killed her twice.

Ira fetched Garrus without a word of complaint, and then Shepard stood complacent as the turian repeated every question his superiors demanded to know. 'How many vessels do your people own?' 'Why were humans opening closed relays?' 'Were they attempting to help the rachni?'

Shepard answered honestly for the most part. The trick to lying was mingling it in with the truth, and she only exaggerated the alliances forces, enjoying the turian's shock as she insisted an army would be waiting for them if they were to invade. In truth Earth had little in the way of war ships. Why would they need them? They'd been alone in the galaxy up until now. Though she assumed the Alliance was rectifying this problem as they spoke. Or at least she hoped.

Eventually, Garrus was sent back to his station, and she tried to ignore the fluttering fear in her stomach as he left.

Ira was on her as soon as the door were closed, and slammed Shepard's forehead onto the edge of the desk.

"No blood, Ira." Fidus murmured, and the two men watched as Ira treated her like a plaything. The beatings were getting worse day. Ira kicked and punched old bruises raw again, not giving anything a chance to heal. One swift kick to her stomach, and Shepard fell to her knees and resisted the urge to roll into a ball. Ira curled her hair around one talon and pulled, exposing her neck. A dozen old injuries screamed in protest at the abuse, but Shepard concentrated on her facial expression. Stubborn rage. Captain Anderson's firm tone rang dully in the back of her head. 'We will not falter.'

"Every day you do this. Why? I've answered all your questions." She said, one tooth wobbling against her bloody lip. Her voice sounded croakier than she intended, but clearing her throat only brought on more pain.

Ira paused with one fist ready and looked to her superiors for answers. Fidus was too busy watching, eyes glazed over. Saren, however, was happy to explain.

"Think of it as a formality, Shepard. We simply do not believe you're telling us the truth –"

"I've told you everything."

"And so Ira will continue your interrogations every day until we're satisfied with your answers."

"Not much of a plan." She said, despite the tightening hand on her hair. The flicker of irritation that crossed Saren's face was worth it, and Shepard grinned a bloody smile as Ira pressed her face to the ground.

Though the beatings weren't fun, Shepard was still loathed to be heading back towards her cell. Cabin fever was a suffocating feeling, and her feet dragged as they marched down the sloping corridors. The rest of the day would be spent in that damn cupboard. Doing sit ups on the floor, putting up with Liara's persistent questions, and listening as Garrus tried to explain how his species weren't all heartless killers.

Until Ira turned her left instead of right, and Shepard stiffened.

"Where are we going?"

"You're quick to notice." She huffed, almost sounding amused. "Memorized the route already?"

"More or less. Why are we heading further down?"

"Captain has a treat for you." It was all the explanation she seemed willing to divulge, and she left Shepard to wallow in silence. Had they deemed her useless already? It seemed the most likely conclusion. Ira had to be leading her away where she could kill her privately. Maybe a room with a drain.

Part of her wanted to give in and let it happen. But a larger part was stubborn enough to fight back. Genetic disadvantages and terrible odds put aside, Shepard believed just a small part of her could still get out of this, and made a mental note to punch with her left hand if it came to a fight. Ira had broken less fingers on her left hand.

They past a few crew members, who glared as the pair wandered past. She saw a mix of shock and hatred in their eyes. After all, she was the enemy, and not for the first time, Shepard was thankful for Garrus's kinder attitude. Everyone else seemed to be following Ira's lead.

"Here." They paused outside the medbay, and she unloaded her pistol. Funny place to kill her. Maybe their doctor wanted to experiment once she was dead. "Don't try anything funny. Just get to the end of the room and don't look at anyone. Got it?"

"Got it." She agreed, because it wasn't worth the fight.

"Hm." Ira grunted and tapped a button on her omni-tool, opening the door. Medical smell washed over them immediately, and despite their arrangement Shepard let her eyes wander to the only occupant of the room. A scrawny turian – if you could call them scrawny – slept in one bed. An excessive amount of bandages held his face together, and she realised with a swell of pride that it was her fault he was in such a bad state.

Encouraged by the gun prodding her back, she marched past with Ira looming close behind, then waited patiently as the other woman started typing in a code; the second door apparently much harder to get into than the first.

"You can thank me later." Ira said whilst she worked.

The idea was laughable. "For what?" She sneered, just as the doors slid open, and the source of the chemical smell became apparent.

Her eyes widened, breathe leaving her chest in one heartbroken sigh. Shepard felt hot shame heat up her face, guilty that she'd felt sorry for herself only moments ago; not now that she'd finally been shown some answers.

Kaiden was unconscious in his hospital bed, bloody bandages covered him better than his blanket, and what little skin left exposed was a dark purple. Strange medical tubes disappeared down his mouth, into his hands, clamped to his fingers; all connected to the various machines that were keeping him barely alive.

She stepped closer to his side, and Ira allowed it. Though she couldn't do much with her hands in chains, and Shepard was afraid to touch him in any case. He looked ready to break in any second, like sugar glass. Balancing precariously in limbo between life and death.

"Kaiden… what? Ho – why did you bring me here?" Her voice wobbled, and tears started to sting her eyes, staring down at his swollen face. Was he breathing? She couldn't even tell. What was most surprising was Ira's helpfulness to reunite her with her last remaining crew member. Out of everyone who could sneak Shepard to Kaiden's room, Ira had seemed the least likely.

"This is more of a pit stop really. The real treats down in the ring."

"Wha - ?" Her head slammed forward as Ira punched her without warning. No. Too hard. She must have used the butt of her gun. Wetness seeped underneath her collar, and she realised dimly that she'd gotten blood over Liara's favorite vest. Shepard groaned, but it would have been smarter to stay silent, as Ira only hit her again; and now her knees were giving out, and Kaiden's dying face helped her naught as Shepard's world finally turned black.

A strange place to kill her, she thought, before Ira hit her again.